Another Word for Decommission is Chop

The first time I went to Waterline Wall in Castlegar to climb it was 2006. I went with Hamish, who later became one of the major route developers. In those days, there were a handful of routes only, perhaps a half dozen, almost all of which were gear routes (trad) and at least 5.10 or above. My notes for the day are interesting, particularly in hindsight with the extreme popularity that Waterline eventually achieved. Here they are reproduced below, and, at first glance, you would have to wonder why we ever went back.

Hamish on the first ascent of Golden Triangle, 
his 3 star 10a line

There are three marked moderate routes - one 5.6 and two 5.7's - none of which look very appealing - they are dirty and look to be full of loose blocks. We ended up starting out on a 5.6, which Hamish led. This goes somewhere up a crag with a big crack/chimney on the left and a crack on the right. Going up the chimney would be close to 5.6 if not for dirt, loose rock and trees, whereas going up the small crack and face is definitely harder than 5.6 and had Hamie breathing heavily and placing lots of gear. I struggled up behind Hamish, taking the easy chimney route where possible. A thoroughly unappealing climb.

Next we toproped a 10a in a big corner. This is an epic undertaking if you set up a bell-ringer, as although the anchor bolts are easy to reach, the climb is long and requires two ropes to set up a bell-ringer. This climb is very good in the upper half. The bottom half is dirty (dirt on the rock and in the crack) but the upper corner is quality climbing. 

Hamish on the first ascent of his classic

 4 star 5.10 a/b route V-20 at Waterline

Within a year, we were climbing at Waterline regularly, Hamish was putting up new routes (with a variety of partners) at a great rate, and those dirty corners, cracks and faces were cleaning up and revealing dozens of high quality routes. That initial route was Black Arrow and is now rated 5.7 (probably soft), the small crack and face is Pilots Crack and one of the best gear 5.8’s in the area, and the big corner with quality climbing in the upper half is The Big Corner, 5.10a, and is now described as “an all round excellent climb.”

Hamish on Tastes Like Saffron

Just under a year later, in April which is about as early as outdoor rock climbing used to start in the West Kootenays, Doug, Hamish and Kyle, completed the first ascent of Tastes Like Saffron, rating it 5.7 and installing four protection bolts for the 18 metre route. This became one of only six sport routes under 5.9 at Waterline Wall. There are lots of quality routes at Waterline, but very few for the novice climber.

Kyle on the first ascent of

Tastes Like Saffron

Fast forward almost 20 years (18) and, on the local community rock climbing page, someone anonymous (never a good look) suggested the route be “decommissioned” which is another word for chopped; which is also, when you are talking about a route that has been in existence for almost two decades in a well known sport climbing area, one or all of several things: weird, hubristic, excessively safety conscious, rude, or silly. The OP (original poster for old people) wrote:

Call me crazy but I think Tastes Like Saffron 5.7 at Ravens wall, Waterline should be decommissioned as a sport route. Perhaps it’s got history I’m unaware of but I reckon that thing is an accident waiting to happen. I very much agree with the one comment about this line on sendage.

Kyle, FA of Taste of Saffron

Gob-smackingly, there were half a dozen comments from people who had never climbed the route (or at least if they had could not remember it) in agreement with one person (a former ski buddy of ours) even suggesting that the fixed gear (paid for by Hamish) be harvested and used on their own routes. Back in the day, this was called “stealing.” But back in the day, if we wanted to change, chop, or upgrade a route that someone else had put in, we did them the courtesy of contacting them! Especially when Hamish literally lives down the road from the crag! WTF are you thinking! This is the age of AI, the information you seek is available within about 20 seconds. I know what I was thinking: “This is how Canadians elected WEF puppet Mark Carney as Prime Minister after watching Justin Trudeau spend the better part of a decade destroying Canada.” Elbows up; clearly, there are a lot of people who are easily influenced by bad ideas!

Tastes Like Saffron

Of course, I let my mate Hamish know, and, along with a couple of other climbers who haven’t yet taken so many knocks to the head that they have addled their brains, the suggestion to “decommission” (aka chop) the route was soundly defeated. A case of the wisdom of crowds, but if the initial crowds had been left unchecked a decent route would have been destroyed for no reason.

