The reserved embrace of Lindfield Rocks

We got off to a mixed start. I had never considered myself much of a climber, with my experience mostly consisting of pulling myself up the walls at Climbfit, plus with the occasional outdoors trip with far more able and confident friends.  On my first visit to Lindfield Rocks, I didn’t quite get it. I remember the walls feeling too high, and the holds just a little too small for my hands and feet (Where am I meant go? Surely not up!).

Over the years I went back to Lindfield a few times, always with friends and never that excited. I remember a few fun climbs, ticking off taller classics like The Arete and The Overhang on top rope, and tiptoeing across a few of the easier traverse sections. Still, some of the classic boulder problems on the Kenny Boulder felt confoundingly hard, and ropeless efforts on the taller walls were gripping.

About 10 years ago I moved to Japan for work and play. I did very little climbing, but a lot of general mountain adventure – skiing, bushwalking and scrambling. After moving back to Australia and starting a family I fell back into a little bit of climbing – mostly indoors, some great outdoors trips, but a sense that perhaps there was a bit more to it than I was figuring out.

If anything, I looked more forward to climbing for the company. Afternoons at Sydney crags with Mr Paine (watching the ease and grace he brought to climbing) felt like watching someone bound up a hill ahead of me whilst I sweated it out with sore calves and sweat in my eyes. I secretly looked more forward to the finale of a delicious Japanese whisky and a chat about adventure. Likewise for days in the mountains with Rahn, pushing myself to try steep sport climbs with howling forearms, shaking with nerves trying to make a desperate clip, and replacing the whisky with a sourdough loaf and coriander dip from the Katoomba co-op.

I remember a specific conversation 3 years ago with the wonderful Mr Paine over a glass of Hakushu. I expressed my admiration (envy?) for how he climbed and said that I was thinking of putting some time into getting to a place where I could actually call myself a climber. That feels a strange aim now, but I think what I meant was that I wanted to feel flow on rock, and that instead of fear being the strong associated emotion, it would be focus and enjoyment.

As we had moved to Lindfield to live I tentatively started stepping back into the world of Lindfield Rocks. I borrowed a mat, and started trundling down in my lunch break or after work. Past the tennis court and down the stairs, throw the pad down under something easy and move by move work towards familiarity.

Over time comfort started to develop. By picking off one new climb at a time I expanded the list of climbs that I felt relaxed on, started to try some thinner holds and more interesting moves. It felt better to go there alone, and challenges with fear and comfort seemed to float up when with friends, or on days when lots of other climbers were down there. I bought the Sydney Bouldering guide and started to add a texta dot next to completed climbs with some kind of rough aim to maybe do all the climbs in the guidebook.  

As my kids have grown, I’ve started to share Lindfield Rocks with them. Easy sessions, sometimes more about the nearby playground, spotting shapes in the rock (budgies, eagles, Minecraft characters!), stick forts or tasty snacks on a bouldering pad fashioned into a sofa. Watching the kids climb for pure enjoyment and without any concern for grades shifted my own focus. Its hard to watch people you love and admire climb a certain playful way and to not have your own perceptions shift.

It's not like I have become a particularly amazing climber, but over time I’ve built up to levels I never expected. Climbs that felt improbable at best can now form part of a nice relaxing circuit in a stolen hour during a day’s work. Somehow classics like the Corals traverse, Kim’s Arete and The Tourist Route have started to feel meditative, with a focussed flow of movement.

When I climb in the Blue Mountains or visit other new (to me) bouldering spots in Sydney, my mindset has now completely shifted. The comfort I have 5m up a wall at Lindfield has meant that mid-grade trad classics that would have made me sweat are now a challenge I can look forward to. I had a great time leading the traverse section on The Spartan at Piddo, something I could have never entertained 4 years ago.

When I look back on my wish of getting to a place where I thought of myself as a climber, it feels like a pretty naïve one. The problem wasn’t me not being good or confident enough to be a “real” climber, but just that I couldn’t figure out how to climb for myself. The real discovery has been the absolute joy I get from small improvements, repeating easy classics, or even having a lazy afternoon when I hardly climb but enjoy a cold beer or a dram of whisky just looking at the rocks at Lindfield. When I walk down past the tennis courts now I feel welcomed and comfortable – relaxed and able to enjoy being there in a way that meets how I’m feeling on the day. Lindfield has opened itself up to me as well – and I’m still discovering new variations and figuring out more efficient ways to do moves.

There’s still some challenges to throw myself at - I still haven’t managed to cling on until the end of Pipe Dreams and I’d love to have a crack at Minuteman on the right day. There’s no rush though, I feel like I’ll wander down one day and it will feel like the right time to have a go. When I do it’ll be with a sense of joy and focus, more about the process than the outcome.

