The First Ascent Of Belourgery Split Rock - Warrumbungles
By Dot English
from The Bushwalker Annual
Australia is a land of paradoxes. Our magpies are not magpies, nor our
pee-wees pee-wees, nor even our wagtails wagtails; and during
Parliamentary elections each aspiring member of the Opposition hastens to
assure us that the Honourable Members of the House are not honourable.
Having had our childhood faith shattered in so
many directions, it will come as no shock to
be told that our mountains are not mountains,
that they are merely plateaux fissured by deep gullies—inverted
peaks if you like—quite an upside-down
arrangement.
When
you realise that these disconcerting facts
are continually being dinned into the brain by
every would-be ornithological, political
and geological expert, it
is small wonder that one comes
at last to believe them.
So it is a pleasant surprise to discover
that rising 2,500 feet
from the plains of the flat western slopes,
some 200 miles north west
of Sydney, loom the
Warrumbungle Ranges, whose summits, although
only 4,000 feet high, can be definitely termed mountains
in the true sense of
the word, some of them being stark,
rocky peaks, rising naked above the forest lands.
They are very arid mountains, for the streams seldom
flow except when in flood, and
the so-called "springs" are
generally merely seeps of water
which collect in rocky basins,
utilised by the eagles as
bathrooms, and consequently not
particularly inviting to mountaineers.
Still, arid or not, they are
mountains, and our party of six had made
its way towards them
via Gilgandra and Tooraweanah (two of us
being kindly driven out from Gilgandra
by the father of our
Club member, Evelyn Higinbotham), and pitched camp
on a clearing at
the foot of the
western face of Split Rock,
whose sheer, trachyte
walls towered 1,500 feet or more above
our tents, which, by
the way, were situated a ten minutes'
walk from the nearest "spring."
This mountain, one of the few
remaining unclimbed peaks in this land of
ours, was to be the victim
of our serious attack,
and it had on the whole, quite formidable
opponents.
There was Dr. Eric Dark, valiant President
and sole survivor of the Katoomba Suicide Club, whose members considered
it a recreation to crawl up and down the decayed, sandstone faces of the
Blue Mountain cliffs, in such precarious spots as no-one without suicidal
tendencies would ever dream of attempting.
Next comes Marie Byles, who can claim to her credit numerous virgin peaks
scaled in other lands, having mountaineered in Scotland, Norway,
Canada and New Zealand.
All these achievements were, however, merely a background as
far as I was
concerned; to me she was a voice crying in
the cold, pale dawn, while the
stars still snapped in the quiet heavens,
"Time to get up!"
Then there was Mr. Paszek (pronounced "Parshek"). We called him Pan ("a"
as in half). He was Polish, and had spent much of his youth climbing in
the Dolomites and the Swiss Alps, as a member of the Tatra Mountaineering
Club. Pan was a beautiful thing, with lean, picturesque figure surmounted
by a silver halo of hair and with long, artistic fingers.
Suzaiine Reichard was an added attraction to the landscape, with
powder-blue shorts, soft, clear skin and baby dimples in her legs. What
she may have lacked in climbing technique, she made up in perseverance.
When I explain that her father is an Alsatian, you can trace the origin of
this trait.
Concerning Frank Preeguard, he openly and honestly made no claim to being
a climber. His presence in the party was justified
by the fact that he was
a photographer, and also, incidentally, a
walking Baedeker of the locality. "What's
that peak over there?" asks someone, pointing
out a faint, blue smudge on
the horizon, crowded by numerous
other faint smudges; and forthwith
Frank gives its
name and history, past, present
and to come.
Since we are becoming personal, it would
perhaps be as well to bring myself
into the picture. As the Society page of the
"Warrunbungle Weekly" put it: "She work a
ducky little pair of shorts, cutely fashioned from the
dust-cover of a
taxi, picked up one night
in Hyde Park, dyed khaki, artistically
slashed and gored, and patched on the seat."
