[BenF]

I loved Jardines too.  Definitely worth visiting, with a climbing style in total contrast to the hill and as Uncle says, its in a wonderful position.

[comPiler]

New Zealand – Flock Hill
6 June 2013, 8:59 am

We arrived at Flock Hill lodge knowing more than we had to sign in to climb. We didn’t know the location of the boulders, how to access them, or any of the problems. The chap at Flock Hill lodge helped us with the first two but knew nothing of the third. A quick toilet stop on the way to the rocks led to a serendipitous encounter. We’d happened to stop at the “climbers campsite” which had a grand total of 2 climbers staying there. Not exactly camp 4, but that’s only a good thing!

It turns out that there isn’t a topo for flock hill, because “we don’t want many people to come here” – according to the guy we met and which I don’t really believe. Far more likely is the fact that it’s on private land. However, it turns out there is a picture book. This wasn’t a concept I was familiar with but it’s essentially a book full of photos of boulder problems at flock hill. Each photo is annotated with a name, grade, and a short description. Sounds like a guidebook… except there were no maps! And it’s very selective. The 2 climber we met were kind enough to lend us their guidebook picture book and off we went.

The first shock was the walk in. It’s about 47.5min ±12.5min and largely uphill. The second shock was the wind. I was getting blown all over the place with the pad on my back. At times I had to get down to avoid getting knocked over and tumbling down the hill.



Flock Hill on the hill up and left – those aren’t small boulders, they are very far away

The boulder field sits on a gently sloping hillside and from a distance it doesn’t look like a large area. But once you arrive at the rocks everything changes. There are a lot of boulders. All sense of perspective is lost as you are surrounded by giant Dali esque boulders. The clearly laid our boulder field descends into a maze of rock.

Being limestone, the rock has been weathered into some unbelievable shapes. Water runnels, holes, and mushroom shaped boulder offer a variety of climbing styles. But being limestone the polish is never far away. The limestone here seems particularly susceptible to polish, and I came across some holds which were beyond even Raven Tor levels of shine. I suspect it’s not simply due to traffic. The rock seems to have a thin coat of grippy stuff which quickly relents to a more glossy and slippery surface. Kind of like brand new climbing holds. You have to do your project quickly or it’s only going to get harder.



One of the less crazy shapes in the limestone boulders

The first hour was spent looking around, trying to find some of the problems we’d seen in the picture book. Eventually we found some of the incredible looking lines but the wind was making it very hard work. Emily had to stand on the pad to stop it blowing away so trying to climb above her and not fall off unexpectedly was a tough proposition. I began to get frustrated at feeling so lost amongst the boulders. The picture book wasn’t exactly helpful and for some reason I just felt like I needed to get my bearings. I felt like I wanted to just walk around the whole day, getting the hill mapped out in my mind. Unfortunately we only had 1 day in Flock Hill so that wasn’t an option. So after doing some more wandering around we switched strategy. Instead of trying to figure out where we were and what hard problems were around we just started climbing.

  Another incredible unknown line up this pocketed water runnel

We’d look at a boulder with some interesting feature and then climb it. First we started in our trainers, pushing the limits of what a pair of 5.10 trainers could do on this slick rock, before switching to our climbing shoes. We climbed some fun slabs with crazy vertical fin features, some great aretes, and then we came across a weird bowl feature above a strange honeycomb cave that looked like the inside of a beehive.

Armchair grading is hard to do in Flock Hill, or it certainly seemed to the case on my first day! This scoop looked relatively easy although it didn’t have any hand holds. It just had to be climbed. I told Emily to get on with it but after she got slightly shut down she tagged out and I stepped in to have a go. With an inkling of a sequence I had a blast and came within a few inches of the top, but making those last few inches took severall more goes, a change of foot beta, and a discovery of some flock hill magic. I was pretty psyched to get up it so psyched I think I did a fist pump and shouted “YES”. Emily commented that she rarely saw me so psyched for getting up something. I have no idea of a name or grade but it was a very fun boulder problem (I have footage to post once we are back in the UK). Very, very different to the juggy roof’s in the Grampians.