South Ridge of the Dent Blanche (July 2015)

This climb was the conclusion and highlight of my guided trip in the Swiss Alps. Not overly technical, but certainly an exciting route,  it follows a beautiful ridge from the Cabin de Dent Blanche all the way to the peak, mixing fun scrambling with some easy rock-climbing and snowy sections. The immense exposure of the Alps certainly adds a layer to routes like this!

I climbed in a group with Tammy and our guide, the magnificent Andy Cheesedale. I couldn't have asked for a better pair to climb with, and the route when incredibly smoothly. When Tammy tired near the top, Andy eased the mood with some gibberish about puffins (puffin... geddit...) and before we knew it we were sitting on the peak.

We decided to continue past the hut and down into the valley on the way down. This made for an extremely long day of approximately 15+ hours of moving, and resulted in sore legs all round. We stopped for a dip in a glacial pool on the way down. The coldness of the water was absolutely numbing, and I bravely managed to endure it for all of a few seconds. 

We enjoyed a bottle of champagne that night, and sitting around chatting and listening to music with Mr Dawid and Tammy was a wonderful way to finish the day.

GPS track below.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/863825566

Yake-dake with Senor Sagara (April 2015)

With strong legs from a solid winter of snowboarding and plenty of energy for exploring my rapidly expanding world of the mountains of Japan, I set out with Sagara-san and Ogawa-san for Yake-dake. Yake (not to be confused with the mountain of the same name in Myoko, or any number of other burning mountains in Japan) sits above the famous alpine valley of Kamikochi, and is seen by many as the Southern outpost of the Kita Alps. 

We climbed  from nearby to the small onsen resort of Nakanoyu, which is on the windy mountain pass that is now bypassed by the Abe-toge tunnel. The climbing up the back side of Yake was steep and scrubby, and I felt the limitations of my split-board were close. We rounded a ridge to the front side of the mountain, and continued up a snow slope to the peak area. After skiing a small line down, we climbed to another section of the peak, then dropped in to what is probably among the steeper slopes I have been on.

It was probably 45 degrees and broken up, making for relatively conservative safety turns in between side slipping. This was probably a good warm up for the nervousness of the ski out. We followed a massive gully back down into the Kamikochi Valley, with rocks and debris rattling down from above as we skied. In hindsight not an exit I would want to repeat in the boiling hot afternoon sun.

GPS track below.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/782977100

The ticking of Tohoku (April 2017)

Tohoku had been on the to do list since my last Japan season two years back. It offers a range of nicely shaped mountains, a deep snow pack aided by slightly colder temperatures than Myoko, and still appears to be off the well trodden Japan ski tourism trail. The original aim had been a winter trip, using several resorts Eric and I had scouted as a base for powder play. Weather did not comply however, and it was not until Spring this year that the opportunity came up.

Jimmy and Jana were also keen to have some time out of Myoko, so plans were made for a car based trip. I had the relative luxury of a van to myself, whilst they coped impressively with sharing a small hatchback together. On our first day we drove north, making a brief stop in Niigata City for supplies. I picked up maps of a range of mountains, and from there decided to aim for the Iide range. I had previously visited this area in Autumn, and it still remains one of the most beautiful mountain areas I have visited in Japan. Unknown to us though, the access road does not open until late May, and so we only made it as far as the entry gate before deciding to call it a night. We woke to rain, and decided that Iide was not to be.

Instead we headed further North to Gassan, a mountain renowned for running its ski lifts until well into July. Weather was reasonable at the car park, but it was clear that the mountain itself was socked in. Nevertheless, we bought our lift tickets and decided to climb. The route itself is relatively straightforward, although the surrounding terrain has plenty of challenges. Poor route choice meant we found ourselves in some of these areas.

Out first mistake was to take an incorrect left trending ridge, that soon become very narrow and exposed. We turned back, followed the correct route, and were soon at the top. Throughout this period visibility was as low as 5-10m at times. Coming off the peak, we somehow managed to take a gully slightly right of where we wanted to be. A few turns in low visibility, and we found ourselves on firm 35-40 degree snow. Realising our mistake we gingerly worked our way further left, but were met with a small wall of snow that was probably beyond the equipment we had at hand (I had stupidly suggested leaving crampons and ice-axe in the car given the simplicity of the route). We managed to re-climb the 70m or so to where we had gone wrong, thankful to have gotten away with a pretty dangerous mistake.

From Gassan we continued North to Tazawako. We looked at Akita-Komagatake, a well featured mountain above Tazawako ski resort, but decided instead to continue up to Iwate. Iwate is a beautiful mountain near to Morioka, and from the right aspect it shares the same sweeping slopes as Fuji. We climbed an Easterly slope from Yakihashiri trailhead. Unfortunately the lower slopes were snow free, and so we had an hour and a half of walking before reaching snow. Skinning was challenging in the small trees and patchy snow, until we reached the tree line. From there we were presented with an impressive and slightly intimidating view up a steepening snow slope free of trees. We initially skinned but switched to boot crampons half way up given the firm snow.

