New Vertical Ramblings

Guidebooks are useful: they show you where not to climb :)

Have you ever tried to go for a walk in the fynbos with a Botanist? Not with your mate Fred, who (on a good day), can distinguish blackjacks from palm trees. I mean the bona fide, scientific-name-sprouting floral enthusiast. Crawl would be a better word.

Almost at the end of the fight on Matador (25), TM. 

Pic: Jono Joseph

Every few steps their nose will disappear into the undergrowth, accompanied by pointing and shrieking. This is usually aimed at some particular planty thing that, to the rest of us, would seem to blend in with all the other planty things, like a pink boa at the Pride parade or a bicycle at the naked bike ride.

Douw Steyn doing the Bokkeveld Boogie (22).

Most of my walks in the fynbos are somewhat speedier, and serve the express purpose of getting myself and an exploding bag of gear to the base of a crag. However, like the keen botanist, I also have a disease than means you can’t see the forest for the trees. Specifically, you can’t see the cliff for all the potential routes. If you can’t see at all, then check your hat hasn’t slipped down over your eyes. The wilderness is no place for gangster fashion.

So while the approach walk may be swift, when the details of the rock feature come into view I can slow to a veritable toddle. Squinting, gesticulating and making wild suggestions about what looks like the next best line since Astroman is all par for the course. Fortunately, I don’t climb with any truly obsessive botanists, otherwise we would get very little done indeed.
So what is this article all about? First ascents, more or less.

Moonflakes project – IP.

Pic: Jono Joseph

New routing can actually be a fair bit of work, so why would one bother? So you can live out your childhood Star Trek Fantasy to boldly (sometimes) go where no man (woman or hermaphrodite) has gone before? The allure of the unknown? An outlet for creativity, exploration, discovery and challenge? Contributing to the sport?
Meh. Over-rated.

Here are my reasons:

1. Money.
I found 5 bucks on a path the other day. Just holding out for the big time – maybe a tenner stuck in a Protea bush. I can feel I am close. Just gotta keep my eyes peeled.
2. Chicks.
You won’t believe how many hysterical girls have shouted to me from the cable car on TM. Yeah, I regularly get the “O.M.G!” while I still got my shirt on.
Recently an Aussie lass was so amazed all she could yell was “Oi, check that bloke – KEEN!”. True story.

The Usual Suspects: Uwe et moi at Tafelberg (aka best crag in the Universe).

3. Drugs.
Since I started doing FA’s, I have definitely done more Arthroguard and Panado. My local dealer (Clicks in Green Point) sometimes gives me a good deal.
4. Fame.
My Mom’s friend in the U.K. knows about what I do. That’s not even the same continent. International baby!
5. Sandbagging.
Oh come on, who can resist?
6. Parties.
Often, after another totally awesome, 17- star new route, I’ll have a few beers with some mates, talk about climbing stuff and sometimes the waiter will ask for my autograph. Usually we party hard all night, sometimes even past midnight.

Maybe I am getting old. Well, actually that’s not a maybe.
Anyway, without sounding like a jaded old bag of gas, I think there is a natural progression in climbing that leads to wanting to find and do new routes. When you start out, it’s all novel and exciting. Local crags are full of new treats, shiny gear and hopefully girls to impress with your freshly acquired jargon. Don’t get me wrong, I can still have a great day out with mates at ye olde local crag, but the urge to go and explore uncharted territory normally wins.

Its like a big treasure hunt, and you don’t have to be a pirate to appreciate that.
Not that I have anything Arrrrgainst them. However pet parrots are only welcome at crags if they find booty, or keep the starlings at bay. Native parrots are of course an exception.

Note: If Polly tries to get it on with a local bird, he either he misunderstood the rule about finding booty or you have a very startled starling. Regardless, he probably deserves a cracker. Granted, this is about as likely as a having a rodeo where all riders wield a Bazooka. Welding them would be even more impressive. Anyway, see below:

Joe going horizontal on the FA of Bazooka Rodeo (25). 

Definitely not a sandbag. 

Trust me. Bring your big guns just in case...

However, its not all glory, loot and babes with big bazookas. I feel I must be honest. On the odd occasion when we don’t find a masterpiece for the front cover of Bumbling Magazine or SA Hill, a rare, minor blemish may occur on the record, something like this:

Jayson Orton having an Eye for Trouble (19) – at a crag very far away.