Hamish on his route Silk Road

The reality is climbing can never be made completely safe, nor should it be. Waterline is not a great place for beginners who “max out on 5.7,” because there are only two sport routes and two trad routes that are 5.7 and under. History is important, Hamish (who is over 80 now) would have kicked the arse of any of these young climbers snivelling on a 5.7, and deserves some respect for his multitudinous contributions to climbing most of which were completed in an era when gear was worse (significantly), access was difficult, and, to quote Hamish “chickenshit bastards” would never have survived.

A Book Review: Sort Of

Well, I am back from my regular Sydney visit where the inhabits are being slowly boiled alive by a surging population intended to convince everyone that Australia has not been in a per capita recession for a few years. As I sat through multiple traffic light cycles to make every single turn, I wondered if I could actually live in a city again. I don’t think so. It’s pretty grim. There is an awful lot of roadside trash and, unlike down here on the South Coast, no-one walks around with trash bags cleaning up. Someone else is responsible, I guess.

It’s good to know that, here in Australia, the lucky country, we rank lower than Senegal and Bangladesh on economic complexity. We are, and I quote “one of the least self-sufficient and sophisticated economies in the world.” That is the problem with natural resources, whether held by a country or an individual. It’s human nature to squander them. We don’t seem to properly appreciate anything we have not earned.

My Mum’s care home was in some sort of public health mandated semi-lockdown because Covid had been detected in the residence. This isn’t a surprise as they nasally and orally penetrate the residents on a regular basis engaging in tests for something that is mostly symptom free and can only be diagnosed with testing. My Mum is 92, almost 93. She has survived the Great Depression, World War II, bearing three children (and one miscarriage), strokes, heart attacks, the early death of her husband, Covid, and the great lock-downs of 2020. At this point, I think she is like a cockroach, nothing will kill her, not least a minor virus where the average age of death (even at it’s acme) exceeded the average age of death. That’s not a koan like what is the sound of one hand clapping. It is, in fact, evidence of the greatest mass hysteria perpetrated on the world for a century (or more).

Before I went in to visit her, I had to stick a popsicle stick up my nose for the ridiculous RAT test and wear a mask. Which, for a logical person such as myself, is more than a bit maddening. The horse, as the expression goes, has already bolted; Covid is alive and well in the facility. I wouldn’t mind these things so much if they weren’t so transparently ludicrous. A six year old child has the reasoning ability to see that this is performative nonsense.

Speaking of performative nonsense, the book you have to read if you want to understand woke is “We Have Never Been Woke,” by Musa al-Gharbi. It explains all the strange contradictions and, dare I say hypocrisy's that are evident among the people who drive the discourse in Australia today. The book covers everything from the left’s new thrilling obsession with multi-national pharmaceutical industries (who’ve never been known to engage in unethical behaviour!) to the endless bromidic land acknowledgements from people who have no inclination whatsoever of giving back their private property despite acknowledging they are on stolen land. How does that work? I embezzle several million dollars, acknowledge my fraud, then crack on with “living my best life” on the fraudulently obtained money. Sounds like a good gig actually.

Finally, I’ll close with what I should have opened with: a trigger warning. Don’t read this if you are easily offended. Otherwise, have a nice day.

A Week on the South Coast

On the first day: Narooma mountain biking.

 

Camping at Aragunnu.

Day Two: Sunrise at Aragunnu.

Lots of walking, to Hidden Valley, Goalen Head, Bunga Beach and Aragunnu Beach.

And, sunset at Aragunnu.

Day Three:  Mountain biking Tathra and walking the Tathra Headland walk. 

Day Four:  The Kangarutha Track.

Day Five: Tura Heads walking and bouldering.