Magical climbing on this unknown problem

Once I’d let myself feel ok with feeling a bit lost and quite overwhelmed by the place everything became a lot more fun. Only the wind was making it difficult to climb as it did it’s very best to blow the pad away. It was so windy that it blew my tripod over, which was very surprising given it’s lack of surface area. From getting frustrated at our lack of a guidebook in the morning, it became quite liberating in the afternoon. I let go of wanting to find the classic test pieces and just played around. It was a nice change to the usual routine and in a way I think it suited a place like Flock Hill. I remember one of the most fun days climbing I ever had was doing the purple circuit at Dame Jouanne in Font with Adam Long. We just ran around in our trainers with no chalk, no stress, just moving on rock. Some areas can sustain that sort of session and I think Flock Hill is one of them. That’s not to say I don’t want to crush some of the incredible looking hard problems because I most certainly do. However, if you only have a few (or one) days in Flock Hill then I’d almost certainly suggest just getting lost and climbing one of the many interesting features you’ll inevitably come across.

Source: Unclesomebody

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New Zealand – Milford Sound
7 June 2013, 8:18 am

We drove into Milford Sound only planning to have a look around and do some kayaking. I had recollections of Adam Mulholland telling me about how good the climbing was in Milford Sound but as we drove down the valley I had nothing solid to go on. I didn’t want another Japan episode so I wasn’t about to embark on a trek to try and find a crag, although I could certainly see a lot of rock.

Milford Sound is an incredible landscape. Mountains, not hills, rise at an alarming rate from the valley floor where a single carriageway road winds its way down to the hamlet of Milford Sound. Hamlet is perhaps too generous. There’s a lodge, a pub, a restaurant and a port. Dense forest covers the mountainsides and thick clouds lazily drift up the valley, blocking out any semblance of sunshine. The trees cling to the rock in a way that defies gravity. Even at gradients of 70+ degrees the trees find root. It’s actually quite fascinating how they do it.

It starts with an anchor tree that drops it’s roots into a crack in the rock and subsequent trees use the anchor tree as their attachment point. Entire mountainsides can be covered in thick forest based off of only a handful of anchor trees. But nothing is permanent and when it rains heavily a remarkable sight can sometimes be witnessed. With enough water streaming down the mountains the anchor trees are susceptible to losing their grip in the rock, and when they do lose their purchase a treevalanche thunders down the mountain. A forest sliding down the side of a mountain! The big ones have killed anything/anyone in their path and the scars can be seen clearly for decades.

Milford sound is one of the wettest places in NZ, receiving up to 10m of rain per year. On average, it rains over 200 days a year and the surrounding forest is extremely lush as a result. Seeing large boulders poking out from the trees only 50m from the main road was a tease. Without a machete it looked impossible to penetrate the wall of green. There’s certainly no shortage of rock here, but everything I could see was saturated. How could it be anything else with so much rain falling out of the sky?



Lots and lots of wet rock

A couple of serendipitous encounters led me to a quite remarkable discovery. After randomly asking around for climbers it only took 3 degrees of separation for me to bump into Paul Rogers, an ex-pat responsible for many routes in Milford Sound. Speaking to Paul opened my eyes to how much rock was out there. From single pitch sport to heli approach 10 pitch trad epics. Kind of ironic that so much amazing granite surrounded us but was bombarded by near incessant rain. But then Paul told us about a crag that would be dry. I was sceptical. It had been raining for nearly 48 hours and showed no sign of relenting. Could there really be a dry crag out there? Paul was adamant. He drew us a topo, explained where to park, and showed us some incredible photos. And off we went to The Chasm.