This depicts only my outward
appearance; inwardly I came armed in the
knowledge that I had been the
best of our gang as kids
in climbing trees, telegraph poles,
flagpoles, railway embankments, excavation works, underground sewer-holes,
brick-kiln chimneys and sea cliffs, and
strong in the faith that "Nothing is
Impossible."
I could go on for hours telling you of
the members of the party,
but that's not what I'm here for. I
have to tell you
how we climbed the Split Rock,
so enough!
The first two days we did a little test
climbing up the Bluff and the Needle, so as to get
used to the feeling of
being roped together. Believe me,
at first it didn't
appeal to me in the slightest, this being
inescapably tethered to one end of a rope,
and thereby having my fate linked, willy-nilly, to that of whatever
reckless or careless brother climber might be
on the other end. I
was as suspicious as a cat whenever I noticed my partner on the
rope contemplating a risky
climb; you bet I
was thinking of my own safety as much
as his. However, as a knowledge
of the prowess of my
partners increased, I became more or
less reconciled to being tied up to them, but a
comparatively restful mind was only the result of eternal vigilance.
Before attempting the Split Rock, we circumambulated it numerous times
and surveyed it from all angles,
bringing the spy glasses to bear on such
spots as seemed to offer
likely foot and hand holds to the summit.
Until you have rock-climbed, you have no idea how deceptive heights
can be. What look like
reasonable steps when viewed from below, turn
out to be huge blocks 15 or 20 feet high,
quite impossible to surmount.
We tackled the northern face first, and spent half a day in reaching a
spot about a quarter way up, which we finally
had to abandon as impracticable. Failure? Perhaps—but you weren't there to
see the place for yourself, so how can you judge us?
The next day Doc., Pan and I, after lengthy
deliberation and ponderous calculation, cast a vote in favour of the
western face.
Although this is by far the greatest height, the slope of the rocks seemed
to be in our favour, being comparatively free from the overhangs which
spoilt our chances on the south and east faces.
We waited till about 10 o'clock for the sun to rise sufficiently to warm
the atmosphere, for our experience on the
shady side of the Needle, in the chill of the late afternoon, had taught
us that it is only adding an extra handicap to try to climb in a
refrigerated atmosphere on cold rocks, with
an icy wind trying to whip you off your
perch, and your fingers so stiff and blue with the cold that it takes
fully a minute to straighten them out after relinquishing one grasp
for another.
Setting out with 200 feet of rope, we found the first five or six hundred
feet easy—a "walk-up" as we
say in professional circles—and
we hardly had to use the rope at all.
But having reached that height, it then
became necessary to traverse sideways before
we could continue our upward climb.
We had agreed that when
there were vertical up and down climbs
to be done, I was to
lead the way, being the most ape-like, and when
it was a
question of sideways traverses the
Doc. would go first on
the rope, as he was a specialist in
this form of progression. Accordingly we
took up our positions, with
the Doc. leading me in
the middle and Pan on the other end. Now, Pan
had reached that age of discretion when a man knows his
limitations, and after
a good look at the place we intended
to cross, told us to go on alone,
as he didn't think he wanted
to go any further. So
he waited there, on one end of the 100
foot rope, while we two of lesser
caution set out to traverse
a very dangerous 200 feet of cliff
face.
If I took as long to tell you about it
as it took to do
it, you would be reading for hours. Inch by
inch we edged along, clinging to scarcely
perceptible ledges of grey, lichen-covered
rock, feeling our
way in those places where we couldn't
turn to see for fear of
upsetting our balance by a fraction of an
inch, pausing now and then
on some relatively safe ledge to
draw a deep breath, for
the suspense kept us so tense
we hardly dared to breathe, and then on
again, high above the giant Eucalyptus
which, in the valley below, appeared
to our wide-open eyes
no bigger than match sticks; and always the
huge eagles,
wheeling aloft, surveying us from their
untamed heights with fierce, contemptuous
eyes. If they chose to attack us as we clung like limpets to that
stark rock face, we knew who would come off best.
