(header photographs by Harry Waite 1912-2011)

The Myth of the Sacred Brumby

 

 

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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 proportionsin 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 dayonly 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!