A tiny track led into the forest, only a single stone cairn marking the path from the road. Five minutes later we were stood beneath an immaculate piece of granite… that was totally dry. Unbelievable. It was still raining, but a giant roof at the top of the crag acted like a giant umbrella keeping us dry and happy. The entire crag is very well equipped, with new looking bolts, great double bolt belays, and routes ranging from 1 to 3 pitches. It was proper granite sport climbing! Some routes had been originally climbed as trad routes but were subsequently bolted to make them more accessible and in my opinion it’s worked a treat. In fact, the first pitch can often be wet as the gigantic capping roof doesn’t extend all the way out and Paul has now added via ferrata style rungs so that you can easily bypass the wet section. This might not be everyone’s cup of tea but it does make the climbing accessible.

Hand drawn topo’s from Paul are all we had… but the guidebook can be found at Homer Hut which we subsequently discovered

  Paul had recommended a 23 called Groove Armada which started from about halfway up the crag. From the belay I couldn’t see the end of the route, only bolts disappearing into the distance. Setting off the first groove was a smeary test of stemming skills. The crack at the back far too thin for my fingers but I smeared my way through the groove and into some juggy wall climbing. I was then that I began to understand the name. Up above lay multiple grooves, each in a different style. The final groove was pure joy to climb,. Approaching from the left under a small rooflet and having to pull round and turn to climb the groove on the right was so much fun. Clipping the chains I whispered to myself that it may have been the best 7a I’ve ever done. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised it may just be one of the best routes of any grade that I’ve climbed. Granite climbing up beautiful grooves on a permanently dry crag with perfect bolts. I can’t recommend it enough.

  Emily coming up groove armada – you can see the waterfall and wet forest below

Up next was another incredible looking route, Busta Milford 26. An overhanging wall of granite punctuated by a series of pockets. It’s unheard of. I think the pockets were on a dyke that was made of basalt/gneiss, which was approximately a foot wide and ran almost the length of the route. Starting from a mid height ledge the exposure kicks in immediately as you step off the ledge onto an overhanging wall, the dyke coaxing you upwards. The first few moves were on smallish holds and I overgripped the gorgeous pinch before arriving at the pockets and relaxing. The moves just flowed and I felt I was reading the route well. After several bolts I was beginning to feel the pump and when I looked up I saw another 3 bolts to go, up a steep headwall. I pondered the moves, tried to shake out, but I knew I didn’t have enough in the tank to make it. I shouted take and slumped onto the rope. As the rope went tight I looked rightwards and exclaimed “Noooooooooooooo”. I hadn’t given up with 3 bolts to go, I’ve given up at the chain! What I hadn’t noticed was that I was only 2 moves from the chains which were just up but to the right. I hadn’t even noticed. “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!”. I later found out that those 3 bolts ahead of me were the 31 extension to the route. I can’t believe I failed to notice the chains only 2 metres away from me. Lesson learned: always look around!

    The way up, the way down, and the face of stupidity

Our second serendipitous encounter was with Derek Thatcher, the legend of NZ climbing. The tale was similar to the previous one with Paul, except this time Derek was telling me there was a perma-dry granite cave with routes up to 8c. I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about this place, Little Babylon. The walk in however was best described as perma-wet and Derek recommending a full waterproof get up. I thought he was egging it up, but he was so insistent that Emily and I ended up borrowing full waterproof outfits.

The hike was supposed to be about 30 mins, but I suspected it would take us slightly longer in the pouring rain. Derek had described the path as “It’s ok up until Babylon, but from there shit gets crazy”. I had no idea what he meant. A tiny trail led into a very sodden jungle and within the first 5 minutes the precedent was set: we were walking in a stream. As we continued the path got ever steeper and soon we were climbing vertical sections on saturated tree roots. It was genuinely unbelievable to me that at the end of this path lay a dry crag. In fact, I doubted it was possible. At one point we arrived at a boulder problem on the path. Someone had left a length of rope down it which I obviously shunned in favour of a clean ascent. Eventually, after more tree root climbing and a couple more stream crossings we arrived at an incredible sight.

A huge granite cave, ice cream scoop shaped, with a beautiful bombay of rock at the top. On the far left of the crag was a large waterfall and the strong wind was causing some spray to reach the base of some routes. We were cold and a little wet, but I now fully appreciated what Derek had said: waterproofs were most definitely essential, not optional.