We had started late after Jimmy slept in, and as we climbed higher he began to slow down, uncomfortable with the slightly tricky conditions (35+ degrees, rocky in places, hard snow). I was a little impatient, and in the end struck out on my own, quickly gaining the summit. Jimmy decided to call it a day slightly below the peak, and I soon hiked back down to him. Skiing was excellent down the 1000m of open slopes to the tree line. Jimmy rode with an axe, but I felt relatively comfortable given the good snow quality.

From Iwate, we made the short skip across to Hachimantai, and had an easy days touring in the pleasant terrain there. We came across many fresh bear tracks while skiing, suggesting caution is worthwhile in this area. From Hachimantai we continued North, stopping in small towns to enjoy local food, culture and the blossoming cherry trees.

Next on the list was Iwaki-san, another beautiful volcanic mountain that holds good snow late in the season. The mountain road and summit chairlift were not yet open, so we had a long, relatively straightforward skin to the bottom of the summit lift. This lift is built for summer hiking, but does get used by skiers for access in late Spring. We cramponed up the lift line, and then made our way up through a rocky path to the summit. By this stage clear weather had shifted to clouds, making the initial drop in more nervous than it should have been. Eventually though we worked to below the clouds, finding ourselves on lovely open slopes above one of the local ski resorts.

After Iwaki we headed North East to Hakkoda. This area is a very famous backcountry destination in Japan. Although the weather can be harsh in Winter, the layout of the mountains is very nice. Small peaks linked by undulating terrain, with a road sweeping around the peaks. We toured from above Sukayu-onsen, climbing Oodake and skiing nice snow back down again. The very old onsen at Sukayu was a wonderful end to the day.

The final peak on our Tohoku list was Chokaizan. Chokaizan is a massive volcano on the Yamagata and Akita borders, and sits right on the West Coast of Japan. We arrived for the opening of Haraigawa Hut, a facility that is free to use when unmanned, and relatively cheap otherwise (~1000yen pp). We made full use of the gas, small library and clean, guest house like rooms. A few older Japanese mountain climber types were also staying, and the initial entertainment they provided soon subsided as they got progressively more liquored up and ate increasing portions of our cheese.

We woke at 3am with plans for a sunrise hike to the peak. The winds had strengthened overnight, and Jimmy decided to stay behind on account of this. I felt lonely and small climbing in the dark, but did have the boucing headlights of two other skiers in front for some comfort. The snow was very hard, and strong winds did make the going challenging. Still, I made the top on skins. The sunrise and soft light as I neared the top was one of the most exquisite sights I have ever seen. It was probably sweetened by the challenging feeling of the climb, but it felt like a just reward for the effort I expended. The ski down was rather poor, and I arrived back at the hut in time for a 7am second breakfast.

The combination of co-operative weather, improved skiing ability and fitness made this an amazingly productive tour. Iide-san remains a target, and perhaps on trips like this it's good to leave something on the list to provide motivation for the next time?

Ontake, Harinoki, Jounen and Hiuchi - A Big Week

This felt like the week my skiing came together. I had started my season in December with a terrifying tour to Kouyaike, struggling to turn on a thin cover of snow on bamboo and other summer shrubbery. Back then I fell more than I care to remember, struggling on moderate terrain and questioning why I shifted to skiing. 

Four months and a lot of skiing later, and I was having fun. Eric was coaxed out of his spring ski hibernation for a chance to tour with the lads, and we set our sites on Japan's second highest volcano, Ontake. We parked at the just closed Ciao Ontake ski area, initially skinning up through the streaky spring cover in the resort. From the highest point of the resort, we continued through a forest, and up a small chute that steepened enough to make skinning slightly uncomfortable. Sagara-san and I scrambled through rocks on the left, while Eric booted up the patches of snow in the chute.

Ontake tragically erupted in September 2014, with 63 people bush walkers losing their lives as a result. Due to this large sections of the mountain remain off limits, and we kept to the other end of the range from the main peak. Despite this we were able to enjoy beautiful spring lines off the range of sub-peaks in the area. Ontake presents as more of a range than single mountain, and would reward further exploration. We enjoyed a fun line of consistent pitch back down to the left of the resort, before a challenging traverse back across through a forest that seemed intent and grabbing, scratching and assaulting me at every turn.

Inspired by that, I joined Jimmy and Jerry the next day for Harinoki. This trip starts at the beginning of the Tateyama-Kurobe Alpine Route, climbing a broad valley all the way up to the peak itself. I started later than the others but soon caught them. We skinned most of the way, switching to crampons as it steepened near the top. We enjoyed great spring snow back down, before playing the late spring game of dodge the avalanche debris on the way out. 

