Sunday, October 11, 2015

Close to the edge: imagining climbing in southeast Queensland

Close to the edge: 
imagining climbing in southeast Queensland

Michael Meadows, Robert Thomson and Wendy Stewart 

[Note: We wrote this article based on our first tentative exploration of Queensland newspaper archives, former climbers' diaries, documents and recollections. It was the basis for a conference paper and was subsequently published in a modified form in the academic history journal, Queensland Review 7(2), 67-84, 2000]

Introduction


In 1992, the Climbing World Finals event in Birmingham attracted around 5,000 spectators watching 24 males and 16 females compete in two separate competitions for prizemoney.  In this entertainment spectacular, super-fit young athletes climb walls using artificial hand and footholds, racing against the clock to determine who will claim the title of the world’s ‘best’ climber.  In the same year, climbing appeared as a demonstration sport at the Albertville Winter Olympics.[i]  In the same year, the first indoor climbing gymnasium in Australia opened its climbing wall.  There are now around 80 operating around the country under the auspices of the Australian Indoor Climbing Gyms Association Incorporated.[ii]

Two years earlier in 1990, the Australian Sportsclimbing Federation was formed.  It is registered with the International Union of Alpinist Associations (UIAA) the umbrella organisation for all mountaineering and rockclimbing associations worldwide.  In April last year at an event in the Blue Mountains called Escalade, 19 of the country’s highest-ranked female and 17 top-ranked male climbers competed.  It was the eighth climbing competition held in Australia since 1996 and some participants went on to compete in the World Cup—an international climbing competition.  A significant increase in female participation in rockclimbing coincides with the advent of climbing gyms in Australia.  Perhaps one reason for this is the central place of fitness in the lives of many young people.  Indoor climbing was quickly adopted as an interesting and effective way of getting and keeping fit—something confirmed by proponents of sports medicine.[iii] The increasing popularity of rockclimbing in its many forms has prompted studies from varied perspectives—for example, analysis of hand and finger abnormalities specific to climbers;[iv] analysis of rockclimbers’ injuries;[v] climbers’ ability to deal with occupational hazards;[vi] identifying climbers’ higher than average ‘sensation-seeking dispositions’;[vii] and the effects of climbers on the cliffs themselves.[viii]  The growing popularity of rockclimbing has itself presented traditional climbers with the contradiction that their very presence in wilderness locations acts to ‘transform, tame, and degrade nature’.[ix]

At one climbing gym in central Brisbane, an upstairs section of the building features a room where climbers can relax, hang out, shoot some pool and listen to music—an Internet cafĂ© without the Internet.  By the mid-1990s in Australia, climbing had become part of the Extreme Games, a nationally televised event which includes such sports as skateboarding and hangliding.  It regularly features as a ‘cool’ activity in action feature films like The Eiger Sanction, Cliffhanger, where the central character is a climber.  Rockclimbing is an important activity which frames the latest manifestation of Mission: Impossible II.  Secret agent Ethan Hunt’s impossible antics on the huge walls of the Colorado Rockies at the start of the film features rockclimbing in a way which encapsulates the very themes of this conference—ethics, events, and entertainment.  The much publicised involvement of Tom Cruise in his own stunts for the film in turn frames rockclimbing as the cool activity for the new millennium.

From its earliest imaginings as a recreation, rockclimbing now finds itself straddling leisure and sport in the panoply of popular cultural activities.[x]  But it is not only the activity of rockclimbing itself which has moved to centre stage in popular culture.  What began as specialist outdoor equipment—from boots to backpacks—now makes up the wardrobes of generations of people who will never climb a cliff-face nor set foot on a walking track.  But this does not mean that those who climb have ignored this powerful cultural influence—far from it.  Climbers have appropriated aspects of popular culture—like fashion, music, and style—and incorporated these into the discourse of climbing.  Clearly, climbing is cool—a central part of popular culture—and consumer-friendly.  Popular media images from mainstream print and broadcast outlets to those in niche magazines play an important discursive role in ‘imagining’ climbing.  But it is far from being a new phenomenon.  In the second half of the 19th century, as the idea of mountaineering became fashionable in parts of Europe, mountaineering clothing and equipment became especially popular among British tourists ‘even though one in a hundred got close enough to the icefields to make good use of their outfits’.[xi]  As ever, consumer culture remains ‘a culture of the spectacle’ and perhaps nowhere more apparent than in the various modes of modern rockclimbing.[xii]