Not That Old Lady

There’s a vertical finger crack running up between two large cement pillars supporting the new Clyde River bridge at Batemans Bay. I had looked at them when cycling around the Bay a number of times and wondered if, like the Wide Boyz, I should start climbing urban cracks. I’ve never been a crack climber, the techniques, apart from jamming body parts in cracks, as mysterious as how electricity works to me, but the Wide Boyz make all cracks look easy, even the cellar cracks. It wasn’t easy, I couldn’t work it out. I got about a foot off the ground and that was using ripples in the cement for feet. “Needs work, perhaps some technique is missing,” I thought, jumping back on my bike and riding over to the north side of the bridge.

In running shoes, I sent the two problems on the biggest boulder at the new park, and cycled on to Cullendulla where I thought I might, but likely not as the tide was high, be able to cycle along the Cullendulla Nature Reserve track. When I got there, the beach was gone, as were most of the last remaining row of she-oaks along the shore line. Seven years ago, when we first moved to the Bay, there were lovely stands of she-oaks along the beach, but they have all toppled over, felled by storms and big tides. It’s inevitable, the landscape changes regardless of the hubris of humans who believe they can control the weather and tides.

I managed to drag my bike through a bunch of toppled tea-trees to far end of the “new” but now failed/never finished resort that was being built on this low lying, mangrove surrounded piece of land. The “glamping tents” built right against the shore, were all abandoned and the sea had clearly run far under their raised platforms. This was one of those farcical developments which you just can’t believe someone thought was a good idea and an entire committee of other elected individuals thought they should approve. At high tides, anyone staying in the “glamping” villas would have to wade through sea water to get out of their villas. Nothing says five star like putting your wellies on to walk to the cafe. It was no surprise to find the sign on the development indicating the “mortagee was in possession.” Shocker.

Back across the bridge, where the view to the Tollgate Islands is really quite spectacular, Purple Pingers had obviously been along as the pavement was decorated with the slogan “Landlords are Parasites.” Socialists, of course, need vacations too. Unfortunately, dragging my bike through the toppled bushes had caused a problem with the dropper post and I found myself having to ride home either sat on a too low seat with my knees around my ears or standing up. This reminded me of a long ago trip on the old BNR railway that ran from Salmo to Nelson when, not quite half way through a 50 kilometre bicycle ride my seat post snapped and I had to ride the final 30 kilometres with no bike seat. Lots of fun. I had the pannier carrier on the back of the bike imprinted on my arse by the time I finished the ride.

Passing the now closed wildlife park near Joes Creek, I noted, not for the first time, the painting on the water tank in the park, that proudly proclaims “You’re Somebody’s Someone.” This is the new level we have reached in public health messaging, the absurd idea that painting a trite slogan on a water tank will alleviate someone’s mental health distress. Now, I admit, I’m not your average bear, as Yogi said, but, if I were lonely and depressed, reading such a gormless piece of bull-shittery would make me feel even worse. It’s horrible to think about, but, there are many, many people in the world who aren’t somebody’s someone.

With low tide falling at the ideal time of day, around 7.00 am, I walked along the rock platforms from Sunshine Bay to Denhams Beach the next day. This is only possible at dead low tide as there are a couple of locations where you have to scramble right down to water level and balance across some slippery rocks uncovered by the tide. The “cruxes” of the route are around the headland that protrudes to the south west which happens to be one of the only places along the length of the coast here that has private land right to waterline. Many start this route, but, in all the times I’ve walked it, I’ve only seen one other person (besides Doug) make it right the way around. In a couple of spots, you have to climb up (or down, depending on which direction you go) short 2 to 3 metre walls, at least one of which is overhanging.

It’s only about three kilometres between the two beaches but it takes me twice as long as walking the trail as the rocks can be really slippery. I’ve never fallen on it, but, I did manage to have both my feet fly out from under me when descending the steep (and unofficial) stairs that lead down to a tiny pebbly beach on this day. As I slithered down on my bum - I actually thought I was going to slide all the way down to the bottom - some remnant memory of digging your feet in while self-arresting on snow must have trickled into my brain and I stopped. No bones broken, not even a graze. I would hate to be that old lady who breaks a hip on the stairs.