Waterfall at the left hand end of the crag

The warm up was a 7a and as I climbed it I could feel the spray behind me. The route was relatively short and the holds quite good so I came back down and pondered the next move. The rain continued to hammer down, seemingly getting heavier and heavier as the wind picked up. Derek had recommended a 30 called Xerxes which featured a boulder problem start into power endurance climbing to the top. It was a strong line, taking the obvious diagonal up the left side of the crag.

I set off hoping to make the 5th or 6th draw, where I figured I would be pumped. Unfortunately I stalled at the initial boulder problem. I’d forgotten that granite climbing requires a special kind of magic. The holds were all slopey, often facing slightly the wrong direction, and I struggled to see the sequence. I wasted some effort trying a strict no match sequence that was doable but felt very hard. Eventually I unlocked it, using all technique and no power. Taking bad holds at funny angles felt so wrong until my body clicked into the right position and everything felt reasonable. I continued upwards but didn’t get too far before needing to rest again. The moves weren’t hugely hard but they were massively sustained. There wasn’t a solid rest and all the holds were just slopey enough to increase the pump with every move.

After battling to the chains I came down and figured I should have a redpoint but the spray from the waterfall had begun to encroach further into the crag thanks to the ever increasing wind. Then again, this was my only opportunity to have a go as we were leaving Milford Sound that day, so I fired up the guns and set off. Unfortunately I didn’t get very far. The bottom section of the route was now damp and I fell mid crux. There wasn’t much point in having another go in these conditions and my mind was already growing concerned about those small streams we’d walked up to get the crag.

After getting kitted out in our waterproofs we set off into the now very wet jungle. Immediately the difference was noticeable. Previously wet sections were now streams. The streams were small rivers. We arrived at one section and when I told Emily where we were going she laughed as she genuinely thought I was joking. That mini boulder we’d climbed up was now underneath a waterfall. The length of rope that I’d shunned was now a lifeline.



Emily coming down the mini waterfall

There was no point in trying to remain at all dry. The focus was now on getting down safely. I grabbed the rope and lowered into the waterfall. I was trying to stay to one side of it but inevitably swung straight into the middle. It was pretty funny that we’d even managed to do any climbing on the same day that we’d walked through a waterfall to get to the crag. The rest of the path had turned into a mini river and we embraced the wetness. We had a good laugh getting down and once we were dry and in the van it all seemed very funny. I still can’t believe that it’s possible to climb on dry rock in such weather, or that waterproofs are a requirement for getting to a crag.

  More fun on the way down

Little Babylon is a very cool crag and without a doubt I’d love to go back there. Most of the routes are hard so if you’re not climbing 8a or above then I think you would be missing the best it has to offer. If you are planning on going then pack your power endurance. Plenty of it.



Blurry topo of Little Babylon

Leaving Milford Sound I was really happy to have discovered some of the climbing there, but at the same time I was sad that we’d only managed 2 days of it. It’s a magnificent place and the crags that I saw and heard about certainly do it justice.

Essential Info

• Accommodation: Stay at Homer Hut (where all the climbers stay). I’d recommend staying in the hut or in a van at the hut as a tent would be horrible in such a wet environment. Price for NZAC members is $15 NZD/night or $10 if you stay in a van.
• Topos can be found in Homer Hut (especially necessary for little babylon as developent is relatively recent) and there is an ever wonderful new routes book.
• Load up on Food in Te Anau as there is nothing in Milford Sound.
• Bring a bouldering mat! There are loads of boulders near the hut and should it every dry out there will be some stellar problems to be climbed.

 

Source: Unclesomebody

[Nibile]

Get a fuckin' haircut you fuckin' globetrottin' hippy.
p.s.