Alongside what has become the popular face of climbing, are diverse and parallel inflections of this cultural activity, each powerfully defined by sets of ethics that militate against particular practices—even if safety is a consideration.  For example, in climbing competitions, ‘sport’ climbers don’t need to carry some safety equipment because it has been previously placed on the artificial climbing walls they scale.  Citing ethics as a reason for rejecting this approach to climbing, some prefer to climb in places which enable the use of ‘natural’ protection (lightweight devices that can be wedged into cracks and removed without causing significant damage to rock).  This ethical stance is one of the hallmarks of what is now termed ‘adventure’ or ‘traditional’ climbing.  The diversification of climbing has been one inevitable consequence of the complex interaction of market forces and popular demand.  The ‘event’ of the first ascent has given way—in the popular imaginary at least—to events of a different sort, more likely to be featured on national television. 

Rockclimbing as a cultural practice emerged in Europe as a pastime, separate from its predecessor—mountaineering—late in the 19th century.  It began as a peculiarly European and masculine phenomenon with a strong British influence.  Some have described the nature of its emergence as ‘vertical colonialism’ with the idea of climbing being exported by British mountaineers seeking new challenges in the Americas, Africa and the Himalayas.[xiii] But alongside this notion of climbing as a global/colonial phenomenon are other, local influences—as Bricknell reminds us, leisure practices, like climbing, are historically produced and socially constructed.[xiv]  Kiewa takes this further, describing leisure as ‘an interactive process of self-construction’.[xv]  The experience of climbing, like other leisure activities such as tourism—with which it has historically had a close association—takes place in different spatial, temporal and subjective contexts and this has led to the emergence of ‘different imaginings’ of rockclimbing in different sites around the world.[xvi]  We examine one of these sites in this paper.

While the emergence of mountaineering, then rockclimbing, within a masculine framework continues to influence climbing in the new millennium, there have been—and continue to be—some significant challenges to that.[xvii]  Prominent female climbers like Elizabeth Burnaby LeBlond had emerged late in the 19th century at a time when the mountains were considered no place for women.  The Ladies Alpine Club was formed in England in 1907.  Three years later across the Pacific, Australian Freda Du Faur became the first woman to climb Mount Cook in December 1910—and was in the party to complete the first Mt Cook-Mt Tasman traverse.  De Faur followed this astonishing achievement up with several first ascents in the NZ Alps.  An extraordinary movement in southeast Queensland 20 years later saw female climbers playing a major role.  The 1930s might well be called Queensland’s (and Australia’s) ‘golden age’ of climbing.  Our research suggests that it represents a significant moment in the invention of Australian climbing. 

While a dominant figure during that era was the enigmatic Queenslander Bert Salmon, several female climbers emerged at that time claiming first ascents of local and interstate summits.  Muriel Patten and Jean Easton stand out as confident and pioneering in their contribution to this ‘imagining’ process.  Salmon regularly climbed with women and large parties of male and female climbers made numerous ascents of southeast Queensland’s most challenging summits.  Patten was the first woman to climb the First Sister in the Blue Mountains in 1934 and Easton became the second a few months later.  We take a closer look at this important era later in this paper.

Our aim here is to look at some influences on the emergence of the idea of climbing in southeast Queensland.  The examples we use here are drawn from our current research project which has already gathered a rich array of material concerning early climbing history in Queensland and beyond—newspaper articles, newsletters, magazines, historical society journals, climbing guides, letters, diaries, photographs and oral histories.  But we also suggest thinking about climbing as a text—a dynamic process; a set of practices—discursively produced.[xviii]

Australian—and more specifically Queensland—climbing and climbers have been ‘imagined’ in a particular way (Anderson 1984).  While the idea of mountaineering certainly preceded the emergence of climbing in Australia, the very nature of the landscape here meant that climbing was bound to take on a different persona from its European antecedent.  Figuring strongly in this discursive construction was the unique geographical make-up of southeast Queensland—with its diverse collection of volcanic mountain peaks within range of a major population centre[xix]—along with a climate that encouraged the emergence of leisure activities like walking, scrambling and climbing.  This particular combination of discourses played a crucial role in shaping modern Australian climbing.  We suggest that this activity in southeast Queensland in the 1930s played a major role in the emergence of modern Australian climbing culture.