On The Seventh Day

On the seventh day, so goes the legend, God rested, I walked. For six tedious days I’ve been largely stuck in the house (did I mention I don’t do injury well?) except for a half hour walk and a one hour bicycle ride. This morning, everything felt strangely good, so I walked along the Munjip Track all the way to Wimbie Hill and back. It was glorious! A light frost on the ground when I left, but soon, sunny and calm and quiet along the beaches and the track. Ten kilometres, which isn’t a great deal but is 9.5 kilometres further than any other day this week, so I am stoked. And even more stoked to climb on my home wall with only a small twinge or two. Life is getting better and better.

The Commodification of Wild Places: Retreat is Not An Option

Be mentally strong.  Suffer well. Kelly Cordes.

Cordes is hardly a household name, even among a household of climbers. But everyone has heard of “type two fun,” even if type two fun has been co-opted by the coddled generation to mean anything that caused you to break a sweat. Heck, even a bead of perspiration qualifies as type two fun in the age of micro-aggressions and trigger events. Cordes is the recipient of the American Alpine Club (AAC) Pinnacle Award in 2025 for outstanding achievements in mountaineering and was thus speaking to Provost on the AAC’s signature podcast.

It’s a great episode if you like Cordes – who I think is a quiet genius both as a climber/writer and as a thinker. One of those rare and brilliant individuals with little in the way of formal education (a bonus in the age of group think universities) who is as capable of spotting a stunning line to climb as they are of cutting through all the bullshit of modern society. In fact, Cordes almost convinces me that being a thinker and writer go hand in hand for what better way is there to process your thoughts and make sense of the world around you than to write about your experiences.

While the host acknowledges Cordes’ quirky (non PC) sense of humour, it’s not clear that she actually finds anything he says funny, but, then again, a middle class white woman in America is, statistically, more likely to have a psychological condition than to have a sense of humour. That’s not actually a joke, but it should be. For a taste of the trademark Cordes humour, have a read of this, published in Rock and Ice.

Alpine style represents minimalism, showing respect for the places that draw you there in the first place. Kelly Cordes.

We haven’t had minimalism in Australia for a few decades, most especially in public outdoor spaces where the move to over-engineer trails, “mitigate” risk, and reduce any real connection with the natural world has reached its acme. The amount of money and time spent to build short sections of track in Australia has reached mind-boggling levels. Case in point, three kilometres of trail in Sydney cost $9.5 million and took six years to complete! You might wonder if the trail was built with nail scissors, but, in reality, the first five years were probably the compilation of various health and safety reports followed by a year of laying down completely level boardwalk and the ubiquitous bakers dozen warning signs lest a traveller stub a toe.

Among states of absurdity, Victoria has reached dizzy new heights of retardation. While at the same time approving the installation of two via ferratas at Mount Buller (literally iron staircase), the government, under the auspices of the deranged Parks Victoria, has all but banned traditional climbing from Mount Arapilies. Keep in mind that via ferratas involve bolting and gluing iron rungs and cables into cliffs, while traditional climbing leaves no trace on the rock as the second climber removes the protection that the lead climber places. Apart from perhaps some chalk marks, which wash off in the rain, there is no sign of the climbers passage. By this logic, bolted and permanent iron ladder equals good, leave no trace climber equals bad.

What really is behind this extraordinary divestment of rational thinking as, even the loopy left that can’t distinguish men from women, can see that these two options are in direct contradiction to one another. In my mind, it comes down to two things, both of which socialists appear to resent. The first is freedom. Freedom to make my own decisions, take my own risks, and bear the consequences of my choices. The second is money! Climbers have always been known to be stingy bunch, willing to sacrifice all manner of luxury comforts to afford a new cam to fill out their rack. While Rock Wire at Mount Buller can charge almost $300 for a half day tour, rock climbing is essentially free. And therein lies the second orthogonal juxtaposition: socialist governments that love capitalist money making endeavours as long as they can cream their taxes off the top. Australia has entered the commodification of wild places and, like Cordes on the Azeem Ridge on Great Trango Tower, retreat is not an option.

