Frenchman’s Cap

Frenchman’s Cap is a 400 vertical cliff face in the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park in north west Tasmania. Frenchman’s is the biggest vertical cliff in Australia. The easiest way in is a difficult two day hike from the Lyell highway including steep terrain and thigh deep struggle through mud of the Loddon Plains.

Between 1992 and 1998 Morgan and I hooked up each Christmas break for a climbing adventure somewhere in Australia.

We couldn’t ignore the call of Frenchman’s, it was what climbing represented for us, alone in the wilderness going places you could only dream of. Our whole trip was planned around doing one particular 380 metre route straight up the middle. I pointed out to Morgan that, even if nothing goes wrong, it will take 13 hours to climb at our rate of climbing which would mean we would finish in the dark. His theory was that we should climb light and fast and plan for survival not comfort if we were benighted on the climb.

Even getting there posed its own challenges, carrying a pack laden with climbing gear and food and camping supplies for 10 days our pack was so heavy we had to get into it while it was still on the ground.

I met Morgan at Hobart airport Sunday morning; he had come from the Sydney to Hobart yacht race.

I was in charge of organizing the food, weeks of meticulous planning and counting out every nut and rice grain to save weight. The first thing Morgan said to me when he saw the food was that there was not enough. When I went though the calculations with him he laughed and went down to the nearest shop and doubled our rations.

Somehow on the walk in we ran out of water, and we both got very dehydrated. We came across a stagnate pool of water full of what looked like possum poo. We were so thirsty we drank from it anyway, and figured we would deal with the consequences later.

Base camp for the climbing was a beautiful place, Lake Tahune. It comprised of an alpine lake, a hut and a small flat outdoor area about the size of a typical back yard. The rest was all steep mountain terrain and spectacular views of the valley below. When we were not climbing there was not much else to do here but enjoy each others quiet company.

For the first couple of days we had the hut to ourselves. There was a log book in the hut which gave us hours of entertaining reading. The last entry was some climbers who got in trouble and ran out of daylight. Their story tells us how they had to abseil 300 meters in the dark to get themselves off. Abseiling off a cliff like this is a scary proposition requiring you to leave behind a lot of climbing gear. You can only abseil 50 meters at a time and you have to decide whether you leave behind one, two or three pieces of gear for safety. Each 50 meters of abseiling you might be leaving behind several hundred of dollars of gear, but the real worry is that you don’t run out of gear before you reach the ground.

Climbing with Morgan was a really beautiful experience. He was a committed climber who never got scared (at least didn’t show it) and as things got tougher so did he. He was meticulous yet efficient, adventurous yet safe, and would step up when called for. He saw every climb as a new experience, a way to learn about himself and improve his skills. He climbed because it was there.

It was the second day at the hut before the weather was suitable for climbing. The night before we had discussed what climb we were going to do. The climb we really wanted to do was harder and longer then the others. I was in favour of doing an easier warm up climb. But Morgs’ logic was that we had come to do a particular climb and that if we get a break in the weather we should just do it because we might not get another chance. I’ve learnt long ago that arguing with Morgan is futile.

We got up early in the morning, the weather looked good and an hour later we were at the base of the climb. I cautiously lead the first pitch (each pitch is about 30 meters and takes about an hour by the time both of you are finished). We were swapping leads weaving our way up the cliff. Occasionally we came across massive loose boulders which would sway outwards when you pulled on them. At the top of each pitch we would look at the gear left behind in the rock by the guys abseiling off a few weeks earlier. We took some time to discuss what we would do if we had to abseil off.

Morgan hit the first really hard pitch about 250 meters up – a steep corner which was seeping water down both faces. Gear was hard to place and the climbing was very strenuous and slippery. If we hit this pitch on the ground we would have never started, but up here the choice is not as clear because getting off the climb can be equally confronting. Morgan lead the pitch unwaveringly. It wasn’t until I came up behind him did I realise how difficult and scary it was. At the top of the pitch we both breathed in life and took in the view. For us, this was what climbing was all about.

Looking up, it was not obvious which way to go. We choose to go straight up despite being steep with some small overhangs. Halfway through the pitch I got into a little bit of difficulty climbing through a steep bit – my forearms lost all strength and I peeled off the cliff. I ended up dangling above 250 meters of nothingness and watching my sun glasses spiral down through the air and eventually out of sight. Looking up I saw one of the two ropes had been badly damaged on the edge of a rock. I struggle back onto the cliff and eventually get past the area I fell. Morgan follows and falls in the same spot as I did. Because the cliff is slightly overhanging in this area he is too far out to reach the cliff.

Morgan remembers his climbing course training from some years back, ties two prussic knots and climbs up the rope, all the while there is hundreds of meters of nothingness below him. At this point we were running about 2 hours behind schedule, twilight had already started and we were not sure if we were still on the right climb. Neither of us wanted to be stuck on the cliff at night, and we certainly didn’t want to follow the other guys on their horror abseil experience.

Both of us were hyped from the last two hours of climbing, we look at each other and say lets go for it. We had never climbed 150 meters so quickly but ended up finishing the climb just after dark. The funny thing is that the highest point on the mountain was only 50 meters away up a gentle slope, but we never made those last couple of steps. We found the descent route and made our way back to camp.

Over the 8 days we were there we attempted 4 routes, and finished 3 of them. Some bad weather came through on our last climb and we had to do our own version of a horror abseil.

On the days we were not climbing we just hung around the cabin, went for a swim in the lake and sat and talked for hours. We talked about life, girl friends past and present, future plans and new adventures to be had.

By the time we walked out we had finished every last scrap of food and done some of the most remarkable climbing of our lives.

Morgan it was an absolute honour and privilege to have experienced these days with you…

Simon Dale (your long term friend)