We had planned this trip for a while and it was going to be a long multi-pitch route to introduce Mark to the Pierces Pass area where gravity is particularly succulent. Mark had already tried three times to make it to Bunny Bucket Buttresswith the weather each time playing games with him. On Friday the 27 January during a long weekend things were going to be different - for sure! Our route was waiting for us as we pulled into the parking lot of the Archibald for a pub meal and beer on Australia Day. When we took the first sip of our brew the drizzle set in! The curse of Pierces Pass was following us. Last time the same thing happened to Jason and Roman when they came up for Hotel California with Jen.

Deja vu, but we didn't give up that easily, maybe it will dry out, maybe the rain will ease and the wind will blow the rock dry, the climbing in a waterfall isn't so bad ? We mulled over another beer, scrumptious sweet potato chips and lashings of pizza, or maybe we can keep on eating ? We weren't throwing in the towel that easily, we will just drive to the parking lot at Pierces Pass and see what will happen!

It got a lot worse as soon as we hit the road past Bilpin. The fog was so thick it was hard to see the road lights and the temperature plummet. Was this really summer? Mark brought his thermals (really?) and was probably going to use them?
But that won't stop us, we sliced through the sick fog in our car and where completely alone in an alien landscape. The
trail to the Pierces Park car park was closed with a sign saying:

"BBQ temporarily out of order"

No really I am not kidding! We looked at the barbecue to make sure and it was okay ? Camping was a solitary experience see photo with no one around. We shared a German import beer before hitting the sack early tomorrow was going to be a big day one way or another. One car came early in the morning and left straight away. Moisture, saturation and humidity were at 100%. When we walk up the fog was heavy and everything was wet, there was no point in committing to the wet trail. time for plan B. Duck Wall at the Bells Supercrag.

Bells was guaranteed to be perfectly dry, with its huge roof the golden routes promised permanently embalmed jugs in perpetual dryness and the best way to experience a rigorous flogging in the vertical dimension. There was still no one around in the surreal landscape.

The trail to Bell gorge clung to us like a diving suite and we were two walking moisture droplets in a sea of fluid, swimming towards a distant cliff face. The descent into the gorge was slippery but the walls at the bottom - hallelujah - were completely dry. Apparent from the bloody drizzle that set in again. There was not a soul in sight, we thought there maybe a few other desperate but I guess everyone else looked at the weather reports. So we had two lost souls in a sea of a thousand routes. Yes baby! Since the walls appeared to be dry we picked a solitary wall: The Blowhole (we would find out the hard way were the name came from). There were only twelve routes on this mini crag which formed a section of the much larger Bell Gorge. And of course we thought we might as well finish them all. Though you could not see more than ten meters into the mist, hell who cares as long as you can find the next ring bolt.

We systematically worked our way through the amazing variety of routes: easy warm-up grade 16 pumped us senseless, really? Another easy 16 but this time a little longer and more overhanging - really? Shall we move onto 17, not sure, but a little scary. We started to warm up a bit by the time we hit grade 18. The mist temporarily retreated with a smile, but came straight back up the valley as if to tease us. It was time to hit grade 20 (Araldite * ) which was a long intricate route with its tricky start and exciting finish, there is a hidden bolt before the last move and it is capped by a roof. Mark styled it and locked in the final undercling move through the roof. By lunch time it was time to start trying a little harder: the three star 22 called BLOW was the pick of the crag. It had a sharp punchy crux right off the deck followed by steep jug hauling up a long overhanging line. Too easy!  The route next door caught my eyes:  a huge relentless roof with a "blind-move" crux right on the lip. Holelipstick Hippy (25**) and it was time for a nice spanking. The roof went surprisingly easy but the crux was horrendous with blind throws for a horrible sloper before the jug appeared somewhere above. I finally hit it and cruised to the top. Cleaning the route was probably tougher than the climb itself with some 13 draws through a massive roof.

It was time to dig out the left over pizza from last night, but not before our coffee "with" the sprinkles. Don't worry its a ritual. We still had a few routes left in the crag and finally at about 3ish the sun briefly appeared to show us where the name Blowhole came from. With the rising temperature like a hothouse the flies suddenly appeared. Blowflies, Horseflies, little stinging sand flies ... hey Roman are you belaying - take in the slack - sorry Mark just being eaten down here.

It was getting late in the afternoon and weird body parts began to cramp up. But we weren't giving up that easily there was still some later afternoon sun left. We had a few climbs to do before finishing the entire crag so Mark gave one of the leftovers a shot and started cramping up. Somehow he managed to keep going and made it to the top. My turn, there was a 21 (Perkins Paste *) left with a crimpy crux, it was my turn to cramp up now as I fought my way to the top. The flies kept getting worse and no matter how many you killed they just kept on coming.

We had about two easy climbs left to go when we heard some strange music appearing from the opposite side of the gorge. Somebody was humming the theme of Kill Bill while cranking hard on steep sandstone. It was a surreal sensation and the first people we saw all day. We later saw their car and realised that it was the car that visited us the night before at the campground - same plan to climb at Pierces Pass and same escape plan. Mark got a second wind ignored his cramping forearms and worked his way up one last climb. It was finally time to call it a day.

As we left Duck Wall was glistening orange in the afternoon sun. Once again the Pierces Pass curse had tried to stop us but we made up for it in spades. We will be back to try again.....