The theme of this conference—ethics, events, and entertainment—suggests ways in which we might understand climbing from its earliest incarnations to its current place in mainstream popular culture.  And we intend to use these themes within a broad cultural studies approach as a framework for our paper.  Here, we draw from Grossberg’s notion of the ‘radically contextual’ nature of cultural studies as ‘a discursive space of alliances’[xx]—important elements which inform much of our understanding about climbing and its place as a popular cultural practice.

 


Climbing as event—first ascents


It is just over 200 years since the first recorded European ascent of a peak in southeast Queensland.  In general, the record of early Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal ascents of southeast Queensland mountains is not easily accessible. Much of the information concerning possible early ascents of the mountains of the southeast is either oral history, recorded by non-Indigenous settlers and academics, or anecdotal as recounted by non-Indigenous sources. Such reports tend to be either unpublished or included in broader histories of settlement and exploration.  While Aboriginal interest in the mountains of the southeast for millennia is undeniable—all of the peaks in southeast Queensland are incorporated in Aboriginal creation stories—it is their interest in climbing them that is problematic.[xxi]

There seems little doubt that Aboriginal people could have climbed all of the mountains in southeast Queensland—if they had needed or wanted to.  There is clear evidence of Indigenous people’s ability to climb trees and vines so there is little doubt that it was physically possible.  But why would they want to? 

Two Aboriginal people accompanied Thomas Archer in 1841 when he climbed Beerwah in the Glasshouses—there is some suggestion that they showed him the way!  But there was a belief at the time that a spirit lived there and local Aboriginal people kept away, fearing that anyone who climbed it would go blind.  This did happen to Andrew Petrie who was the first recorded European to climb the mountain in 1840.[xxii] Various accounts of stories about places like Mount Barney[xxiii] and Mount Lindesay[xxiv] centre on Aboriginal ascents of the mountains—but with dire consequences.  However, there are numerous versions of a story of Aboriginal people climbing Mount Lindesay using vines hanging down the cliffs prior to the 1840s when these were destroyed by a bushfire.[xxv]

Although the first ascent of Mount Lindesay by a non-Aboriginal person has long been assumed to be in 1872, there is strong evidence to suggest that the mountain’s first European climber reached the summit around 30 years earlier.  It seems highly likely from the available sources that William Thornton (later Collector of Customs), J. Kinchela and a third man used vines to reach the summit sometime before the reported bushfire in the late 1840s.[xxvi] 

The mountains of southeast Queensland which attract many thousands of recreational climbers and bushwalkers today were equally attractive to the first non-Aboriginal people to document their presence.  Cook’s sighting and naming of The Glasshouses, north of Brisbane, and Matthew Flinders’s subsequent recorded first ascent of one of the group, Beerburrum, on 26 July, 1799, marked a new age of exploration in southeast Queensland and played a significant role in the process of ‘imagining’ the new colony—and climbing.[xxvii]

Thirty years after Flinders’ ascent in The Glasshouses, the first ascent of Mount Barney by Captain Patrick Logan on 3 August 1828 played an important role in determining that it was not Mount Warning but a separate massif altogether.  This ascent by Logan took place just four years after the establishment of the Moreton Bay penal settlement.  It seems clear that from this that the British invasion brought more to the colony than shipload of convicts and their overlords.  Clearly, the idea of mountaineering was amongst the colonial baggage.  The Brisbane Courier (1872) records the first few ascents of Beerwah in The Glasshouses in 1841 along with the presence of explorer Ludwig Leichhardt (who also climbed Beerwah) in the region a few years later.  Climbing activity increased in southeast Queensland as settlers moved into the area. 

This important period in which rockclimbing could be equated closely with exploration offers an opportunity to investigate the history of the idea of climbing in a local context.[xxviii]  Climbing was well-established internationally at this time, with the first ascent of Mont Blanc in 1787 before the onset of the ‘Golden Age’ of mountaineering (1854-1865) during which around 180 great European peaks were climbed for the first time—the last being the Matterhorn in 1865.[xxix]   This era, and in particular, the reporting of these exploits by the colonial press, played a significant role in the emergence of the idea of climbing—in an Australian sense. 



Climbing as entertainment

At the turn of the 20th century, a number of young adventurers from the Boonah district in southeast Queensland, began scrambling on the nearby peaks and ranges.  Following the lead of Milford school teacher Harry Johns, these early century enthusiasts made numerous ascents of the West Moreton, Main and McPherson Range peaks in the years to about 1918.  There had been occasional climbers and scramblers in southeast Queensland before this time, but the Boonah ‘Wayfarers’, as they called themselves, were a new development—they were regulars who viewed climbing and scrambling as a recreation and a pastime, a point which is quite evident when we read the newspaper and diary accounts of their exploits.