About two thirds of the distance across brought us to a narrow slit in the
rock face, not more than a foot wide, into which I wedged the lower part
of my anatomy while I collected my breath, the Doc. meanwhile draping
himself over a jutting piece of loose rock, which, in contrast to the
dizzy ledges just passed, was as safe as the
Bank of England.
Here we stuck, body half attached and half free, like exploring leeches,
while we took in the next stretch of our journey and discussed
our prospects. Could we go on, or ought we call it a
day? I don't
know what the Doe's thoughts
on the subject were,
but mine were "I'm damned
if I'm going back the
way we've come!" I would have preferred to
take a flying leap into space,
in the hope of gliding gracefully down
to the base of the mountain, rather
than retrace my steps
along those hair-raising ledges.
We must have perched
there for a quarter of an hour. The sun was shining
on us, and it was so nice and
warm that I didn't care if we never went on.
However, the Doc., who has the true spirit of a mountaineer, soon
tired of ignoble inaction and was eager
to be off again.
As I happened to be
somewhat in front, it was decided that I
should now lead the way, for it would
have been risky to attempt changing places
on the rope, so accordingly I
set off along the verticle wall
of rock, clinging to
what faint markings I could, while the
Doc. held the rope belayed around his wretched
loose boulder. I can't say I went any
more carefully because of the fact that the boulder was loose—having
already reached the limit of utmost caution
—but I knew perfectly
well that if I slipped, my sudden
weight on the rope
would dislodge the rock and Doc., and
that we should accompany it, with a
wild crash, into
the valley below.
Even as I'm writing this, my heart
is going thump, thump,
thump, my breath is trembling and I'm
biting furiously at my finger nails. I
wouldn't mind betting there are a few more pints of
adrenalin coursing through the system than normally.
With infinite caution, I proceeded to
a bulging shoulder of rock which had been
blocking our further view. What lay on the
other side would determine whether we went on or not.
I flattened on
to it and peered round the corner, with bulging eyes, while the Doc.
called, with suppressed excitement, "What about it? Can you go on?"
"Oh, yes, it's easy," said I with a laugh
that was meant to be reassuring, but which sounded more like the uneasy
laugh a man gives when he is pretending he isn't afraid; so after I
had belayed our life line over an embossed knob an inch
or so high, the Doc.
traversed across and was soon by my side.
"Would you like me to go first?" he asked.
You might be inclined
to pass this over lightly as being just
an ordinary example of masculine chivalry, but believe me, it meant
more to me than I
can ever express. The true heroism of a man's character shows
itself when life is at stake. Doubtless I
would have gone on if this
outlet had not been offered me,
but if so I swear I would
not be here now to
tell the tale.
It was necessary to change places on
the rope, otherwise it would
not have run through
the belay, so we crouched
on a couple of
ledges along which even a lizard would
have thought twice about passing,
while we carefully
untied the few knots which lay between us and
the Hereafter, and swapped places.
Let it be known, to my
eternal discredit, that I had privately thought I was the
better climber of the
two, but when the Doc., without a
moment's hesitation, prepared to round that corner,
I knew all the humiliation of pricked self-conceit.
Crouching there, with my back turned, the ledge
being too narrow to reverse
my position, swearing
softly under my breath, and with my
little finger clutching frantically the stem of a
struggling piece of mountain vegetation,
hardly as thick as a lead
pencil, I screwed my head over my shoulder and glued
my eyes on the rope, sinuously sliding over
the belay.
My companion had spread eagled himself
over the surface of a
huge mass of overhanging rock, grey with loose, dry lichen, and was
clawing his way over with finger nails and toes,
like a cat trying to take a corner at full speed on a polished
floor.
He is out of sight now over the top. What
lies on the other side? God knows. There may be a sheer
drop away. If so, this is the end—that
little knob of rock won't stand the strain of a
sudden jerk. Be strong, little rock, be strong!
