Climb: Bastion Buttress - Grade 13 240m (should be a walk in the park - just a long one)
Climbers: Barry and Patty; Andrew and Stu.

We left the campsite a bit late at 7.30, but were convinced that it shouldn't take more than 4-5 hours. Arriving at the base at 9am after a walk in over scree in sandals (already I had sore feet). The Newcastle Rock-climbing club were already on the direct start. We started about 30m right of them which is the original start. Andrew, began the lead and got stuck. No pro.

Barry decided to lead up next to Andrew, but soon diverted further to the right, finding good pro, and eventually "hey, guess what I've found, a piton!". Stance 1. Andrew, decided to abort the unyielding line he had taken, and traversed across to Barry and his piton.

I began to second up. Not piss easy, but probably 13, and just my fear making it harder. Grovelled around a tree, wove through Andrew's rope which had crossed over us, and there I was, on the first "stance" (cowering awkwardly on sloping ledges' is a stance?").

We hung there, all of 25m up. Stu followed up Andrew's line and Barry started pitch 2. But Stu, had been suffering with flu and was not climbing as his usual self, so Barry waited a couple of metres above us. Stu arrived to inform us he was bailing out. Should I go with him? (oh for some hindsight!!) We organised for him to rap off. Substantial time had been lost, and we were only starting pitch two. I was wracked by indecision. Fear gripped me, I was uncomfortable. The ground looked so accessible. I knew this was my chance to go. The top was further away than I cared to contemplate. I should go. But why? Barry and Andrew both said they thought I should do it. Stu rapped off and I told him to wait. Then I told him to go. Such indecision. Major commitment problems!!

The abseil rope was removed. Barry climbed on and hit a dead end. He backed down a bit and traversed left instead. However, he'd left a cam that I, as second, would have to retrieve from an awkward and precarious position going above the next piece of pro. It was decided Andrew would second this pitch and I would go third and then we'd resume my preferred position between them. So I untied the rope connecting me to Barry for Andrew to tie in, but next thing I knew there was a tink as one of the nuts Barry had placed with quick draw attached dropped past us. It had been flicked out by the end of the rope which Barry was taking in. Shit there goes the end, with neither of us attached to it. First bit of gear lost too.

Andrew was kind to me, and lead up without chastising me for not tying the rope on to something before I untied from my harness. I was sheepish enough! And jibbering with fear. Oh why, oh why didn't I follow Stu?? Now I had to do it to clean the pitch!

Unfortunately, Andrew was unable to retrieve or clip the cam Barry had placed off route. I came up, not realising the cam was still there. This pitch, along with the first pitch according to the guide was the crux. It was classic grade 13 moves with nice finger ledges, and mildly technical moves. Despite being scared witless at what I was undertaking, I was enjoying it. Also, it should be easier from here .

Another horrible stance. Barry did not want to leave the cam, so with some very hairy moves (and I began to jibber again) he retrieved it, coming back with the comment; "Well that sure gets the adrenaline going doesn't it!".

The next pitch was another short traverse left to try and get us back on the route. A marginally better stance. I went second, and Andrew back belayed me so I wouldn't swing so far if I slipped. However rope drag was a problem, and I ended up having to traverse back and unclip the back rope so I could pull the rope through. However, at this point I was gaining confidence.

Surely it gets easier now? We looked at the Sun. 1230 maybe. None of us had a watch. But we knew we'd wasted a hell of a lot of time and had only really done what amounted to the first two pitches which we'd spun out to three. The large outcrop of rock we'd slung for the stance had tell tale old slings where others had backed off. We were still only about 50m up. Just 190 more to go! We contemplated retreating. I jibbered some more with indecision. This was my last chance. I wanted to stop, but I didn't want to wreck their day, and they weren't prepared to see me try and find my way home alone (they'd observed my inept bush navigation!). "Okay", I said weakly. A strong Southerly wind which had come up just as we started knocked us about on our stance. I settled into a hanging belay as Barry lead on, put my hands over my face, and shook. Andrew later described me as catatonic. Was I that bad? Probably!

I seconded up pitch 4. Barry had put some "interesting moves into this pitch". An overhang??? What am I doing on an overhang in a grade 13?? WHEN DOES IT GET EASIER??? This is not bloody 13!. Barry was surprised by my disgust, he thought he'd made a really good and interesting pitch! Thankfully he'd found a three seater settee for this stance. Shoes carefully removed after tying to harness (mustn't drop shoes now!! Or I'll be climbing this in sandals!). Andrew's face as he came into view confirmed to Barry that neither of us were impressed with his interesting moves. Stuff interesting, we just wanted to get to the top. Barry thought it would only take about another hour or so. The deluded optimist! The Sun marched Westwards.

Pitch 5. Lead by Andrew? Still not easier. The Sun continued towards the West.