After a days rest, Sagara-san and I decided to try for Jounen-dake, a beautiful pyramid mountain that stands over Matsumoto and Azumino. The approach is long, with several kilometres on a hiking trail beside a river before reaching snow. An earlier season attempt may be more rewarding. We eventually reached snow, and began skinning. Halfway up Sagara-san suggested we take a gully to the left, but I wanted to see the hut. This was a bad decision.

On reaching the hut we were met with vicious winds. I can't think of another time I've experienced such conditions, and it was clear that continuing up would result in not much good of anything. We rested in the hut, chatting with the lovely staff and hoping the wind would weaken. It unfortunately did not, and we couldn't reach the peak. In the conditions one definitely best left for another day.

The next day I still felt strong, and so I headed to Hiuchi by myself. It was a relatively uneventful day, aside from seeing a small bear on the slopes of Kaga-Hiuchi. I tried to ski across to get a closer look but it disappeared into the Northern slopes. 

A wonderful weak of peak bagging and great skiing on consistent fun spring snow!

Takatsuma - Finally!

The combed peak of Takatsuma stands out as a beautiful steep face across the valley from  Mitahara and Hiuchi. Its ridge continues around to the slightly lower Ototsuma, presenting a range of north facing lines of consistently nice pitch and snow quality. I had gazed at these mountains for years, and finally found the right day and partner to make it happen.

The approach is relatively long, with a skin out a forestry road from Togakushi, before climbing to a low point between Saru-yama and Gojizou-yama. From there a traversing line is skied down to below the main climb itself. Most of the climb lines look fine, and the easiest option is probably to wrap around and climb the bowl system below Ototsuma. A skin track was in place up the beautiful thin ridge to the lookers right of Takatsuma however, and after some minor deliberation we started climbing. Conditions were ideal, and it was a relatively simple trip to the top. It does steepen out a little near the summit, and I imagine in some conditions this part would be tricky.

We skinned around to below the Ototsuma summit, where I stashed my skies and continued on foot for the last 100m. I was still getting comfortable on skies at this point, but probably would have been fine from the top (although it adds little to the line). We skied a beautiful sheltered gully down, finding nice slightly set powder all the way down to the flats.There is a wide range of lines to choose from, and easily manageable terrain.

It was a long trip back to the car, but after finally ticking off this long standing goal it was a happy one. A triple treat of iced-coffee, waffle cone and fried chicken was the reward. 

Yari Onsen Resort (May 2017)

It doesn't get much better than beautiful Kita Alps terrain. That is unless you could plonk down a natural hot bath and camping platform right in the middle of some fun slopes in said terrain. That is essentially the setup at Yari Onsen. In Summer a hut is built, and a fee is charged to use the bath. Until that happens though (and while the snow is still around), anyone is free to make the slog up the hill and soak away the muscle soreness that comes from skiing the surrounding mountains. 

I set off at a pleasant hour from the Sarukura carpark, making good time up to the low point on the Obinata ridge. Half way up the climb to Yari Onsen, I met another skier heading up for the night. We had a good chat, and I pushed on ahead. Once at the onsen, I set up my camp, ate some food and had a brief soak in the bath. Soon enough the peaks above drew my attention, and I set out for a climb. I initially intended to climb for an hour and ski back down the same way, but inevitably I kept going, and within a few hours was on top of Yari. The view was beautiful, with a sea of cloud stretching out to the west and soft light to the east.

I took a fun line directly from the peak, enjoying pleasant easy skiing once past the upper slopes. I spent 15 minutes watching a raicho on the way down, before returning to camp for a tasty dinner and early night. The next morning the weather was less pleasant, and I climbed once above camp, before skiing back, collecting my bag, and heading back to the car and Myoko. The gully from Yari into Shakushi-zawa caught my attention, and is a line I would like to return and ski in the future.

Myoko Three Peaks (August 2015)

In the Spring, I was fit enough to do a day ski tour from Sasagamine, up over Hiuchi and then on to the flank of Yake-yama. A semi controlled fall down a chute below Yake shook me up a little though, and I didn't end up climbing to the top. It did however plant the idea of doing a loop over Yake and Hiuchi, and then adding on Myoko-san for some kind of local 3 peaks route. It wasn't to be in the snow (I would still like to try though), but the right day did come up to do it as a bushwalk / trail run. 

I parked by Suginosawa bridge, and started thrashing my way up the bushy Yake-yama trail. Yake-yama is probably my favourite of the local mountains. It has a lumpy, strong presense, and doesn't have an easy approach on any side. The summit is also very beautiful, with lush green jungle transitioning into hyper-coloured volcanic rock and scree. I slipped down the other side into the saddle below Hiuchi. At this point my legs started to complain, but I still had two mountains to climb.

By the time I reached Koyaike Hyutte my calves were particularly sore. Some food, a cold soft drink and some internal deliberation and I was on my way to Myoko-san. The path over to Myoko drops into Kurosawaike, climbs the crater, drops down again, and then finally climbs the West Bowl to the peak. It all took its toll, and I was well beaten by the team I hit the top. It was slow going back to the crater and across the lake, but I picked up again as I started down the hill to Sasagamine. I even managed to jog most of the road back to the start!