Is there anything more discouraging than the deceit of a friend? Although
it was such a frail support to depend upon, we were relying on that little
rock, and right at the critical moment, it let our rope slip off.
Novelists tell us that when people are facing
utter destruction, they pray
or begin a
review of their lives—no doubt a hurried
collecting together of their good qualities
so as to have them at their finger tips when St. Peter calls for reasons
why they should not be forever damned. I cannot claim any such
experiences. It would appear that we fear
death till it is almost upon us, and then we
become quite calm; after all, it would be a great adventure
to die. The first shock over in a second,
I pictured us dropping down through the hot,
scented air, which blew cool in our faces
in our swift descent. The tree-covered slopes
far below looked so soft and cushiony that it
was ridiculous to think we would hurt ourselves if we fell on them. Still,
even if we were not borne up by unseen hands before hitting
the bottom, we would be soon after, so what
did it matter anyhow?
However, all this expenditure of thought was unnecessary, for I soon heard
a voice calling from the other side that there was an excellent ledge
there, and all was well. It didn't take many moments for me to reach his
side;—a rope around the waist, held by a comrade with a cool head and a
steady hand, plus the knowledge that there is a safe haven round the bend,
gives one amazing confidence.
The remaining hundreds of feet to the summit were so easy
in comparison that they can be dismissed with
brief mention. We were now on a broad highway several yards wide,
overgrown with vegetation and bearing some quite tall eucalyptus, up one
of which we climbed to the next level.
There were a few more craggy ledges to crawl round, and the dry course of
a waterfall to climb up, polished
to a black smoothness, but not so slippery as
it looked, being honeycombed with innumerable
small pit marks.
We were making for that wide split in the
mountain side which gives the rock its name. This was soon reached, and
gazing through it, what a sight met our
eager eyes! A huge, hollow crater, luxuriously carpeted with thick green
grass, knee deep in which one lone silver-barked
tree stood like a guardian sentinel. Rising till
they lost themselves in the blue
heaven, were a dozen or so magnificent,
rugged peaks whose heaped, stratified grandeur made one think that so the
Earth's surface must have appeared to the eyes of our prehistoric
forebears. To think that we were, without
doubt, the first people to set foot in that place which had lain
undisturbed for so many millions of years in ageless silence under the hot
summer sun, or reverberating to
the hollow crash and roar of thunder pealing
through its vaults! We felt we had obtained a
glimpse of some far away,
dimly-remembered period in the days when
the world was young.
Flowing round the bases of these jagged peaks
swept a glacier-like river of miniature tree
ferns, which extended in thick, glossy green
formation for some 800 feet right from the summit as
far down as the
entrance to the cleft. This solved our problem as to how we
were to reach the top. Although the glacier
fell almost vertically in places,
it was quite a simple matter to
climb up it, holding on
to the ferns.
While resting by a. tumbled avalanche of the
sharp, igneous rock, I found, growing in a thimbleful of earth, a cluster
of delicately-marked toadstools—such dainty, pretty, fairy things; they
seemed too little to be left alone in that vast, forbidding, prehistoric
crater. I would tell Pan about them and he
would come up in the morning and look after them, and then they wouldn't
feel lonely or frightened any more. Pan spoke their language and
understood them, as he understood what the birds
said. It was he who heard the music of
the night, and saw the little fairy folk among the trees in the moonlight,
peeping curiously from the dusky shadows at the red glow of our camp fire.
They might have come
over to talk to us if we had asked them, but they
are very shy and don't come unless they
are asked.
Here conies the Doc., and off we go again
on our upward climb.
Our excitement increased as we approached the
top, and at length we
skipped out into the bright sunlight and knew
we had achieved our goal.
We stood on a narrow, grass-grown
rim, rough with
piled rocks, among which grew
a few small bushes.
Buzzing around these were a number of golden wasps with glittering
wings. "You're high up in the world, little
ones."