Pitch 6. We were definitely off route again. Barry went leftwards. Surely it will be easier if we could just find the route?? He found a great stance, three Jason recliner rockers. The wind calmed, but Andrew and I were watching the declining Sun, and a small patch of cloud. We asked Barry to look out for retreat options. Barry reassuringly said "Guys, we've got plenty of time, at least 2.5 hours of sunlight, and it'll be easier from here". Thunderstorms were forecast. We hoped they were wrong. "Let's climb quickly guys, or we'll be spending the night up here".

Pitch 7 (6,8, it's a bit of a blur). Andrew lead again. A very high exposed pitch up an arete. He found a great stance. Positively a double bed (on an angle!) Complete with a nearby bolt!!. Bizarrely out of place, but indicating we were not, at least, pioneers. (Yes Barry it was really there, a silver carrot, nowhere particularly useful).

I seconded, and got a nasty scare when my handhold broke off.

Divertissement: Rock quality was surprisingly poor. Hand holds and foot holds moving. Trying desperately to find solid rock. Everything needed testing. Aware that at any point the boulder I had committed my weight to might move, or worse yet slide off into my lap, break me, my ropes, sending me down and down 1-200m. Life over, when I've only just begun to truly live it. Several times I had moaned that today I was well and truly out of my depth. It wasn't about grade, it was about wind, exposure, fading daylight, threatening thunderstorms, falling rock and FEAR. Any of which could go wrong and spell disaster. At some point (pitch 5ish maybe) we heard the word "ROCK", way over to our left, and saw a boulder, maybe the size of a portable TV flying through the air and then impact, with a loud explosive crack, shattering over a 50m radius 150m or so below us. Barry said "I've never seen anything like that before". I was silent. Andrew came up, "Did you see that rock???" Yes, we saw it.

Pitch 9:The Traverse From Hell; Barry decided we needed to go left. He climbed up and out of sight. The rope didn't move for a long time. Andrew and I sat there in the fading light. We hoped this would be the last pitch. Climb quickly Barry. The rope fed through. Then Barry's voice. "..I just did the traverse from hell!!!". Oh god, just what we didn't want to hear. No one likes traversing. This didn't bear well. Barry anchored as rope drag prevented him from carrying on. I climbed up and around the corner and there it was, the TRAVERSE FROM HELL. A one foot wide ledge about 4m long under a slight overhang, with an ridge of rock to shimmy around in the middle on which looked like one fairly decent undercling. Andrew was back belaying me, but it was obvious that rope drag from the back belay would prevent me from doing the moves. So I pulled through 5 or 6 metres of rope, no more back belay. But maybe some quirky psychological edge (???). Then I did something like stepped across, grabbed the reasonable chest height undercling, and swung over, I needed one more hand hold to swing around the ridge, it wasn't there. "Patty, you can't always have those three points of contact" these are the words of my friend John, the origin of my climbing. I don't think I thought these words, but somehow they were there. I looked at the rope, and perhaps fancied it was about 30 degrees more vertical than it was, and I did a fairly dynamic swing around to hop onto the ledge at the other side and hope to hell I didn't topple off. I didn't. Barry duly took in and congratulated me. I was pleased I'd kept my cool. I shouted to Andrew "It's not that bad" I guess I wanted to make him less scared, as the way the light was, he'd be doing it by moonlight. But it was bad enough!

Andrew followed through, with a headlamp. Far more difficult that. I'll let each person relate their own account of The Traverse From Hell. What was that move, grade 16, 17, 18? How high were we? Over 200m at least? And exposed as hell. We could see the top. Barry donned the headlamp (we only had 2), and led the last and FINALLY EASY pitch (maybe grade 8) in the darkness, not really knowing what it would be like. He later told us he was quite scared, but we'd never have known. I followed, and Andrew did it by moonlight. Around this time Andrew's wife Bindi and friend Andrew had come out in search of us, in the calm of the evening we saw their headlamps flash, we flashed ours. They could see we were at the top, and we heard their voices and shouted "WE'RE OKAY". They later said we sounded in good spirits. Well, that was because it was after The Traverse From Hell.

One more scramble, which both the guys soloed and big whoose bag me did on rope and we were at the top on a warm calm cloudless moonlit night. It was over. I don't know what I was thinking, or who I was thinking of. I'd heard of epic climbs before, now I felt I'd had an inkling of what that was all about.

It took a while to find the path to walk down the other side. Some campers, who were somewhat surprised by our appearance guided us to it.

From the very top, we looked out, and could see the remarkable forms of the Warrumbungles against the night sky. The valley was in darkness. Suddenly, I didn't want to quit climbing, as I had vowed I would all day. I didn't want to be anywhere else, and I didn't wish we'd backed off at the third stance. I knew I'd done something unlike ever before in my life, and it will take some time to articulate why I know that in all likelihood, I'll do it again. Even bigger! It felt really really good.