I’ve always thought it might be exciting to be benighted, ever since I started carrying an emergency blanket (thanks to Rene’s sound advice) on multi-pitches… and now please never ever again!
The second day of Winnie's welcome to the Welsh wilderness (of the New South variety) would involve us tackling the beautiful, long and exposed, 8-pitch Bunny Bucket Buttress. After the smooth and lovely adventure on Sunday of Tiger Snake Canyon, Monday’s adventure turned into what can only be called the complete opposite, a disaster.
A series of unfortunate events turned a climb I had previously done in 7 hours with Sam into a 29 hour epic involving gashed legs, dropped keys, bleeding fingers, failed haul systems, much ascending and a long cold night 150m up awaiting the sun.
Waking up at quarter to 7 in Hazelbrook, Winnie and I got to Pierce’s Pass carpark by quarter to 8 and after hiking in and the brilliant 2-pitch abseil we were starting the climb around 9. The thought occurred to me that we might even have time to squeeze an hour in at Shipley Upper before sunset - Oh the irony!
I linked the first two grade 18 pitches to what I’ll call the first anchor 40m up. A tough bouldery start and a tricky traverse off a ledge before the anchor definitely made me focus (I’ve climbed easier 19s) and my mistake of not reading the guidebook’s advice of 15 quickdraws meant I had to faff around back collecting 3 as I went. Winnie, who as the second had the not so light backpack with 1.5L of water and shoes etc. struggled with the start and fell. She needed lowering (due to the overhang) and I delayed in realizing this and rigging the auto-lock to lower.
She got the tough moves the second time and cleanly made it up to the tricky traverse when I realized I’d left her unprotected from a swing because of my back cleaning! Usually so aware of my second while leading Trad I kicked myself for that. After Winnie fell and took a swing I decided to lock her off, extend my clove hitched safeties and down climb the few metres to put draws in. A little dodgy but with 2 safeties I was happy. She got it the second time but such a tough start to the day, not so fun falls, and the height and exposure we were reaching was definitely wearing her out physically and mentally.
Then I dropped my keys from the first anchor…
I swear that pocket was zipped up! Hearing the jangle I knew it before I saw them and sadly traced the keys with my eyes as they fell to the ground 50m below. I figured better to leave Winnie at the height she’d gained so I abseiled down, found them, and used my prusiks (which everyone should have 2 of, but are still way slower than mechanical ascenders) to ascend back up. While quicker than slowly lowering and placing draws through the meandering first two pitches to then re-climb them it sure took a lot of time.
Winnie expressed her worry at the distance and daylight left to go and in hindsight I realize this was a critical turning point in our whole escapade. It was 2.30pm, the option to retreat and hike out (no matter how rough or long the track) was there. However with only two 18 pitches left, 2 easy grade 8’s that we could simul(taneously) climb, and the last 70m being not too hard 17 and 13 (that I felt completely fine to lead in the dark) I felt that we could finish an hour maybe two, after sunset, no biggie! And… I did kind of want to finish the climb.
Winnie started to lead the third pitch but being already quite exhausted and shaky backed-off before the crux traverse. So swapping again I led the third and found it completely terrifying. A super airy traverse with your feet delicately trusting bulges in the rock followed by a tricky face climb up an exposed prow; along with distracting rope drag I’d created by not tactfully using the double ropes, really shook me, despite having led it before with Sam seconding. Winnie followed skillfully even with the backpack.
We then simul climbed the next two pitches up to our third anchor as darkness descended. Eyeing the 6th pitch I said “I would have preferred to lead this in daylight… but I guess maybe darkness will make me forget the exposure”. I just wanted to go home so gritted my teeth, trusted my feet and trucked on through the grade 18 6th pitch. A hand traverse under a roof, with your feet sticking to nothingness sure was fun with a head torch and cramping arms. I felt pushed to my limit despite the grade. Coming out onto the imposing headwall I reached the 5th anchor at about 6.30pm and soon started belaying Winnie up. I knew that once she got to this anchor with only a 17 and 13 above we’d be home free.
But then she fell off the roof traverse and gashed her leg on an edge…
Hanging in space with only one prusik, her gri gri sitting at home on my advice, Winnie couldn’t ascend (I now realize a foot-wrap might have worked). I rigged a 6-1 hauling system but the rope coming around the angle of the roof made all my pulling futile. I gave slack in one of the doubles and asked her to tie knots (say overhands or alpine butterflies) to climb it but she was too tired and injured with her left leg shaking too much to do so.
