Hang Dog

Hang Dog is the local gym where, in the Illawarra, if it is too hot for the beach, you can go for a climb. That is mostly the climbing we have done lately; climbing on plastic walls.

Lots of kids parties go there, and sports groups for the school kids, and sometimes corporate groups. There are 100 climbs, and bouldering too, and if you just want to sit and watch the guys will make you a coffee. The routesetters aren't at all bad, and there is enough to keep us entertained without having to venture to Sydney gyms too often.

Sculptures by the sea

It was so special to see Bondi come alive with art. The piano we couldn't find, but only heard until we turned around and saw a sculpture, or was it a painting? Then a cheese grater, larger than life. Balancing acts on the foreshore; where pen meets pencil or pen meets pen and something like paper. A rusty camel with delicious insides of wine and food, and a purple man who had 2 of most things, two heads, hands, feet, eyes, noses, one too many.

Test tubes or icicles, who could tell; South Pacific inspired metal leaves and laughing men. Folly of papier mache.

It was a fine summers day and it always amazes me the time and love that is devoted to each work.

My favourite: footsteps on the beach and footstep in sandstone. Why? Who knows.

Horseshoe bend baby climbs

August was time for Nic's 30th birthday, and we decided to celebrate with a weekend away. We rented a farm house called the Horseshoe Bend farm, way out west and beckoned the adventurous. With 3 causeways to drive through to arrive at the property, we sat tight and waited hopefully... were we to be the only ones to brave the 4 hour journey? But minutes behind were Sarah Pete and Jack, roaring up in the 4WD... they had come the "other way" and had driven through a roaring creek. We weren't aware of another way, and became quite concerned that our other visitors with their little cars and little babies would be waiting on the other side. Luckily everyone arrived despite my unfortunate map and no one was wet!

With 4 babies in the house, now we really understand the pain of early mornings, halfslept nights and lethargic days, but, to our delight we also discovered that babies give you the perfect climbing training workout. Pop them in a backpack and off you go, wait another month and their weight increases, just when you need to increase your training weight... perhaps this is what we need for our next trip?! And I can't help but admire their perfect yogic posture and hanumanasa - monkey pose - the splitz that would definately come in handy with some climbing moves. Needless to say, babies have an innate compulsion to climb in, over, and up things, and Lucy and Miro couldn't get enough of the kitchen cupboards as I went into a cake making frenzy. We did some mini hill climbing, up the "Big Hill" and some mini adventures into the creek to recover lost number plates. Nic's party evening came alive with the premier screening of the movie production "Riddm" (in essence, part I of our adventures) and some fun competitions in Singstar with Jade's memorable rapping style and the glorious tones... or monotones of us all.

Frog Buttress and a Bit of Bling

Mount French for Froggy to get back into climbing; it seemed so apt. It was our first climbing trip after 8 months off... 3 months in a back brace, 3 months at yoga and the other 2 spent getting back into it at the climbing gym. Of course I had no reason for the time off; was it guilt? ... more likely a lack of climbing partners; partners who had gone and wrecked their shoulders, or had babies, or both. Froggy and I had given ourselves a two week holiday, two weeks to spend in warmer climbs, on warm rock up north. We did the big 13 hour drive up via the inland route to Mount French, but Frog Buttress is unforgiving. We were a little too ambitious perhaps; with our muscles raw and learning to reform. The spindle cells growing with each pull on our arms, our thighs expanding with each push on our legs. But growing takes time, and needs rest. After exhausting the easy climbs in three days, we paused. Where to go from here? Frog was desserted – uni students not yet on holiday and only the odd American tourist wandering around. We craved some committed climbers, but less committing climbing. Glasshouse Mountains looked nice; Brisbane had some urban climbs; but who cares? We were less than enthused... Perhaps we had been spoilt with all our travels? But where had our mojo gone? .. yes, we could see it now, left at home in our own backyard. How to best get back into climbing?... do familiar climbs, fun climbs, easy climbs, bolted climbs, an hour away from home at Nowra. What were we thinking!?

So we drove the 13 hours back south via the coast, stopping briefly at old hippy towns long gone commercial, with boutiques that look interesting from the outside, with the same names and the same clothes on the inside. Our original locals were talking in money dialect... “you see, the quicker I can paint these dots the more I paint, the cheaper the price is, the more I can sell” and we were bored. So we drove on, glancing occassionally at things big, big half avocado, big prawn with googly eyes, big banana, and wondered why they now looked so small. Perhaps we still had America on our minds, or I was smaller when I had seen them last.

Back home, we refresh, pick up our Nowra guidebook, and then head straight out to camp at the water “ski park” at Nowra. We have the most glorious days; the sun is shining, we canoe across the river to find crisp rock, there is no need for chalk. We are face climbing again, but we start from scratch, climbing grade 11 on bolts. It is fun, comfortable, confidence building and I am happy again. The best climber after all is the one having the most fun we cry. And we can't help but have fun when climbs are called names like “hide the salami” and “pale yellow underwear??!!” Then “those” moments start to arise. The moments, when nothing else matters, nothing but me and the rock. There is nothing but my breath which echoes the gentle wind, and the rock; a crimper here and a side pull there, traverse to another bolt, then into a cave; climb out of the cave... I am engrossed. And at the top, the view is beautiful.

From Nowra, Point Perpendicular is only an hour away. But we make it a leasurely day, with a long breakfast so when we arrive it is almost lunch. And then we discover that Point Perp, near Jervis Bay is actually federal land... owned by the ACT. Does this mean we can smoke stuff? Lucky they are not practising with bombs this afternoon, so we cruise down the dirt track peacefully enough... we are high, but only with adrenelin.

It is a windy day and on the edge of the sea cliffs I feel nervous. We have to be careful today I tell Nic. I have a strange feeling... that feeling something could happen, lets just be extra careful. He laughs and we go for a walk along the edge of the cliffs to look out over Honeymoon Bay. I'm not sure I want to climb today, maybe one or two now we are here I guess. Ooo.. there is where we had our first kiss...

On the sea cliffs Nic takes out the rope and starts the throw it over the edge, as I shelter from the wind. Are you sure you want to climb I ask? Isn't it just a bit too windy!? He keeps trying to throw the rope over the edge and it blows straight back onto the rock in a big knot, twice. I laugh at him. Sometimes he seems too keen to climb I think....

But once we abseil down – only to climb back up again – I appreciate every moment. This place is awesome with the ocean crashing on the rocks below, whales and dolphins surfing behind us, ah to be here, and nowhere else. But it is cold...I am a fair weather climber now... this will be my only climb for the day. Then, as I make that last move to the top of the climb there is Nic, carabiner in hand, “Would you like to spend more time with me” he asks. Huh? And I look closer at the caribiner? A ring? “would you like to spend more time with me” he asks again. Aha...

“No, no,” .... “Would you like to ....”

“no,... no”.... I mean “yes, yes!” Is that... an engagement ring? “yes!” ah “YES!”