A memorable ascent of the north face of Leaning Peak: 16-17 September 2017

Alan Frost with son Chris on the summit of Leaning Peak -- 16 September 2017. Photo: Chris Frost

This is the story of an extraordinary ascent of Leaning Peak's north face by Alan Frost and his son, Chris. Why extraordinary? Alan was 82 at the time, becoming the oldest climber to have completed the route. He's also the oldest active climber from a postwar Queensland cohort who created a climbing culture that all of us have built on -- and benefited from. Chris has made an enormous contribution to the climbing scene both here and abroad from the late 1970s, following in his father's very large footsteps. As a climbing team, they have made many memorable ascents across Southeast Queensland and look set to continue.

I first wrote about their achievement last year in the online climbing magazine, Vertical Life (No. 23), but space restrictions prevented me from including more detail of this memorable event. I doubt whether anyone will better the ascent age record set by Alan who seems to have lost none of the passion for the heights that inspired he and his long-time climbing partner, Peter Barnes (now 87), to accomplish a long list of first and significant ascents in Southeast Queensland. Although by his own admission, the lightning pace set by he and Peter during their forays from the late 1940s may have slowed a little, he still climbs at a level that would challenge many current climbers. The following are emails sent to me following their historic ascent. I must declare a personal interest here having been part of the first ascent team -- with John Shera and my brother Chris -- on Leaning Peak's north face in February 1968. It was a defining moment in my own life and it seems that the spell of the big face has lost none of its aura. At 410 metres, it is still the longest trad route in Queensland (arguably Australia). I am sure that their experiences on the climb and the memories evoked will inspire you as they did me...

Alan Frost on one of the lower pitches of Leaning Peak's north face. Photo: Chris Frost

  

ALAN

Chris has told of our adventure Sat/Sun. It was magic in so many ways, and gave much food for thought, especially as I was the belayer. It was hard to place it all in the perspective of the old days, but my main conclusion was to recognise the amazing achievement of your first ascent in 1968. It is always easier thereafter, knowing it can be done and an approximate idea of difficulty. And you did it in the old trad way with minimal gear (pitons?), static rope and I guess no sticky rubber shoes. After 49 years I felt humbled by your success. You were lucky in your time — the edge of our trad stuff (the leader shall not fall — Frank Smythe) and the beginning of protecting the leader, which slowly changed everything, in which you were much involved. Of course at the time I was well aware of the changes occurring, but let them pass me by: I was too busy at work and with a young family; it was evident that to be involved would take up too much time in mastering the new techniques.

I took up squash for the sharp exercise and played Pennant for many years until I could not see the ball well. When Chris, Paul (Hoskins) and others got serious in the early 80's, I dropped squash and trained with them. But for me it was too late. I fairly quickly got up to leading 21s and a few harder, but never felt myself competent, needing more practice. Then they all disappeared: Paul to Arapiles, Chris married and then took up flying ( as did some others). So I was back to the old scrambling, which I still enjoy, with irregular climbing with Chris.

Back to Saturday: all this stuff was whizzing around in my mind while watching the smoke, the exposure, and Chris seeking runners. Initially I was more concerned about getting a pack to the foot of the climb -- I am slow uphill with a pack (age and cardiac output are not friends, as you will find!!). As it turned out it was no problem, but finding the Gash (as we called it in the old days) in the smoke was difficult as we could not see any part of the mountain.

Eventually the start was obvious, a good angled start that just slowly became steeper. I was unsure at first of the slippers on the rock, and how I would handle the heavy pack, but after a few minutes I felt in my element, and the rock moves were great. Eventually we were over the smoke, but it was still very hazy. The last two pitches were fantastic. Very steep and scary for Chris with the runout on delicate holds. He is the ultimate climber, has been for a long time: relaxed and careful, judgement from long experience, yet once runners are in, graceful and quick. There were a couple of moves on the climb that I thought were around 18, the rest around 12-14, and overall, fantastic rock.

To my astonishment we topped out just on 5 pm, exactly where you exit the ledge [the Waring Ledge, first climbed in 1949 by Bob Waring], a few feet from the top. At the time there was no wind, and it would have been churlish to rush off to find a spot to curl up — so we stayed and watched the sunset, put on some clothes, feet in bivvy bag, and guess what? Chris produced some Talisker Scotch which we supped as the West and East Peaks turned from mellow detail to (West) a giant sombre black pyramid. The clouds of smoke down below from 8-10 fires around Ballow and the north of Barney creek mellowed and disappeared with the light, leaving the bright stark margins of the fires. It was one of the most magic hours I have had in the mountains.

So thanks to you for pioneering such a great climb. As we all know one cannot wax lyric to anyone but a climber, and often even they are not interested; so thanks for listening to my rambling.
PS. Chris just reminded me that I took him up Logan's ridge when he was 8, i.e. 1968, the year of your climb!

 Alan Frost high on the face in fading light. Photo: Chris Frost

CHRIS

Left the car park at 4.45am. There were many fires about with lots of smoke. The smoke even made navigation hard in the scrub leading up to the base of the route. We were slowed by the thick scunge for a while and didn't start climbing until 10am. T'was a bit of a slow start! We did 12 pitches with Dad climbing second on each pitch. He was amazing, climbing the entire route without assistance from the rope. We topped out at 5 pm in the setting sun. I'd planned on a bivi, so had packed bivi bags, a stove and little extra water.

I surprised Dad with a cup each of fine scotch whiskey. We sat and soaked up the moment as the sun set over west peak. After a few brews we climbed into our bivi bags and endured a fitful sleep in the cold. A southwest wind rose considerably overnight making things a little cooler than I imagined. We both had bouts of shivering. Good fun!


The first morning light had us out of our bags and keen to start moving. We were being blown over with the wind! The abseil was fun in the even stronger wind of saddle venturi effect. We scooted up over North Peak and descended Rocky Creek. Back to the car then the obligatory beer at the Rathdowney Pub.