I collapsed in the back of the car, fell asleep, waking to make the journey down to 7-11 for some magnificent fried chicken and and ice-cream. A top day out. Unfortunately Yake-yama is now off limits due to volcanic activity. I hope the trails do not become disused like so many others in this area.

GPS track is below.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/875990628

The Legbreaker: Hannel's Spur (November 2015)

Back at work in Australia after a sabbatical spent in the mountains of Japan and Europe, I turned my attention to a few home trips I had been thinking over for a while. Top of the list was Hannel's Spur, reputed to be the biggest vertical climb in Australia at a leg withering 1800m. An old stock route for accessing the lush summer highland areas from Geehi, the track is now an overgrown former track linked together by scraps of fading tape. 

I parked my car and slept at Dead Horse Gap, waking early to drink a cup of coffee, roll down a big hill on my old mountain bike, and contemplate just what I was thinking. Some undulating terrain to the Geehi River warmed up the legs, and soon enough I was strolling across the flats behind Dr Forbe's Hut. 

Hannel's proper starts fine, but soon enough the track becomes hard to follow. In places I was following my nose rather than the track, and on numerous occasions I had to backtrack and search again. I remember sitting on a log half way up the hill, sweating, scratches on my legs bleeding, when a small bird landed on a branch next to me looking nonchalant. I'd genuinely been wondering if I was in over my head, but for some reason that bird calmed me down and I was off again. 

The feeling of coming out of the scrub and into the alpine was sensational. My legs were tired, but I got a second wind that carried  me up the peak of Kosci. I drank some water from a cleanish looking creek, took some photos, and quietly cheered inside at the thought that I was on my way back to the car. I managed a job down into Dead Horse Gap, surprising a brumby on the way. 

I drove back down to Geehi campground, soaking my legs in the river and eating a delicious home made stew and bread. My legs were sore the next day. GPS track is below.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/956970639

Floating up Fuji

It was a fitting end to a magnificent season of skiing. Like every tourist who views the sweeping curve of Fuji-san from the passing train, I'd admired the beauty of this mountain for some time. As a summer hiking destination, it doesn't really excite me. Huge crowds, expensive, and a mountain that shares its beauty best from afar. As a ski line though it does hold some allure. Wide, sweeping slopes, and the chance to impress almost any Japanese person you talk to 😀

I had a small window between organising my life in Myoko and picking up Mum in  Takayama. The weather forecast complied, and I drove across Japan in beautiful warm spring weather. It's quite something to get closer and closer to the mountain, and what looks relatively small but beautiful from a distance, becomes very impressive from up close. I watched the sun set across Fuji from above Motosu Lake, and then drove up to below the Fujinomiya toll-road for a pleasant nights sleep.

 

Fuji seems to hold a reputation for being dangerous out of season, so I was feeling focused as I woke to the sight of the huge white cone looking steeper than it does from far away. I'd expected to find a few backcountry touring types in the 5th station car park, but arrived to 100+ cars and a range of people from the experienced to the very inexperienced. Temperatures were marginal, and so I packed slowly to let the snow soften a little. Unfortunately the snow coverage on this (Southern) side of the mountain was not as extensive as I expected, and so the first 400m of vertical were summer trail mud and rocks. From there it was a relatively straightforward walk in crampons to the lip of the crater.

By this stage the sun was beginning to soften the frozen snow, but despite there being almost no wind 2000m below, strong gusts were ripping across the peak. By all accounts this is typical of Fuji, and I probably had conditions as good as could be expected. I walked around the crater, climbed the peak and chatted with a few other climbers. I had met another Japanese skier with DPS Wailers on the way up, and we decided to enjoy the ski down together. The ski down was a pleasant 35 degrees or so, although the snow was beginning to break up and melt away. From the crater I had seen the other ski routes on the North and East faces, and I suspect that on a day like this they would have been far more enjoyable from a skiing perspective. 

The climb and ski were relatively straightforward and went without much thought, but back at the car I did have a few quiet moments of reflection on the season. From being a beginner on-piste skier, I'd managed to drag myself to the level of being able to feel comfortable climbing and skiing a mountain like Fuji by myself. Not much in the scheme of things, but definitely something I felt proud of.

Monkey life

I've always done a little bit of indoor rockclimbing, mainly as a means of keeping fit, but more recently under the watchful eye of Lane Cove tough guy  Joran I've stepped it up to being a more regular pursuit. Inevitably this led to talk of doing some outdoors climbing (Joran has experience in this realm), and after my usual round of putting off and flaking, the day finally came when excuses could be sustained no longer. Plans were made for a day of adventure in the Blue Mountains, and the multi-pitch adventure of Sweet Dreams was selected as being the ideal introduction.