Whilst the ‘Wayfarers’ were significant, it is perhaps more accurate to view them as part of a wider climbing and scrambling culture which emerged in southeast Queensland at this time, rather than as trail blazing pioneers—and here it is worth noting that not long after the ‘Wayfarers’ appeared, other regulars started climbing and scrambling at the Glasshouses, north of Brisbane.

In all, it is quite remarkable that a climbing and scrambling culture emerged in southeast Queensland in the early 20th century.  The ‘mass discovery’ of the countryside, for example, did not emerge until postwar in the UK but there was what the British press described as ‘a hiking boom’ in 1931.[xxx]  Climbing and scrambling were different and so far, our research suggests there were no comparable developments elsewhere in Australia at this time.  It also seems unlikely that local climbers and scramblers had any significant contact with contemporary British and European mountaineers.  Obviously, the ‘Wayfarers’ and the other early century climbers emerged within a context.  In the decade or so before the ‘Wayfarers’ appeared, rambling, cycling and a number of other outdoor pursuits had become popular amongst the Brisbane and provincial leisured classes.

Harry Johns had been introduced to the local peaks by R. A. Wearne, one time Ipswich Technical College Principal and amateur geologist, who took Johns along on rambles in the foothills at Mt Barney and elsewhere.  Throughout the later 19th century there had been a number of notable one-off ascents made in southeast Queensland by adventurers such as Murray-Prior and Pears who climbed Mt Lindesay in 1872.  Before this, in the early 1860s the Roberts /Rowland border survey teams traversed the McPherson Range, climbing all the peaks en route (the exceptions being Mt Lindesay and Wilson’s Peak).  In the early 1840s, the Dixon survey team established a station on Flinders Peak and the Petries and others made a number of ascents of Beerwah in the Glasshouses.  In the early years of the Moreton Bay settlement in 1828, Logan climbed Mt Barney and Cunningham had climbed Mt Mitchell.

There is a sense in which the Boonah ‘Wayfarers’ and the other early 20th century climbers and scramblers extended prevailing European ideas of climbing.

Throughout the later 19th century, mountaineering and climbing received a good deal of coverage in the southeast Queensland press, with numerous accounts of local and overseas ascents appearing in the newspapers.  One of the earliest items, aptly titled ‘The Mania For Alpine Climbing’[xxxi] (a report of a mountaineering disaster at Mont Blanc) appeared in the Queenslander in 1866.  It was followed in 1871 by a brief account of an ascent of Mt Warning[xxxii] and in the following year by an account of the Murray-Prior/Pears Mt Lindesay ascent.[xxxiii]

From about the mid 1880s, mountaineering and climbing articles started to appear in the local newspapers more regularly.  In 1886 there was Grenville Kingsley’s rollicking account of his and the Collins brothers’ Mt Barney ascent[xxxiv], followed a few months later by Thomas Welsby’s remarkable series on his scrambles in the Glasshouses.[xxxv]  In 1890, Borchgrevink’s dramatic Ripping Yarns-style account of his and Brown’s Mt Lindesay ascent appeared,[xxxvi] provoking a Mt Lindesay first ascent debate in the pages of the Brisbane Courier.[xxxvii]  In 1894, John Hardcastle’s account of his Wilson’s Peak ascent was published.[xxxviii] followed in 1895 by ‘Quixote’s’ account.[xxxix]

Throughout this period, there were reports and accounts of ascents in north Queensland—Sayer and Davidson at Bellenden Ker in 1887;[xl] Tyson at Hinchinbrook Island in 1893;[xli] Le Vaux and Moreton at Bellenden Ker in 1897;[xlii] and Le Souef at Peter Botte in 1897.[xliii]  Archibald Meston’s romantic series of Queenslander articles on his Bellenden Ker and Mt Alexandra expeditions appeared in 1889,[xliv] 1892[xlv] and 1896,[xlvi] along with numerous letters disputing his claims and protesting at his hyperbole.