Sitting on a heap of rocks, munching
chocolate and dates, we felt like knights of old
surveying our wide domain from the turrets and battlements
of our castle. Extending
to the far horizon in
all directions stretched a wrinkled
sea of green. Far
away a bluer line marked the beginning
of the Pilliga scrub of
the far west. Close about us the varied peaks of
the Warrumbungle Range displayed their
bizarre, distinctive shapes, and overhead was
a sky as brightly blue as the shallows of the sea
on a blue day. Floating on this, fairy
islands of cloud lay over the plains in ever increasing circles; but the
eagles which, earlier in the day,
had watched our laborious efforts to reach
the heights to which they soared so
effortlessly, were nowhere to be seen.
The Doc. had a box of matches in his
pocket, which gave us the inspiration to light a
fire in the hope that the folk in the
township of Tooraweena, some ten miles away would
see it and rejoice with
us, and also to
set the minds of the
others of our party at rest,
for none of them knew how we
had progressed since we
had left Pan, hours ago, with the 100 foot
rope, to see himself down
to our base camp as best
he could.
So we set fire to a
heaped pile of dry grass
and sticks, and threw
on green branches from the near-by
bushes, which produced a dense white smoke,
making the mountain seem like a volcano
in eruption.
Leaving the fire to attend to itself,
we descended a small dip and climbed a point
of rock a yard or so
higher than the one we were on. Here we
erected a cairn of stones, for all true mountaineers thus leave their mark
on virgin peaks conquered. Some five minutes later, when we turned
our attention to the fire once more, we found it had
assumed much larger proportions—in fact it
had spread to such an extent that we were now cut off by the flames and
had to perch, marooned, on top of our cairn till the blaze died down. Even
then it was necessary to wait some time longer for the heat to leave the
ashes, as I didn't know how invulnerable the hide on my bare feet (I
always climb bare-footed) might be to red-hot embers. It would have looked
funny to the gods who watch over the doings of man if the Doc. had had to
piggyback me over the glowing embers and smoke along that narrow rim of
mountain top; but luckily it wasn't necessary.
The sun was now westering, so we made haste to descend, as we didn't quite
know how or where we were going to get down. I own I felt a bit uneasy as
I thought of those traverses, now in the cold shade, with nothing at all
to recommend them and everything to condemn them. We slid down the green
glacier as down a slippery dip, and gained much amusement thereby. The
Doc. slid on his seat and I went head first, as my pants, already in the
flnal stages of disintegration, would not have stood up to any harsh
treatment.
On reaching the waterfall again,
we turned our attention
to the south instead of the north, and
hoped for the best. It
proved to be an excellent move, and we
soon found ourselves on a ledge overlooking a
drop of a mere 200 feet to the hillside
below, only 100
of which was difficult climbing. We already
had 100 feet of rope, and
if we could get the
other 100 it would be a simple matter
to descend. So we hollered for Pan
and eventually got a
reply. He brought along the 100
foot rope and climbed up
as far as he could with
it, while I climbed down as far as
I could on our rope. Holding
on to the end of this,
I stuck my leg out while Pan did the cowboy
stunt and eventually succeeded in
lassoing my foot. I then climbed back
with this rope, and by means of
the two of them, we descended once more to
terra firma, after six hours on
the mountain.
We left the ropes tied there, and next day
Pan and I
brought Suzanne and Marie up that way.
It seemed a very easy performance
to me after those awful traverses, but Marie
informs me that according
to New Zealand and Canadian mountaineering
standards, it would not be considered an easy
rock-climb by any means,
even with the fixed ropes.
Well, there you are folks; thus ends my tale!
As an incentive to prospective climbers of this
mountain, let me add that after we had
safely taken the party up and down
again on the following day—only
possible by means of the fixed ropes—we
flicked these from round the rocks that were
holding them, and as they fell at
our feet we saluted the
grim giant saying, gloatingly, "That's the
last time anyone will get up you ....
unless it's by aeroplane." Such is our
conceit. It's an open challenge! |