She Go Buggar Up

I shouldn’t be here right now. I should be somewhere along an overgrown track in Nattai National Park, but I’m home because I seem to have buggared myself up. Years and years ago, when I was 28 in fact, which is so long ago I can barely remember it, Doug and I paddled a double sea kayak around the Western Province of the Solomon Islands. The local people spoke – at least to us – a version of English called pidgin English, and the expression we loved most of all, was “she (or he – Solomon Islanders are open about gender) go ‘buggar up.’” Many things went buggar up around the islands, including, somewhat troublingly, aeroplanes and boats. Right now, my leg and hip have gone buggar up. It’s likely some soft tissue injury, which is both good and bad. Good to know my bones haven’t crumbled, bad because soft tissue injuries take so long to heal and are so prone to becoming chronic.

Russels Needle, Nattai NP

We were climbing at Nowra, during school holidays! I underlined that as we usually avoid school holidays but we have had so much rain lately that our climbing trips had been delayed and when good weather arrived I was keen to get out. There was a crowd, an ever-changing crowd, the likes of which I have not seen since we used to climb in Canada and the USA. People came, climbed a pitch or two, left or moved on. Doug and I stayed where we were and simply moved along the routes. We both like this, it’s efficient and you get lots of climbing in. We also frequently climb the routes twice. Back in the day, people used to do this quite often, in fact people often used to down-climb routes. Down-climbing, like trad climbing, is a bit of a forgotten skill but can be really handy if you need to retreat off a route. Doug once down-climbed an entire route in Joshua Tree from the very top removing his gear as he went! It was impressive. The reason we climbed routes twice, and continue to do so, was to perfect your movement after the first time up. It’s an old habit and, despite changing norms, a worthwhile habit. Sometimes old stuff works so well you don’t need to replace it with new stuff.

Climbing as steep as it looks

Any time a crag is crowded weird shit will be going on. Some of it feels slightly unsafe, some sketchy, some downright dodgy. A father and daughter were climbing, Dad leading and outweighing the daughter by about 40 kilograms, with daughter belaying with an ATC. We are in an age where you expect everyone sport climbing to have a gri-gri or similar assisted braking device but ATC’s, like hexes, still float around the Australian climbing scene. Dad admitted to being slightly sketched on a couple of routes “What,” I pondered “would happen if Dad took a lead fall?” Things might go buggar up.

Very cool looking route at Nowra

A few adults with a few dogs and children were belaying the children on two routes separated by a route in between. They had only one rope, so one end of the rope went up to a bell-ringer belay through one set of anchors, while the other end of the rope did the same to a second set of anchors a couple of metres away. The rope was too short for both child-climbers to be on the ground at the same time. So one child would climb up until the short end of the rope on the second climb had extended far enough to tie the other child in to start climbing. Then both children would climb with separate adults belaying them. If one child wanted to come down, they could only reach the ground if the second child climbed high enough to allow the rope to reach the ground.

Climbs in a gorge near Nowra

An inventive use of one rope or potentially open to something dodgy or even a situation where everything went buggar up? Both climbers were light, the rope was used in a top-rope scenario only so not a lot of force on the rope (force = mass x acceleration, both low in this instance), but what happens if both children are unable to proceed up the different climbs and want to come down at the same time? It was vaguely disquieting but, like most things we do, proceeded without catastrophe. Does that make it a good idea? I’m not sure because it’s not entirely clear cut. When not climbing, the children were happily engaged in the sort of improvised play – moving rocks about in the dirt – that children everywhere excel at, so there seemed no reason to have the children continually involved in climbing. In fact, the children were largely uninterested in climbing, the rocks and dirt appeared to hold more appeal. Is that vague disquiet a sign that this unconventional approach is dodgy, or simply a lack of familiarity with the situation? What would happen if it all went buggar up?

A WTAF anchor system

In complex situations, and rock climbing, even in a top-rope situation is complex, I often think the best thing to do is revert to the simplest possible solution. In the above instance: one rope, one belayer, one anchor, one climber. Simple allows everyone to see at a glance that the basic tenets of safety have been attained and does not require complex thinking each time the climber switches out. This is why I find the increasingly complexity often displayed on social media sites (frequently canyoning for some reason?) worth ignoring. After all, no-one wants to find themselves in a situation where everything has gone buggar up.