The shouting back and forward, the cold wind and hopelessness of the situation started to bite me. But each time I quickly pulled myself together. I realized staying calm and thinking clearly was paramount. I knew we could do this, we were ok.
So I decided that I’d lower her back to the anchor and when she was safe I abseiled to join her. “I’m sorry” said Winnie, but I waved this away. “It’s no-ones fault, if anything, It’s mine for dragging a second up something too hard!” I knew Winnie could do these moves, being comfortable on 19s, but many pitches, a backpack, exhaustion and shakiness, and only getting one chance to avoid a swing made me realize being comfortable on 20s for this tough 18 would have been more ideal. She’d been through a lot. “We’re both okay, and that’s what matters” I said as I gave her a hug, and we both calmed down.
Winnie's leg was thankfully not extremly bad, deep but not bleeding much. By now it was nearly 9pm, to descend would involve three hard abseils and then a 4 hour hike out. This seemed not only dangerous, but impossible with Winnie's injured leg. ascending the rope and then climbing two more pitches that night was madness so with a resigned grin I said “Well… looks like we’re being benighted”...
I had some water to quell the killer headache I’d been getting and assessed the situation. We had half a litre of water left, a few muesli bars, it was a relatively warm night with cloud cover (it only hit 5 degrees, a lot nicer than snow, which it did the night after!), and while windy not terribly so. I reassured Winnie we would be fine and wouldn’t need rescue (though we had phone reception if it came to that. A PLB are something I bring now too) so we settled down to our dinner of a granola bar and a carrot. I called family and Vicky, who knew where we were, to let them know what was happening; that we were fine and would be out in the morning. I also took some more photos; “How can you still be taking selfies!” Winnie laughed. We stayed safe to the anchor and made a bed out of grass and the slack in the ropes (after I removed the huntsman Winnie didn't want to share with) next to what was probably Rene and co’s. fireplace from the midwinter solstice. If I'd had a lighter, life would have been infinitely better, so instead of a fire we wrapped up in the emergency blanket and hunkered down for a long cold night.
Winnie fared a slightly better during the night having my down jacket, but we were both freezing and shivering on and off with probably just an hour or two of sleep between us. The emergency blanket made a world of difference, which was made even clearer to me when I accidently ripped it at 4am. Suddenly the insulation keeping me survivably ok was gone and the wind sucked all warmth. I shivered uncontrollably before re-arranging it and hugging Winnie tight a good few minutes.
“We made it” …
Hearing Winnie I stopped trying to block out the world and opened my eyes to see daylight filtering through the clouds over the valley. Feeling incredible relief and as always blown away by the Grose I laughed “Well, there are worse places to wake up”.
We had a meager breakfast of half a carrot and a muesli bar and some more water before ascending to the fifth anchor to skip the roof traverse. It started raining during our ascending (which wasn't great but created a beautiful rainbow) and I was worried about climbing the 7th pitch. But the cruel wind had some kindness as it dried off the rock when the rain stopped. We climbed the 7th pitch, which is littered with good ironstone edges and some jugs (which I couldn’t feel with frozen hands) and I was impressed as Winnie seconded well despite her leg still bleeding. She did really well to climb out on it.
The final exit pitch is not a bad 13 chimney but I couldn’t care less. The moment Winnie topped out a huge sense of relief and accomplishment hit me. We set to coiling and cleaning and shared a hug. We had done well, kept good spirits, overcome countless obstacles together and now just wanted to go home.
The hike out was really nice, we could still appreciate the Grose’s beauty despite being so happy to get out of there. Calling everyone to let them know we were out provided a nice sense of finality and security and we conversed cheerfully as we walked.
When we made it to the car by 2pm and started driving home (to make my work at 4.30) we ravenously fell upon our food. Winnie made veggie wraps (with sun-dried tomato dip!) and we also had natural co snakes, salt and vinegar chips, 2L of milk (no water left) and left over beef stir-fry. Why the detailed description? All of this food after 6 muesli bars and half a carrot over 29 hours made for one of the most memorable and enjoyable car-trips of my life, hopefully for Winnie too! Exhausted but safe and on our way home, we made it back to Sydney by 3.30pm, just enough time for a nap and all.
Brendan