Tackling The Underworld
Enjoy the climbers' journey vicariously in their portfolio shown here
The Moai at the northern end of Fortesque Bay on the Tasman Peninsula
A pensive Phil Box displays his wounds after the rock, shown below, smashed into his back and nearly severed his harness
: : : DESTINATION
Tasmanian rock: II
One of my first climbs at Coles Bay was an attempt on a grade 24, 45-degree overhanging hand crack. I failed miserably trying to pull the lip on slopers, but I had fun hanging around getting my photograph taken hanging by all fours.
Our next destination was the Paradiso on the Tasman Peninsula. Some of the climbs started off from waveswept platforms, and we would have to gingerly step across to get established on a climb before the next swell and surf pounded in. There are some way steep, hard climbs busting up through the overhanging black, salt encrusted diorite. I scampered up a 21 and a 17 before being offered a chance to get caned on a steep 23.
The next day was the Friday after New Year’s Day. Lee and I spent another day out at the Paradiso.
Lee warmed up on the slabby 17, and I decided to repeat it wearing my sandshoes. Then it was my turn to lead, so Lee put me on something he considered to be near my limit, a steep overhung grade 21 sport route almost 30m long. I must confess that I struggled, but I did eventually gain the onsight. The black diorite was spalling in places with chips flying off here and there. The rock was also a little slimy, which was the result of much salt encrusting the facets of every feature.
Lee's desperate shouts alerted me enough so that I could twist so no hard bits of my body would get smashed …
The warning signs were there as Lee had to continually duck and weave these flying spalling chips — I should have been more aware of the danger signs. I thought that I was belaying sufficiently away from the fall line, but when Lee on lead displaced a rock with his foot after starting to crank hard through a crux, the inexorability of gravity took over and the ultimate meeting of rock and body was inevitable. Lee's desperate shouts alerted me enough so that I could twist so no hard bits of my body would get smashed.
The rock slammed into my ribs, breaking two or possibly three of them. As it hit me, I immediately became concerned about my kidney; later the doctor would dismiss that concern and alert me to the much more serious possibility of a spleen haemorrhage.
The rock appears to not have hit square on, and there is evidence in the scratches that it did indeed scrape across me in its tangential interrupted flight. On its way down across my body, the rock gave me one last whack on my hip bone, and that may have been cushioned somewhat by my harness.
The doctor who examined me later in Sorell was sympathetic and, luckily, familiar with climbing related injuries.
It took me a couple of hours to make my painful way back to the vehicle, but as it was a reasonably popular tourist track, I passed a few people and told them my story in the hope that if anything happened and I collapsed, they would find me on their way back. I was confident that nothing of the sort would happen, but it is nice to have sufficient back up plans. Of course, the sensible and responsible thing to would have been to take someone with me. The doctor who examined me later in Sorell was sympathetic and, luckily, familiar with climbing related injuries.
I spent an uncomfortable night in camp, and not wanting to be left behind, decided to try to make it out to the Moai, a standalone pillar of rock 25-30m high on the northern peninsula of Fortescue Bay. See it here.
I ambled 5km or so out to the rap chains that lead down to the rock shelf that the Moai stands on. I never even considered that I would be fit enough to rap in, so I did not even attempt the task. I set myself up at the top and took a bunch of pics and video of the guys and girls having fun. Then I sauntered back from whence I came, checking out some forest giants that had been blown down by recent Antarctic icy blasts and the ancient tree ferns. I listened to the birdsong, and gaped at the banksia flowers. I saw the bones of an old ship that had been scuttled in the bay to form a breakwater. I would highly recommend everyone slowing down once in a while — you would be surprised at what you can see along the way. ¶