Naturally I was feeling a little nervous on a number of fronts (exposure, technical difficulty, fitness, general softness on my part), but before I could even roll through these issues we found ourselves at the bottom of a track down off Sublime Point and racking up for a climb. Wonderfully my concerns were completely unfounded, with relatively easy climbing and previous leading practice in the gym making for a controlled sense of adventure. The exposure and beauty of being out on a cliff was really something else, and the simple climbing of Sweet Dreams made this easy to appreciate.

A pair of climbers were tackling another multi-pitch climb on the same section of cliff, and it was great to watch them working their way up what looked like a relatively featureless face (certainly when compared to where we were). I was able to snap off some great photos that give a real sense of the insignificance of a climber when on these walls (which are the photos here). Something to aspire to in the medium term.

We finished the day with some single pitch sport climbing at Shipley Upper. It was good to work through a few more (relatively) challenging climbs, but it wasn't long before my arms were giving out. This has since been addressed through a comprehensive training plan, and I'll absolutely be back for more.

Spring turns (a fitting end to season 2014)

The October long weekend is becoming a bit of an annual event in my calendar. The opening of the road out to Charlotte Pass makes for easy access to the main range, reducing the slog out from Guthega to a much shorter walk up from the Snowy River. It also usually offers nice snow conditions, with enough cover up high for great touring and corn snow that makes for fun turns.

James and I headed out at a moderate hour on Saturday morning, with a few uncovered patches shortly after the river requiring skis off, but then solid cover up to the top of Carruthers. We made camp slightly below the peak, assuming that a small fin of rock would provide enough shelter for a pleasant night. We were completely wrong, and by around 6pm the wind direction had shifted the speed accelerated. We put up a rather poor little snow wall (that blew on top of me during the night), then settled in for some sunset photos followed by dinner. It was possibly the worst nights sleep I have had in a tent, with the nylon constantly flapping across my face. 

We managed some great runs, swapping the splitboard and tele skis regularly. I snowboarded down into club lake via the middle chute, then skied down into Little Austria. We also did a few easy runs on the north east side of Carruthers. On the Sunday we toured out towards Watson's Crags, and although we weren't able to ski any of the great terrain on offer, it has provided plenty of inspiration for future trips.

We ended the weekend sitting in the grass by the snowy river, enjoying a cup of tea and some crisps and soaking up the warmth of the sun. 

God bless America

The twin joys of my working life are the opportunity to tack on weekend trips to national parks whilst in the US, and the ability to accumulate vast amounts of ridiculously cheap outdoor gear through hotel delivery while on the same trips. My most recent spell hit these two notes magnificently, with a sackful of climbing and skiing gear waiting for me at the SF Westin, and the ability to spend a weekend in the Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks via a 4 hour, rather tedious drive from the Bay Area. 

After a tiring but largely uneventful week split between Washington DC, New York, Chicago and unpleasant airports, it was an absolute relief to jump in a rental car on Saturday morning and hit the freeway. I'm always amazed at the sheer volume of traffic on US roads regardless of the time of day, and this was no exception. Wall to wall cars on a five lane road. California is in the midst of a drought, and the hot, dry, dusty drive East was relentless. The ascent up to the parks from Fresno did however bring some comfort, with cooler temperatures and pleasantly green trees replacing the baked, hazy fields. 

I spent the Saturday afternoon seeing some of the more obvious sites: the big trees, Moro Rock and a range of lookouts. I've previously spent time in Yellowstone, Rocky Mountain NP, Yosemite and the Tetons, and the Sierras are no less spectacular. I hoovered down a pepperoni pizza and local ale at the Grant camp area, before taking a sunset night walk around the magnificent trees in Grant Grove. It was a different experience walking among the giant trees in the absence of the heavy crowds present during the day. The night  was spent curled up in the back of my rental Hyundai, padded by an air mat I brought over from Australia and kept warm by a great quilt I had delivered to my hotel by Enlightened Equipment. Ironically it was the best nights sleep I got on the trip.

I was up early on Sunday morning for the drive down to Wolverton. I'd done some reading that suggested this was a good area to hit on limited time, and was planning to head out to the lakes and/or Alta Peak On the drive out I managed to startle a bear sitting on the side of the road, my first close encounter with one of these beautiful animals. I was too excited to snap off any photos, but was energised by the encounter. 

From the trail head I decided to head out to the lakes, and from there try and scramble up to Alta Peak. It was a relatively pleasant run out (albeit largely uphill), with beautiful views over rocky peaks and canyons, contrasting with a small chain of alpine lakes towards the end. I rewarded myself with a cold swim in Pear Lake, then decided to set off toward Alta Peak. Although the route up looks a little scrambly, its essentially an unmarked but fun walk up. The altitude made things interesting, but it was relatively easy route finding to the top. 