In addition to these local accounts, reports of Meyer’s ascent of Kilimanjaro appeared in 1888[xlvii] and Sir William McGregor’s ascent of Mt Owen Stanley appeared in 1889,[xlviii] and there were accounts of Fitzgerald’s New Zealand mountaineering expedition in 1896,[xlix] Kolb’s ascent of Mt Kenya in 1897[l] and the Duke of Abruzzi’s ascent of Mt St Elias in 1897,[li] to mention a few.

In the early 20th century, the coverage continued, though with a significant increase in the number of local articles.  Accounts of ascents of Mt Lindesay appeared in the Queenslander and Brisbane Courier in 1902, 1904, 1910 and 1913.[lii]   Accounts of ascents at Mt Barney appeared in 1904, and 1914.[liii]  One of the most significant of the early climbers was Boonah schoolteacher William Gaylard.  From around 1910, he added numerous ascents of peaks and cliffs in southeast Queensland the Blue Mountains to his long list of achievements.[liv]

Editions of the Brisbane Courier and the Queenslander regularly reported on climbing exploits at this time and published photographs when they were made available.  The last great challenge to climbers was Coonowrin (Crookneck) in The Glasshouses group.  It was climbed in 1910 by Harry Mikalsen.  Two years later, three sisters made the first female ascent of the mountain and the first ascent of the southern face of Coonowrin (also known locally as Crookneck).  On 26 May 1912, Sara, Jenny and Etty Clark were accompanied by Willie Fraser, George Rowley and Jack Sairs.  Jenny, Etty, Willie and George had cycled from Brisbane two days before.  They climbed Tibrogargan on 25 May and Crookneck the next day.  The women wore ‘voluminous gym clothes’ for the climb and then cycled back to Brisbane afterwards.  These events prompted several articles, including Welsby’s 1911 ‘Crookneck Climbed by Two Sturdy Queenslanders’[lv] (a follow-up on Mikalsen’s Crookneck ascents) and George Rowley’s 1912 account of the Clark sisters’ Crookneck ascent[lvi] that also included summit photographs of the climbers on Crookneck and Tibrogargan.

Throughout this period, accounts of the Boonah ‘Wayfarers’ ascents and rambles appeared in the Boonah and Ipswich newspapers, including William Gaylard’s 1912 ‘Fresh Worlds to Conquer’,[lvii] in which he invited the recently successful Crookneck climbers to try their hand at the Fassifern peaks.  However, perhaps some of the most interesting of the newspaper articles are the exchanges—the 1890 Mt Lindesay first ascent dispute; the various attempts to establish Mt Lindesay ascent chronologies;[lviii] advice for would be climbers;[lix] the 1910 Mt Lindesay ascent dispute;[lx] references to ascents by new routes;[lxi] and local climbing photographs that accompanied the account of the Clark sisters’ Crookneck ascent.  Publication of climbing photographs soon became a regular occurrence in the pages of the Queensland press.

In all, the coverage given to climbing and scrambling in the earlier southeast Queensland press is quite remarkable, and at this point our research suggests that it was unmatched elsewhere in Australia.  Indeed by the early 20th century, it is apparent that the local newspapers had become an established forum, where notable ascents were brought to wider attention and various climbing issues were periodically raised and debated. Clearly, the southeast Queensland newspapers were an important site for imagining climbing, with the press playing an integral  role in promoting and sustaining local climbing discourses. 

There were a number of ways in which climbing was portrayed in the late 19th and early 20th century southeast Queensland newspapers—ranging from folly;[lxii] through Meston’s romantic account of his Mt Alexandra ascent, complete with quotes from Milton’s Paradise Lost;[lxiii]) to various overseas reports where mountaineering was presented within the framework of European exploration discourses and as part of the wider process of defining landscape and making it culturally intelligible.  However with the exception of Meston’s articles, Borchgrevink’s account of the 1890 Mt Lindesay ascent (which in many ways anticipates his later Antarctic writings) and perhaps a few others, the local articles generally approached climbing and scrambling from a different angle.  So by the late 19th and early 20th century, a new idea of climbing had emerged in the southeast Queensland press with local articles portraying climbing and scrambling as something that was possible, as a social activity and as entertainment [lxiv]

The emphasis had shifted from prevailing British and European notions of climbing as exploration, as a specialist activity, or as the domain of an Alpine Club elite.

