Sketches of Arapiles
Like the collection of small unfinished pieces you find tucked away in a back corner of an art exhibition, below are some sketches of Arapiles.
We’ve Arrived
We drive the loop around the Pines looking for somewhere to stay; there are no options for us in our big van. There are no big vans like ours, but plenty of other vans. There are caravans and camper trailers, befitting of it being the NSW school holidays, roof top tents, and lots of vans.
There is not a car parked here that has any chance of breaking down on the drive home. Such is the nature of climbers nowadays.
I don’t yet feel attached. I feel an outsider, not an outcast, but not part of the scene. I’m an observer, largely because I have arrived without a dedicated partner, and therefore have no surety of climbing,
Fishing for Partners
I’d joked with people before I left home that I was going to pimp myself around the Pines. I scan the notice board on the toilet block: Peter, in a white Landrover, is looking for a partner for the 20th and the 21st; I’ll look him up in the morning. I’m comfortable talking to strangers, less so climbing with them.
The problem, as I see it, with hooking up with someone off a post on a noticeboard, is it’s a bit like going fishing where you’ve already agreed to eat the fish before you catch it.
Everybody is Young
Everybody here is young.
They have no time for stories. They’re on the move, full of energy, ambition.
The stories will come later, maybe.
As I wander around there is engagement with me to the limit of acknowledgment, a form of respect, but they keep moving.
The rock of course has no respect, of that I will be reminded again soon.
Climbing Partners
Started talking to two climbers camped in the Lower Gums, Frankie & Emily, they’re on a three week climbing trip. Half way through the first week Frankie injured her hand pulling a move off a three finger pocket.
Looking for a partner – I see opportunity, and offer my services to Emily. We were like two shy kids in early high school, staring at the ground – do you want to go with me?
I’m On
“Neil, are you climbing with us today?”
The offer came in the form of a question as I’d wandered past their campsite. We hadn’t agreed anything yesterday, said we’d talk that night, which we hadn’t.
“Umm, maybe.”
Where were they going, what were they doing, do I care?
“We’re leaving in 20 minutes.”
I turn and run back to the van to get sorted.
The offer was from Frankie, to join her and Emily for the day – just doing some routes, nothing hard.
Word of Frankie’s hand injury had spread to a few people in camp, one of whom had suffered an injury with the same symptoms. He sought her out, discussed his recovery which had been based on treatment by a climbing physio, treatment that included, allowed for, permitted, active recovery – climbing.
They’ve climbed here a bit, Frankie and Emily, so they know the crags, the routes, the gullies. We do eight climbs with a mix of steep stuff, cracks, off-widths, corners, faces; a wonderful day being a non-paying client of two former guides.
Emily lowered off the last climb at 5pm, ready for more.
Beautiful People
I strike up a conversation with the man who is sleeping in the car parked in front of our van. In the morning I had started the engine of our van for a few moments, possibly annoying him so I wanted to apologise, sort of. He was fine with it, and had guessed, correctly, that we just needed an extra charge for a few moments.
Encouraged by me the conversation continued as he made his coffee, using an old Moka pot that had lost the ceramic button off the top to open the top lid, and with a portable gas burner that was flaring badly. He was eating his breakfast as we spoke – flat bread that he ripped a piece off and placed a scoop of peanut butter onto, then wrapped the piece of bread around it, each piece providing one or two mouthfuls.
His jacket had two logos; “8,000 Club” and 7 Summits Club. I couldn’t help myself, and asked if he’d climbed all 7; no he hadn’t, some yes, but not all. Would I like to climb them, he enquired seriously – “I can guide you”. He was a mountain guide, IFGMA, working today with one of the school groups camped nearby.
Ignoring the modern courtesy I inquired as to the origin of his heavy accent, “where are you from” – “Irania”, “hmm, it’s an interesting time to be from Iran”. “Yes, yes, there are troubles there now”.
“The people in Iran are beautiful, but the governance - - - crazy.”
I left him to his flat bread and coffee, conscious that he needed to be ready soon for work, and I was on a rest day.
Wimmera Wind
Nothing stops the wind that blows across the Wimmera. The land is flat, the roads straight, but when cycling on the Wimmera, the wind prevails.
Burly
Two climbers get back to camp after dark and slump into their chairs. Sometime later they are still there, slumped, no effort made to start preparing dinner. I wander over.
“How was the day?”
“Burly”; they reply as one.
“What’d you get on?”
“Overhanging jam cracks on the back of the Pharos; Judgement Day, 2nd pitch of Trojan, Braindrops”, says one.
“Burly!” says the other.
“Sorry Neil, we won’t be climbing tomorrow, we’ve had a big day.”
Disappointment mixes with relief; yesterday, with them, I’d done the equivalent of two days climbing in one, and was feeling it.
New Experiences
There’s always a school group in camp, sometimes two. Overheard as they mingled near the toilet block;
“You climbing tomorrow?”
“Yeah, we’re doing a multi-pitch, but I don’t know what that is.”
Tolerance
There are two families camped next to us, each with two children. The children are playing some sort of game that has our van as ‘bar’; remember that, ‘bar’, the spot where you can’t be touched, you’re safe, a bit like an embassy, except now our allies blow up embassies and we say nothing. Anyway, our van is ‘bar’, which means every now and then, there is a – thump, on the van. It is unsettling.
At first, we didn’t know we were ‘bar’, we just heard the thump as each kid raced to our van and hit it. It is unsettling.
Then we heard the kids giggling, and the running around, and understood what was happening, but we would’ve preferred they played somewhere else. What to do?
We could’ve wandered over to the parents, who I’d already struck up a conversation with earlier, and I could’ve asked them to ask their kids to play somewhere else, but that would’ve been totally contrary to the vibe in this campsite. Not an ‘anything goes’ culture, but a ‘be open to new ideas’ type vibe, a vibe of tolerance of difference, not a capital D diversity, but difference.
Our view, was the parents should’ve stepped in, and not relied upon our goodwill, and told their kids to play somewhere else; that’s what we would’ve done, have done, in the same situation. Thump. Unsettled. We left it unsaid.
Thump! Giggles outside. We tolerated it. Thump! Giggles outside.
I ruminated. This is what tolerance is – putting up with things you don’t like. You tolerate it. You don’t like it, you don’t agree, you don’t accept it – you tolerate it.
The next day – all smiles, and when they went into town, they picked up some supplies for us.
Ethical Eating
I’ve learnt that the two machines I’m climbing with run on a pure non-animal diet – vegans. A shame, because I’d wanted to make them a chai by way of thanks for the climbing, but it’s a chai latte. I’d discussed it with Emily;
“No milk huh”
“Nah”
“I suppose you wouldn’t have white sugar either” (that I add to my chai).
“Yeah, love sugar”
“I just thought you’d be too healthy for sugar”
“I’m not vegan to be healthy, I’m vegan because I have ethics.”
