Limestone Corsairs
Like a pirate, but more legit, corsairs were like mercenaries of the briny deep, raiding merchant ships belonging to france’s enemies.
Corsairs from Auckland, come to raid and plunder the seas of Castle Hill, The Predator, Captain Inzane-o and Beast Kong (who is actually me), tripped down with purely piratical intentions. We camped at Craigieburn-off and were promptly repelled by the omnipresent sandflies, maggots in the cooking shelter, and eye-watering stench of the longdrop. Allied to the sandflies were one feisty Kea and a hungry possum who insisted on trying to engorge himself on our refuse, which we thought cunningly kept aloft in a tree. No dice there, as at two in the morning I was out in the rain hurling rocks and obscenities into the tree in a vague attempt at forcing the beasty to see reason. Unreasonably, I was irrationally paranoid it would fling itself at me in a rage of luxurious fur and plague-laced claws. Still, for all the shenanigans, we three merry pirates enjoyed ten days (five for Captain Inzane-o) flailing ourselves on world-class limestone.
For starters, it was skin boilingly hot. My face is paying the price of ten days of merry abandon, but I still think it was worth it…The past few years I have focused my efforts on Flock Hill, seeing CH as more of a place to spend begrudging rest days, bemoaning the terrible state of Beautiful Edges, but this time as Flock was closed while ancient Hindu monks trained the little lambies to become assassins, I had to re-shift my attentions back to the place where it all began. CH is inarguably the best bouldering destination in the entire Canterbury area, and in 2006 I spent nearly every day for nearly a year out there bouldering, so this trip it was nice, in a nostalgic kind of way to revisit that era, and say hello to some old friends.
We all got to say hello to some new ones as well. Captain Inzane-o made it his mission to thrash his elbows on many mantely testpieces, as well as scare himself on many a polished-to-mirror-finish slab, including a padless ascent of Bliss. He proved himself adept at much of the fiddly foot-faggotry needed to climb such lines. The Predator too got to grips with a few burly mantles, as well as some higher problems, testing her resolve for doing moves off the deck. She walked away with some ridiculous number of sends, in the order of about 300,000, and made lightening fast progress on the burly moves of Dominatrix. Unfortunately this as well as her other projects Phoenix and Learning Curve thwarted her gallant efforts. But we all know the best part about falling off something is the joy of having the opportunity to experience their loveliness all over again!
I also had my sights set on a few specific lines, and attacked them with gusty gusto. For the first half of the trip I was left to my own devices at the Hill while the other two went off gallivanting around the countryside at the Climbing Congress held at Canterbury University. I nosily inspected all the unsent projects I could find, had a go at most, and fell off all. Credit due to the Hill, it’s a staunch place to climb. The polish makes for some frustrating work at times, but by the end of the trip I found myself falling for the place all over again. Fat of the Land was one project left unsent from the previous trip, and now ranks as one of the coolest problems of its kind I’ve had the pleasure of doing. Also on the send list was the obscure Inertia, a pocket traverse with two burly moves on a tier at the back of Spittle. Not much traffic on this one, meaning all the holds and footers still had their texture. Also obscure was At the Controls, a problem that had rebuffed even my most earnest attentions on a few previous trips. A little stronger now, it went down in a few goes, as did Everything’s Gone Green, much to my surprise. The broken jug hasn’t effected the line at all, but not having the beta, I was unsure about how to proceed for the first day. Three possibilities for sequences seemed equally implausible, but on the second day I minced down on that one RH two-digit crimper/pock and sent the problem, almost fumbling the last move out of pure shock.