From Alta Peak it was a pleasant downhill run back to Wolverton, with regular stops to chat to others out on the trail and to snap off photos. The views out to the main ranges of the Sierra were inspirational for future trips, and there were some beautiful gnarled fox-tail pines along the route. I felt completely relaxed on the drive back to SF, a wonderful contrast to the drive out. 

White's River Powder Harvest

There were numerous occasions on this trip when I had to pinch myself and confirm that it was indeed good old Australia that was putting on beautiful windblown powder in nicely spaced trees. Throw in the kind assistance of a high pressure system offering up perfect blue skies and gentle winds and this was about as good as it gets.

The original intention was to ski over the rolling grounds to Schlink or Whites River on Saturday, then ski back to the main range on Sunday for a nice night up high. Once we started skiing the trees around White’s River the plan quickly changed to getting in as many runs as possible (not to mention it was very cold and the lure of the hut was bordering on irresistible).

On Saturday night the hut was crowded, with around 20 people competing for two benches and a few measly logs generally regarded as dangerous for the purpose of seating. We made the most of it though, with more card game heroics and tales of adventure. It was to the tent (~tarp) for the night though, with the early morning cold quickly putting an end to any feeling I previously had in my toes. Sunday night I quickly secured some space on the hut floor, bush rats be damned.

The tour in across the rolling grounds was beautiful, as was the tour out on the Disappointment Spur trail. On the animal front the only sighting was a sneaky looking fox who has evidently set up home just west of Gungartin for the winter. He/she looked more surprised than I did. It will be interesting to come back to this area later in the season or in a year with less snow, but right now its firmly stored away as a beautiful destination for some nice tree skiing all in sight of a hut with a warm fire.

Broken Dam Hut Ski Tour

Excellent early snowfalls and the absence of a Japan ski trip over the Australian summer had me itching at the thought of a trip to the Snowy Mountains. The call was put out for partners with the usual mixed response, but welcomingly Joran was on the same page. Previously my focus has primarily been on snowboard touring out of Guthega, and this was the initial idea this time around as well. As fun as this is, on snowy and windy days it can make for testing conditions and less than relaxing days. 

With this in mind (and a mixed weather forecast), it was a welcome idea when Joran floated the plan of joining his parents for a ski tour out of Selwyn to a few of the huts in the north of the Kosciuszko NP. It would also give me a chance to test out some telemark skis I had picked up when in the US for work last year. I’d gone for the K2 Wayback, a light mid-width ski that mixes good touring ability with strong downhill performance.

The trip ended up being a three day one: heading out to Broken Dam Hut via Four Mile Hut on day one, day tripping to Table Top mountain on day two, then returning back to Selwyn on day three. I’d done some cross country skiing years ago, but this trip really opened up my eyes to the joys of getting out and about in the mountains without a goal of skiing more challenging lines. As it turned out the Wayback was a decent, but not perfect fit for the tour, with the pattern base skis everyone else was using clearly a superior option. Another purchase to plan out for the future.

Broken Dam Hut was a fantastic base for the weekend. The area surrounding the hut looked stunning with a layer of fresh snow, and the clean and spacious hut made meal and sleeping times far simpler than being tend bound otherwise would. It also meant we could spend afternoons practicing telemark turns on the gentle slopes in the surrounding area.

There appear to be a range of opinions on the huts (including some who see them as being against the values of a NP), but I have nothing but positive sentiments. They are basic facilities, but offer a wonderful mix of simple comfort (for those exploring the mountains for pleasure now),  historic interest (based on those who explored the mountains for commercial reasons in years gone by) and safety (for those who get in trouble exploring the mountains).

The ski tour back to the car was lit by the sun trying to poke out from beyond the clouds. The soft shadows on the snow were spectacular, and at higher elevations the skiing was smooth and (relatively) quick. It had been a welcome weekend of pleasant skiing, beautiful scenery and many laughs, a refreshing break from the Sydney working life.

Kaputar & The Warrumbungles

Pete and I had decided to tack an extra day onto the Queen’s Birthday long weekend and make the long drive north-west to Kaputar and the Warrumbungles, a few parks we had been talking about visiting for a while. Both feature amazing rock formations and because of their distances from the East Coast are relatively quiet. The plan was to pack the bikes to do some cycling, and tick off a few of the more interesting walks in the parks.

We camped overnight at Burning Mountain on Friday night (about a 3 hour drive from Sydney), and got up early the next day to head to Narrabri and on to Kaputar. We arrived to slightly misty and cool conditions, and decided to have an easy afternoon setting up camp and doing some cycling on the long and steep hill formed by the main sealed road in the park. This was testing for my lungs, but helped clear away some of the aftereffects of the cold I’d had the previous week. 