[ben]

loving your Oz/NZ blog updates, brings back good memories of a trip over there (albeit at lower grades).. bolt clipping in Wanaka, bouldering at the beautiful Jardines, wondering round flock hill in wonderment, following the path up to Chasm crag in pouring rain and finding dry rock at the top.. staying at the Homer hut and bouldering nearby.. ah happy days

Look forward to the next installment..

[comPiler]

New Zealand – One Big Playground
9 June 2013, 11:29 am

NZ has a lot going for it. It has mountains, forest, and beach. It’s relatively large yet minimally populated. It’s well off and comes high on the happiness index. It’s population is relatively young, very well educated, and outdoor sports are on everyone’s agenda. This meant that Emily and I managed to do a lot of fun stuff without much difficulty.

My longest running friend, Ben, now lives in Cromwell, the epicentre of fruit growing. He emigrated to NZ several years ago and his life in NZ is pretty great. Hanging out with him and his blossoming family was great and it made me think that I could probably live in NZ. There aren’t many places I think I could live, but North California and the South Island of NZ are two places that are on the shortlist. The only flaw of NZ is that it lacks truly world class bouldering (then again, I live in England!).

Kayaking

Looking confused as to why I’m the only one paddling

 Our original intention was to go kayaking in Milford Sound, partly because we expected it to rain every day and partly because we had no beta on the climbing. Our first day there defied expectations and turned out to be a glorious day of sunshine and blue skies. We hit the water on a guided tour around the sound. We didn’t venture particularly far into the sound but we had a great day. From the water the surrounding peaks really took on a magnificent stature as they grew dramatically from the waters edge. Due to the lack of rain we were able to get up close to some huge waterfalls. Peering beyond their tops it was possible to see how Milford Sound gets it’s water and power. The volume of water flowing per second must be gigantic and provides an endless source of nutrition for the tiny hollow.

    A wonky milford sound, a treevalanche scar, and some morning sunshine

The story of how Milford Sound came to be is pretty interesting. It turns out that the son of a God had a chip on his shoulder so he got a giant lightsaber and cut the whole pace out of solid rock, just to try and get some positive validation from his parents. I’m not sure what the moral of the story is. Perhaps: “Do something amazing and you’ll get the love and adoration of those around you otherwise you’re nothing”. Maori culture seems tough.

Mountain Biking     The way up, a sketchy northshore section, and Ben trying to keep up

Living close to Queenstown means 2 things: access to great burgers at Fergburger and high quality DH riding. We hired some bikes for an afternoon and hit the gondola.

I was really looking forward to ripping down the mountain on the Specialized Demo that I’d hired from Outside Sports. I love mountain biking as it offers something that just doesn’t exist in climbing: speed. It also tests me in a very different way. It’s hugely psychological, in a way that’s very different from trad climbing, so getting amped to hit a big jump/drop is always good fun. Unfortunately the experience was disappointing. The Demo was awfully set up, not particularly well maintained, and I felt like I was fighting rather than flowing. Ben had hired a Giant Glory and swapping bikes was like night and day. I was a little annoyed about it but riding with Ben was great fun. Almost like nothing had changed in 15 years!

Emily, on the other hand, had an awful day. She hired a Giant Reign and it was so badly set up that it defied belief. I may not be a professional rider but I was once offered some sponsorship, I have ridden a lot, and I also worked as a bike mechanic. So when I tell a shop that my wife’s bike needs attention only to be met with “it’s fine” I get quite annoyed. The brake levers were travelling all the way to the bar, so 1 finger braking meant crushing the other 3. 2 finger braking reduced the control and still crushed the 3rd finger. It was really irritating to be told that the brakes were fine, so shame on you Vertigo Bikes. I know rental bikes takes a beating but there’s no need to have them unusable.

Paddle Boarding Ben was kind enough to take us paddle boarding after the weather in Wanaka crapped out and meant we couldn’t go flying. My very first question was if he had wetsuits. I’d heard padde boarding was kind of difficult and the river was inevitably going to be cold. Ben assured me that it was easy and that we didn’t need wetsuits. I insisted, so Emily and I got wetsuits and Ben went in shorts and a t-shirt.

