A Name To Conjure With

Taipan- now there’s a name to conjure with in the world of climbing…- Gordon Poultney

Taipan Wall is the centrepiece of Australian climbing. Massive, orange, relentlessly and brutally overhanging- a steady and continual incline that withers your forearms as you look at it. It is also, surely, one of the most stunning pieces of rock on the planet. I challenge anyone to find something better.

You can approach Taipan from two directions. Either you slog up the non-factually named ‘Flat Rock,’ until, gasping for breath, Taipan rears up in the distance. Or (better) you wander up from the much more appropriately named ‘Camp Sandy’, where you can gawp at the crag for much of the walk. Incredible scoops and flakes on perfect rock are Taipan’s calling card, along with significant sections which are stunningly blank. Like most Australian rock, it is also an incredible colour. That orange sandstone with black water streaks is the sort of rock formation a child would draw, its just so simple. It also makes most UK crags look bleak by comparison…

James on Groovy (27)

James off Groovy (27)

But looking good and being impressively steep isn’t what makes Taipan special. Its not what gives it its character, which can prove addictive. Gordon Poultney again nails it: ‘once becomes twice, and twice can rapidly lead to the kind of obsession reminiscent of teenage love affairs…’

As the above paragraphs confirm, I am unashamedly infatuated with Taipan. For the three months I was camped at Arapiles, everything I climbed there was brilliant, but it was secondary to what I wanted to climb at Taipan. This had been the case since my first encounter with the cliff. I had found myself in the Grampians with the motley crew of Henry, Maxi and Hannah, whom I’d met the previous day at Arapiles. (My first encounter was actually observing Maxi taking an emergency shit in the bush at the top of the Bard, before we abseiled off our route and joined them at the rap station back to the base. Maxi and I simul-rapped down, got chatting and that was that…). It was pissing with rain and Henry and I decided to go to Taipan, enticed by the rock umbrella it offered. I dogged my way up the entry level 7b, Mr Joshua, and got roundly spanked. You would assume it was a sport route from the grade, but that’s not how things work at Taipan. I placed plenty of gear and even then it felt seriously bold, like dogging up a scary, slopey E5 with incredibly spaced bolts. Suitably chastened by how hard I’d found it, I set off up the entry 7b+, The Invisible Fist. The climbing on this was much more conventional and the bolts (marginally) more closely spaced. Nevertheless, nearing the top, significantly runout, pumped and clueless about what to do next, I lost it completely and freaked the fuck out. Whimpering like a small child to Henry, I eventually calmed down enough to do the move, only to find myself too pumped to clip, even while hanging off the draw! Screaming with terror and shouting something like ‘ARGHHHH IM OFF!!!’  I took the ride, only to predictably find it was absolutely fine and Henry was laughing at me. I got to the top eventually and we walked out, the adrenaline pulsing through me. Later that evening I was waxing lyrical about the routes, the rock, the runouts, already forgetting the fear. I was psyched out of my bracket and fantasising about my next visit. I had a new obsession.

The Invisible Fist (26). Yes, thats the first clip.

I returned to complete the Fist and to work the linkup into World Party over plenty of sessions, by far the most satisfying thing I’ve ever climbed. I don’t know what it is about this cliff that so totally grabbed me, and holds on to me still. It had nothing I’m good at naturally. It rewards incredible fitness and I am not very fit. It rewards massive forearms, which I manifestly don’t have. It requires immense sloper strength, the holds I hate the most on account of the pitifully small surface area my pixie hands provide. The only thing it had, other than its reputation for brilliance, which I was remotely attracted to before I went there was an incredibly sparse bolting ethic which appealed to the masochist within me that enjoys running it out. But theres a big difference between running it out on easy territory on trad routes and running it out when you’re right at your limit, as I discovered with Henry! For context, the top 25m of Fisting Party (7c) is about 7a+ in its own right and has 3 (THREE) bolts in it. Groove Train (8c), has 2 in the entire section up the black streak! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-PsXKda6JU (maybe the best climbing video ever).

Looking in the guidebook you would conclude that Taipan is a sport crag, like hundreds if not thousands of others across the world. This is wrong on both counts; its not a sport crag, and its not like the others. Taipan’s wacky bolting ethic, spearheaded by the legendary Malcolm ‘HB’ Matheson, is to place bolts only where sufficient natural protection does not exist, and even then to keep it spicy. The classic 8a of Serpentine is a case in point; containing a mixture of trad gear and bolts with no lower off at the top, this is definitely not your average 8a. Even when you tick it you have to take the infamous ‘victory whip’ from the top of crag, which probably weighs in at about 50m all told… (google it).

Even on the lowly routes I was trying, the intention was clearly to embrace the fear that comes with a meaty runout. It’s a strange mixture of terror and security that proves addictive. You’re way out from the bolt, climbing right at your limit, but the crag is so steep theres nothing to hit, and you’re above a bolt, not some crap RP. Not that this helps with the fear. I have never been more scared in any form of climbing than I’ve been on Taipan Wall, but everytime you fall off after being totally gripped you wonder why it was such a big deal. Normally you can train yourself out of this fear sport climbing. I’m not sure anyone ever has at Taipan. The run outs get larger the harder you climb- even Sharma got scared! The air below your feet, all the way down to the boulders and the bush below, your extended quickdraw miles below waving at you in the wind, the rope snaking out from your waist, hanging slack below you while your arms give out…I can feel the terror typing this. But I also feel a deep attachment to the place, cultivated over the days I spent there while I worked on by far the hardest, but also the best, sport route I’ve ever climbed in my life. 

I have the beta for Fisting Party saved as a note on my phone. Every hand movement, foot adjustment, drop knee, rest position. I know this is normal for proper sport climbers but I’d never cared enough about a route to bother. Taipan changed all that. The bit that stands out for me is the last section up the groove of World Party. ‘Fire yourself into the groove. Face right to minimise terror. Want it and remember fundamental safety.’ Nowhere else in the world would I have had to remind myself of that on a ‘sport’ route. The memory of climbing that groove (using the wrong beta) is seared into my memory and I’m not sure another sport climbing crag could do that to me.

Yet another session on the linkup

 

The groove of Fisting Party

Taipan is unique, and its not for everyone. More than one person I met in Australia had no time for its zany bolting and the requirement to get super scared. My friend Alex, much stronger than I and much better as well, was reduced to ranting incoherently as he attempted to clipstick the next bolt, miles above his head, with a tree branch. Chris Sharma doesn’t really get it either, explaining as much to Aussie magazine Vertical Life. But I think it is truly special, and if anyone ever grid bolts it it would be a total tragedy for Australian climbing; I’d probably use the need to chop them as an excuse for a holiday! What makes going to new places to climb is the character that each place has, and how different it might be to what you’re used to. You might climb a given grade anywhere else in the world, but it requires a different set of skills at Taipan (a trad apprenticeship was definitely handy). Anyway, not sure what I’ve actually worked out other than I fucking love it there. I’ll go back for sure; and I’ll get scared all over again.

The evening light on Taipan. There was no fucking around with the camera here, thats actually how it looks.