Climb Then Walk: Little Forest Plateau

Sometimes I feel like the last person alive who has not been infected by an epidemic virus which affects the brain and turns all thoughts to mush. Theodore Dalrymple. If Symptoms Persist.

I can’t believe that just a few weeks – or was it months – ago, I thought I might not get back into climbing up and down rocks. Thankfully, this patently absurd idea disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared. True enough, the first few days out were akin to the first time you try anything new, mostly uncomfortable both physically and mentally, but, if you persevere past the initial gumbyism phase, everything always gets better.

My first couple of years in Canada whilst learning to backcountry ski, I spent most weekends and some week long tours, chasing after a bunch of men, who had grown up on skis and ice skates, around the mountains telling myself that one day I would enjoy this sport that left me so tired I frequently had to walk down the ski run because I would fall over as soon as I put my skis on, because everyone else was hooting and hollering with joy. In those days, we all used skis so skinny they could qualify as tooth-picks, we had floppy, single leather boots with primitive throw bindings, and it was minus 30 degrees Celsius most ski days. It’s reasonable to conclude that the novice phase was accompanied by plenty of discomfort.

We just had a couple of days away in our van. Climbing at Nowra, on deliciously fun ring bolted clip-ups marred only by the fact that the westerly winds, notably absent this winter, were absent no more. The wind reached almost 40 knots at Nowra airport! Our plan had been to climb two days and bushwalk the third day, but, the problem with being old and not having closer access to climbing (either indoor or outdoor) is that a hard climbing day leaves us feeling pretty stiff and sore the next day. When we got down to the river side crags and the 37 knot wind on the second day, we both felt our ligaments tear off our bones simply looking at the routes.

The answer was to bump everything forward a day, so we drove up to Little Forest Plateau and did the two easy walks up there out to both Rusden and Florence Heads. There’s also a third track that goes out to the cliff line near Mount Bushranger, but we had done that one a few years previous when we walked up Mount Talaterang. As we stood buffeted by wind on Florence Head, I reminded Doug of a previous trip in the area when we attempted to walk up Rusden Head from Wombat Ridge fire trail. Interestingly, he had completely blocked the entire trip from his memory which, perhaps, gives some credence to the idea of “trauma repressed memories.” Something which otherwise seems akin to the circular logic of the trans-gender movement. Question: “What is a woman?” Answer: “Someone who feels like a woman.” Question: “Is your mental health disturbed?” Answer: “Yes.” Corollary, you must have repressed trauma.

Anyway, I remember most of my trips, traumatic of otherwise, while Doug remembers few, also painful or pleasurable. But, to give Doug his due, his head is full of many other things whilst mine is mostly “what training or other activity will I do today?”