The current in the river wasn’t too swift but I was very aware that only 1 minor wobble would result in getting saturated. Ben went out first, made it look very easy, then Emily followed. I actually expected her to fall in but she proved me very wrong and got straight on. I was last and slowly stepped on the board. As I was quickly trying to learn how my movement affected the pitch, Ben came over to reassure me. As he came across in front of me he looked directltly at the camera and then developed a tiny wobble, which in the blink of an eye resulted in him being dunked in the river. Proof! It wasn’t so easy after all!

  Ben showing us how it’s done

An hour later we were miles down river and it turns out that paddle boarding isn’t all that difficult. Ben just got unlucky (and cold). Neither Emily nor I fell in and I was really impressed by Emily’s skills. Although, to be honest, she was hankering for a swim so I think she was trying all sorts of pirouettes because she wanted to fall in… She was definitely the champ of the day.

 

Source: Unclesomebody

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Fiji – Nothing is Difficult
14 June 2013, 9:58 am

How hard is it to do nothing? Pretty hard as it turns out! After 32 days in the Grampians and 17 days of various activities in NZ doing nothing seemed like a tough proposition. I wasn’t really looking forward to it. I kept mumbling things about getting out of shape and needing to find a pull up bar so that I could at least do something.

I can’t remember the last time I went away on a non climbing trip. Even going to the states for a family wedding turned into a sly climbing trip, where we spent more time climbing than with family. Fiji was set to be a true holiday. No climbing. Five days of proper relaxation.

Day 1 I was bored. Sitting around doing very little and having all your meals prepared for you was boring. I tried snorkelling but I was too poor at it to have any fun. I just kept swallowing water and getting water in my eyes. Day 2 I relaxed into it and spent the whole day reading, only moving to follow the shade. I still don’t understand how people lie in the sun all day. The shade was hot enough! I also went snorkelling again. It turns out I’m not shit at it and that on Day 1 I had a snorkel with a hole which explained why I was constantly swallowing water. Snorkelling is actually great fun and with a vibrant reef full of colourful fish I had a great time. I’m not really a water person but I really got into it and can definitely see the appeal. I just wished I could hold my breath for longer than 60 seconds.

[Show as slideshow]                                                                                                        The remaining days were spent reading, snorkelling, and relaxing (apart from a slow 3 hour hike up the local mountain to take in some incredible views). Five days without climbing or any real physical exercise made me feel very lazy, but in the end I really enjoyed it. I’m not sure if I’d do it again any time soon but I’m glad I allowed myself to appreciate it for what it was.

Total pull up count: 0

Books read: 1 (Predictably Irrational by Dan Ariely – An enjoyable read, thanks Slackline, but I thought it was too pop-sci. I think I just want to read science journals… any more recommendations on decision theory or behavioural economics?)

Source: Unclesomebody

[andy popp]

If you're interested in decision-making in economics Keith you could do a lot worse than reading some G.L.S Shackle.

[unclesomebody]

If you're interested in decision-making in economics Keith you could do a lot worse than reading some G.L.S Shackle.

Thanks for the recommendation Andy. I'll look into it.

[duncan]

If you're interested in decision-making in economics Keith you could do a lot worse than reading some G.L.S Shackle.

Or, closer to home, something by this chap who has somehow managed to acquire professorships in Barcelona and Fontainebleau.

[Thanks to John Gillott for pointing this out]

[Monolith]

 

I had no idea MLM was such a head. A very impressive CV!

[lagerstarfish]

for background reading on decision making in general, I can recommend Irrationality by Stuart Sutherland and Our Own Worst Enemy by Norman Dixon (and his The Psychology of Military Incompetence of course)

on reflection, it was nearly 20 years ago when I read these, so they might be a bit dated - easy reading though

[slackline]

Irrationality by Stuart Sutherland

This was what I recommended originally, I'd never come across Predictably Irrational until I read this blog post by Keith.  As you say pop-sci/easy reading.