The top position on my list was held by House of Pain; another CH problem that at first look seems totally improbable, and stupendously hard for the grade. Again a bit of pocket training helped for this one, but my over-enthusiasm was to be my downfall during the first few days of attempts. It wasn’t until we were nearing the end of the trip that I actually taped a brush to a stick and scrubbed the second to last pocket, which thwarted me go after go with it’s smug dirtiness. I restricted myself to a few goes a day as the LH dish, supporting only one and a half fingers, was forcing all the blood to the ends of my pads, threatening to burst them like overfilled water balloons. A war of attrition this one, and it went down with relatively little fuss. Limited days prevented me from nutting out the beta for Morse Code, the line to the far right of the same boulder. I managed the initial stab to the mono, and even the long pull to the slopey dishes above, but that was as far as I got. Further cleaning required, as it hasn’t seen a second ascent since its FA in 2007. Many of these seldom tried problems are reverting slowly back to their original unclimbed state, which isn’t exactly a bad thing…Lastly was Numb, a problem in Spittle that was still awaiting a proper start. History is hazy at best with this one. I tried it back in 07, pulling on and doing the one huge move from a pocket, but unable to pull on from the lower holds. According to literature, it hadn’t been done from the ground, so, after finding the holds I gave it a stab (literally, as the move was too dynamic to get anything other than one finger in the pocket) and came away with the send. Grade is up for debate; could be one thing, could be another, but it’s very cool, short, and powerful.
Of the unsent lines I tried, the one that got me most phsyked was the Bio-hazard direct prow project. This, again, turned the other cheek on all previous attempts, but this time I managed to make some progress. All the holds are sharp, but after getting the first move sorted, I could consistently throw from a bad crimp and a bad pocket and latch the far left arete. Not enough to stick, but it’s definitely within the realms of possibility, but what to do from there is a different story. Some kind of heel-hook trickery and a blind dyno for a jug might be involved.
I also had a play on a ridiculous dyno not ten meters down hill from Boone’s Dyno. From a good jug, with a broken foot and a smear, throw miles away over a bulge to a bad two finger dish, high step and rock over. After a few dozen flails, I was hitting everywhere but the hold (including a good two inches above it on one try), and the few times I actually sunk fingers into the pocket but didn’t have the handspeed to engage. More recruitment is required, and as ever, cleaning. As did the Run-and-Jump project, but rain hampered my efforts quickly on that one. Ristretto just looked too heinous to contemplate, Infinite Jest too bunched, Minnesota Fats too scary, and Cold Fusion cut my shoe in half.
The regeneration in the restricted areas is coming along nicely, and it got us thinking what similar efforts could be used in preserving the quality of the climbing. Would anyone really be averse, really, about putting a little fence around Beautiful Edges along with a polite sign requesting people to stay clear of the rock for a predetermined period ( I don’t know, say five years?), so that it has a chance to grow its skin back?? Could we not simply do a revolving partition around certain problems, or is that outside the realms of practical? Most locals know to stay off the really bad stuff, but the same cannot be said for the hordes of enthusiastic international visitors, many of whom have the ‘I don’t care, it’s my last day’ mentality, even though it’s not even their last by a long way. Stuff breaks off all rock types because its not, as the saying goes, ‘set in stone’. It’s time to stop trying something and walk away for a few years when you can pop a pimple in the reflection of a foothold…
Regardless of the current state of CH, ten days with one rest day and I was still feeling motivated, but alas any trip, no matter how long, is too short. And all to soon the Predator and I were flying back over the Morannon toward the baleful watchfires of rockless Auckland. Our projects list customarily grew five times bigger, and even after packing up a wet tent on a very wet and wintry December Wednesday, we left with thoughts of returning as soon as our broke-ass-gypsy funds would allow.
Stu, can you be a corsair & a local at the same time? Also, for what it is worth, there is no doubt Seb did Numb “from the ground”. I was there. He was definitely stand on the ground when he started.
Corsairs were local. Privateers but not actually official members of the French navy. I believe. My research methods are woeful to say the least.
Also thanks for the Numb heads up. I did not know the history. In all fairness, Seb can top a boulder out standing on the ground through the whole thing anyway, so that news is not surprising
sounds like an awesome trip, fantastic writing as always
Cheers boss!
good shit on fat of the land perhaps more than even the other problems on that list. that thing is the boss of … um … high-ball-pocket-slab-mantles (is that a legit type of climb?) jah bless.
Agreed. FOTL was by far my most proudest send of the trip. Love that thing.