Le Botch.
(no where near France)
In an age gone by (sometime last year), a friend sent me a portrait (electronically sketched from far away) via carrier e-pigeon of a cliff he had spied. This was destined to be the “next big thing in the Western Cape”. We organised four days leave and an ox-wagon worth of gear.
We had enough to fit out an expedition to Baffin Island I dare say. I must confess that some of the aid gear I could not even name. The sun had long set when we pulled into the farmer’s property.
By dim headlamp and cheap wine we devised an elaborate strategy including phrases like: “base camp”, “fixing static”, “initial carry” and “grand central line”.
Or was the el cheapo vino on another trip? – all a bit hazzy.

At third (or maybe fourth) light, we started up the main kloof and I enquired to location of said mega cliff. “Its around the corner”. Some trudging later, a cliff does indeed come into view, high up at the top of a subsidiary kloof. “It doesn’t look as big as in the sketch does it?” I noted. ” Blah, blah don’t’ worry it will be awesome, check those cracks out!! blah blah. et Blah”. We soldiered on through dense bush, experiencing a frustrating optical event. The closer we struggled toward the cliff, the smaller it seemed to shrink. Like something out of Alice in Wonderland – just without the grinning cat and stoned caterpillar. Although there could be an argument made about there being two mad hatters.

Getting ready for action on the FA of Big Green Coconuts (23). 

Pic: Douw Steyn.

Sweaty, covered in bushy debris and a tad deflated, we arrive and study the clifflet.

Observation 1: Its size is about an order of magnitude less than expected.

Observation 2: Rock resembles an elderly prostitute*: loose, frail and unappealing.

Observation 3: Instigator of the mission has suffered a sense of humour failure.

Observation 4: In the next valley, in the distance, there looked like a wall that may have some potential….

Once you have the disease, every cliff becomes a canvas and plotting ground. Infected individuals can’t walk past a rock face without fully sussing it out, gesticulating wildly and often taking a photo**. There is no cure, thankfully!*

Lots of work before this one goes free. 

After 5 days effort I can report that I can do half the crux move. 

Pic: Jono Joseph

* – I am taking a flyer at this, no personal experience.
** – Beware: as per Le Botch photos can be misleading, but may provide unexpected adventures.
*** – As I have recently discovered, tearing the meniscus in your knee is a temporary cure.
But that’s another story…

Richard is sponsored by:
La Sportiva, DMM and Wild Country

Painted Desert

The Painted Desert - it's a place in Arizona. Blue sands harbouring dinosaur skeletons strewn like confetti, not a MacDonalds in sight. I saw it mentioned in a documentary on fossils (and other things paleontological) many moons ago before I got interested in girls and booze. I wanted to go immediately. The dream never faded despite the acknowledgement of beer and bikinis. For now it remains on the tick list, but if I haven't been within the next decade in may get bumped onto the bucket list. The idea of holding in ones hands the cast remains of something that was alive zillions of years ago is pretty darn incredible. Just think about. Go on, actually think about.

Take an ammonite (old school nautilus) for example. Sure you normally find them in museums, scuffed up on fleamarket stall benches or sliced and buffed up in hippie jewelery, but nonetheless the occupant of said now-stone shell was once cruising around in the sea while the inspiration for Jurassic park was stomping around pre-mammalian lands. Hectic! Equally incredible is how we can dig other stuff out the ground, get it 'Made in China' and use the product to watch images of events on the other side of the planet, in real time. Wow! The wonders of both nature and technology.

Back to the painted dessert. Best served after a fancy meal and over-priced wine at one of those trendy restaurants with complicated, arty menus that don't list Black Label. The font for the delicious, aromatic meal descriptions is also vastly superior to the diminutive font used to inform you how much your plastic will be zapped. Don't worry, the paint is lead free and tested on Norwegian roof rats, not cute bunny rabbits. No offence intended to any Scandinavian readers. Homonyms: can really ruin a blog can't they?

As I grew older, but not ancient (like our bird ancestors sleeping eternally in the colourful sands of Arizona), I became keen to climb on rocks, rather than scrutinize them for signs of life from another epoch. One of the best places to do this is Tafelberg.I have been fortunate to climb in places very far from home, and I can certainly say that some of the very best is in the Mothers cities back yard. If you allow a back yard to extend 250km North past the Boerewors curtain. Anyone who has been will certainly be familiar with the Pillar Box. For the rest of you, it is a remarkable 20m height brick that the builder of Tafelberg left standing upright on the edge of of the property when building the massif. Fortunately this architectural oversight is a blessing for climbers as it offer exceptional routes in a great setting.

Pillar box to the right. 

