NSW Nordic Ski Club
Birthing of the Nordic Rock Climbing Division
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The Arthur's -Federation Peak - "YES', I said.
Tasmania was beckoning for the second year in a row, this island of wondrous beauty, untamed wilderness, tumultuous weather and a peak to conquer.
What was I getting myself in for?
Our zealous leader in his quiet determined way said one day that we should perhaps prepare for this almighty peak. Being the ever determined female, I joined the others as we headed for the insidious cliff faces which entwine the Blue Mountains.
"Exposure is what we need to prepare for this trip", said Ian, our intrepid leader.
The first day found the three of us sharing my ski gear as the piercing winds howled up the face of the cliffs. But we were there to learn how to climb, not to think about the ever increasing goose-bumps or the uncontrollable shaking as we willed the sun to emerge from behind the thickening blanket of grey cloud.
'Don't lean into the rock, think about foot placement, stop and enjoy the view, perfect each movement". I watched our guide gracefully dance up the vertical face. His body was a depiction of a symphony of motion.
Easy, I thought, if he can do it, so can I.
Well, the orchestra wasn't playing quite the right music for me. Something strange was happening to my heart, it seemed to be emerging through my throat. My legs became an entity unto themselves, "tea-bagging" was mentioned a few times. Hugging a rock had a new meaning. I looked at the rope that was my life-line and for which I have a great respect. I prayed that whoever was on the other end had quick reflexes as I clawed my way up that rock face.
Victory is sweet
Somehow I managed that first climb and felt OK about sitting on half a cheek, perched on eagle territory, hoping that the minute ledge of sandstone wouldn't decide at that moment to part company with the face of the cliff.
On our second day, I recall our guide giving us a talk about the glue that held our brain together!
As the heavens opened and the cliff face glistened, I again clutched to the rock face and wondered what I was doing there. The glue was becoming a little weak. The magic shoes were somehow loosing their grip, but from somewhere in the depths of sanity, I pulled more courage and reached the summit. We had climbed what in the wet was classified as a grade 14-15 climb.
Chuffed to say the least.
Would I ever progress to anything harder? I wondered what a grade 32 must be like. I hesitantly asked our conductor how I went. "Perhaps a couple of days of tuition on technique" was the diplomatic reply.
If exposure is what we needed, then that is what we received. Grade 32 and Federation Peak here we come RAIN, HAIL or SHINE.
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