The plan on Sunday was to do the Yulludunida Crater Walk, and consider adding on the traverse out along the crater ridge subject to conditions. It was a nice clear day and so there were to be no excuses. The ridge traverse seems to be known as the ‘Skyline Traverse’ in the rock climbing community, but doesn’t appear to see too much traffic. This is somewhat surprising given how absolutely fantastic an experience it is. The route is about 1500m of scrambling across a very scenic and in places exposed knife edge ridge. Some spots require very basic climbing, with one or two in particular being exposed enough to get the heart racing. The views in all directions are amazing throughout, and this would have to rank among the top days out I have had.

We spent the next two days (Monday and Tuesday) in the Warrumbungles. We ticked off the climb up Split Rock on Monday, before hitting a 15k trail run up onto the High Tops on Tuesday morning. The area has been heavily impacted by the fires of early 2013, but remains absolutely stunning and well worth a visit.

Taffy's Rock Microadventure

I had been put onto the good work of Alistair Humphreys by Hornsby Heights Athlete/Adventurer of the Year and all round good guy A Bowesman (aka the Bowesmanator). Humphreys has made a deserved living out of espousing the microadventure, essentially any short trip out of the city requiring minimal time commitment, but still providing that feeling of really getting away from it. We had discussed doing a microadventure ourselves for some time, and a date finally came up when we could turn plans into action.

The itinerary was to jump on a train out of the city on a Friday night (post work), and start walking from the train station. We would then set up camp, enjoy dinner and a game of cards or two, before returning to civilisation via the walk out the next day. We picked Cowan, having previously done the route out to Taffy’s rock in daylight and thinking the turnaround point would make for a good camping spot. 

The track out to Taffy’s from the GNW is a little scrubby in places, but surprisingly felt easier in the dark than it had during the day. There were some light spells of rain on the way out, but overall nothing of any great consequence. After setting up the tents we sat down for a dinner of braised beef cheek and mixed vegies pasta as well as numerous games of cheat and crazy 8’s. I recall numerous noble victories for myself, but this may be my memory playing tricks. 

Overall the experience was a fantastic one. I was back home in Lane Cove by midday Saturday feeling refreshed, healthy and ready for a game of football. Humphreys is right, time is really no restriction on getting outdoors and capturing the refreshing and recharging feeling of adventure. 

Major Clewes…. The Original Hard Man of the Mountains (a Snowy Mountains Easter)

I find it useful sometimes to reflect on the exploits of other (much tougher) folks who enjoy spending time in the mountains. Enjoyed your 10 hour jaunt among the peaks and feeling like a true hard man? How about doing the same thing, every day, for 3 days in the winter? Along those lines comes perhaps the hardest of mountain hard men, Major Hugh Powell Gough Clewes (hereafter “The Major”). After a career that included extensive time spent surveying areas including the Wollemi and Blue Mountains, The Major took on a job in the 1960s as Senior Surveyor for the Snowy Scheme.

The crux of this role was to figure out where to put the tunnels, roads, dams and power stations that make up the engineering marvel that is the Snowy Scheme. Legend has it that the Major would set off for days with nothing but a wide brimmed hat, a few snacks (energy gels perhaps?) and a small flask of rum. Having spent a little bit of time off track in the Snowy Mountains, this most certainly would have been a very daunting task. Not so for The Major, who lapped up the job at hand. Did I mention he was in his 60’s at this point in time?

Whilst in the Snowy Mountains over Easter, we found a day to take a good friend’s new 4WD on a fire trail from Geehi Flats out to Major Clewes Hut, a small building he built to enjoy his retirement post Snowy Scheme. The hut is in a beautiful location not far from a river, and the remnants of what was apparently once a very beautiful garden are still present. It certainly would have been a very peaceful, if not lonely, spot to reflect on a lifetime spent exploring. There has evidently been quite a bit of effort put in to maintaining and restoring the hut in recent years, and we should be thankful that there are people out there willing to give up large amounts of their own time to ensure that we can all enjoy a little bit of the history of these mountains.

We spent another day walking from Charlottes Pass, up to the Blue Lake and then onwards and outwards to the Sentinel. The Sentinel stands out as a spectacular narrow ridge jutting out to the west of the main range, and is a little startling after the more mellow slopes on the eastern side. I’d been planning to make the trip out for some time, but a day had finally come around with that rare combination of time and good weather.

The ridge starts fairly gently, but soon narrows off to a pad with steep slopes dropping away either side. Shortly before the final push to the Sentinel trig, there are two bands of rock that take this a little beyond an exposed walk.  Technically easy, but enough to get the heart rate up a little bit. The views from the summit are magnificent, sweeping across the back of Carruthers peak, out to Geehi and Victoria, then through to Watsons Crags. Anyone who cracks cheap jokes about Australian mountains has clearly never been to this spot.

Earlier in the day my brother and I had run from Guthega up towards Little Twynam (not making it all the way), so the legs were feeling rather tender when we finally made it back to the cars. Still, the thought of the major traipsing all over the mountains for days on end was enough to put our little adventure in perspective.