Pic: Joe Mohle

Opening a new line on the Pillar Box has, like visiting the colourful dinosaur cemeteries in Arizona, been on my to-do list for a while. However, the remaining real estate was rather blank, so initially I was lacking in both the strength and skill departments. I banked the idea and ate lank Pronutro. I even managed a campus board session about 4-5 times a year. Fortunately, clocking up hours at the crags seems to osmose some ability, cause I am still ever so slightly scant on the bicep front (sounds better than scrawny runt doesn't it?).

Left of the easy arete is a strangely straight meeting of orange and grey hues on the face - as if made so by brush. Perfect. Joe had also played on this line, but was happy for me to give it a bash. Shot boytjie. Out came the Shunt, across went the sun, emerge did the sequence. Out came the belayer, in went the tiny cam, and off came I - repeatedly. Down went the sun, in went the sun downers, the moon did the nightly glide. Thinner skin, waning patience, more air time, more cussing - more snacks. Wind stronger, arms weaker - last go for the day. Stuck the hold, skirted the banana peels, catching duty done - raindrops - last climb of the trip - perfect.

Painted Desert (26) - orange on the left, grey on the right, no excuses for being off route!

At least finding a name was easy. Now I just need a flight to the visit the namesake.

A big thanks to Brenna for being awesome, and for belaying.

Pic: Martin Kleynhans

Summer Dating

So it took longer than expected.
"No, there is just one more left then I am done" - yeah right. But now I mean it. Mostly.

Granite and sandstone, right in the city. Cape Town rocks.

I was living in Tamboerskloof and it was summer. For the first time ever I had a 'real' job. That meant I was another nine-to-fiver. Almost. I had this itch for opening new climbing routes. Lion's Head offered an opportunity to do this before and after work - hence the Summer Project idea was born. It was 2010.
Over a year later, I am pleased to report I have finished. Well except for that line done in the hidden spot, but that is nails hard so it will have to wait till I have had more Pronutro. I bought two large boxes the other day. I may even consider training. I digress.

Lion's Head has a few good things going for it. Access is quick and easy, it is often protected from the weather, good views, choice of sun or shade, drunk Norwegian exchange students at full moon. However one needs to be discerning. To call a garden tool a garden tool, there is a lot of crap, lichen plastered choss up there. Beware. Crystals on the granite snap, itchy vertical flora gets in your eyes and prime low-lifes throw bottles from the top. Classic Ying and Yan.


David Mercer must be commended for bringing out a guide book. It made it easy for me to see where the gaps were. Serious though, kudos - good work. After walking, scrambling and generally surveying almost the entire hill, I decided there were two areas worth putting effort into (i.e sanity breaks at silly hours of day and night on week days). And this is how it came that my alarm would go off at 4:30am, I would be walking up at 5am, swinging on a rope by 5:30am and generally having quite a blast before most people had opened the fridge to find they had run out of milk. Run down at 7:45, home, shower and get to work just on time (well, within one standard deviation).

Pride Breaker - after a failed courting attempt.

It was a bit like dating. First check out all the options, and pick the one that looks the best from far away. I learned it is best to do this in the flesh, not from looking at pictures someone else took. Get a little closer and see if your suspicions are correct. Sometimes you need to do a quick sidestep, or one near by would suddenly have more appeal. Choices. Invest a bit of time, getting a real good look from top to toe. Next, confident in your choice, get to know her better. Feel her up a bit, especially the jugs and other nice hand holds. At this stage (with your abseil rope as wingman) your commitment is low, and you can always bail without to much lose of face. Sooner or later though, you will have to make a call, and if it's a winner you need to grab your protection, get your equipment in there and go for the send. Very satisfying.

Unlike dating, a route won't clean itself, unfortunately. But you do get to decide on the name, and demonstrating your moves or describing what you did with your nuts isn't frowned upon, by other climbers at least.

Company on a solo scouting mission.

I was also experimenting in rope-soloing (no analogies here please), specifically how far one can push the boat out. The manufacturers warning clearly says you 'must NEVER fall while rope soloing'. Ooops. Out of control onto a flared cam nogal. At least it was a shiny new cam and not some manky booty - which I have my share of. What a rush!! I briefly pulled the boat back, and tied a back-up knot next time. So it was fitting that I sent the last route on my summer project list by rope-soloing it, placing all the gear, at sunset: Pride Breaker (25). Maybe its only 24, but who likes a sandbagger? On that note, bring tape and a knee pad.


In total, 16 new routes grade 15-26. Details on the ClimbZA wiki will soon be up to date. The ones on the granite are more for completion and 3 come with R-ratings. Ye olde sandstone ones however, offer good single pitch climbing and are some of the better routes on the hill, in my completely unbiased opinion :).


Happy cranking!


Now if I can just get a bit stronger, then maybe the Lightening project will go.