To an extent, the newspaper coverage climbing and scrambling received was similar to that given to other adventure-leisure pursuits such as sailing and cycling.[lxv]  However it is also clear that climbing emerged in its own right as an established newspaper theme, with the various reports and articles for the most part reflecting local climbing discourses.  Significantly, our research suggests that the late 19th and early 20th century ideas of climbing as a social activity—as entertainment—continued in the southeast Queensland press until about the late 1930s.  So even through the late 1920s and early 1930s, when local climbers such as Bert Salmon and his crowd were regularly making more difficult ascents, climbing was still imagined in the press as a social activity, as entertainment, rather than as a sport or a specialist activity—and we see this in the dozens of climbing articles and reports which appeared in the newspapers in the 1930’s.[lxvi]

It is difficult to quantify the extent to which the press influenced and shaped the development of a climbing and scrambling culture in southeast Queensland in the early 20th century—and this is an issue we are still considering.  Obviously there were other influences, and here we are looking at the role of individuals such as Harry Johns at Boonah in the 1900’s and Bert Salmon in the 1930’s, the rise of leisure and the prevailing leisure discourses, the proximity of the various peaks to centres of population, improvements in transport, the appearance of the National Parks Association in the 1930’s, and so on.

Certainly though, the indicators suggest the newspaper coverage was a significant and at times a leading influence—and the fact that the coverage continued for more than 50 years from the mid 1880’s, that reports and accounts of nearly every notable ascent made in southeast Queensland until the late 1920’s seem to have been published in the local newspapers, and that some of the climbers themselves kept albums of the various newspaper climbing articles, all point to a substantial press influence.  In all, it would be difficult to explain the appearance of the typically southeast Queensland climbing culture which emerged in the early 20th century without the influence of the local press in promoting local climbing and scrambling discourses and forming the way in which local climbers imagined climbing.

 


Climbing culture in the 1930s—the ‘golden age’


In the first few days of 1929, the press reported the first climbing fatality in southeast Queensland.  The story of the death of the 22 year old Lyle Vidler on Mount Lindesay, dominated press coverage.  Significantly, Vidler, a climbing companion of Bert Salmon, had died in a solo attempt at a new route up the mountain.  Vidler lies buried at the base of the cliff.  Albert Armitage (‘AA’ or ‘Bert’) Salmon began his climbing career in earnest in 1925.  In 1927 he formed a mountaineering club in southeast Queensland with Vidler his protĂ©gĂ©.  At least two other climbing clubs formed in Queensland around this time, possibly as early as 1926.[lxvii] In New South Wales, the Blue Mountaineers climbing club was formed in 1929.  By 1930, Salmon had emerged as a dominant and influential figure in climbing in the southeast—and in Australia. 

Salmon’s counterpart, in many ways, was Dr Eric Dark, one-time New South Wales Government Health Officer.  Dark began climbing before Salmon and ventured into Queensland in 1913 to climb both Mount Lindesay and Mount Barney.  While the two climbed contemporaneously, their methods could not have been more different.  Dark adopted the European method of using rope as a safety device on his numerous ascents, climbing some bold new routes in NSW in the Blue Mountains and the Warrumbungles.  He was inaugural president of the Blue Mountaineers, a climbing club based in the Blue Mountains.  Salmon’s climbing ethics shunned the use of rope, except as ‘moral support’.  This approach was adopted by the large parties of men and women who joined him in his many adventures.  They climbed in lightweight sandshoes or barefoot and there are numerous newspaper stories and photographs which bear testament to their unroped ascents of Mount Lindesay and The Glasshouses during this time.  Salmon and his climbing partners left an impressive array of first ascents and new routes across the southeast.  Their 1934 visit to the Blue Mountains made history when Muriel Patten became the first woman to climb the First Sister.  On the same visit, Salmon and one of his climbing companions, George Fraser, scaled the ‘Fly Wall’ at Katoomba without a rope, much to the amazement of Eric Dark who had insisted that they use a rope for safety.  Salmon said that at the time he had ‘tried my level best for the honour of Queensland and my own reputation’.[lxviii]

It was during this period that women made the first ascents of Mount Lindesay and Leaning Peak on nearby Mount Barney. It is clear from the diaries, newspaper articles and photographs of the period that women made up a substantial proportion of climbers in this era.[lxix] One of these was Lexie Wilson, sister of George Fraser who was one of Salmon’s regular climbing partners.  Shortly before her death aged 91, earlier this year, she described how members of her Brisbane climbing group would meet for lunch each day outside Wallace Bishop’s jewellers in Queen Street to plan their weekend’s climb.  The activities of this group was a forerunner of the emergence of recreation as a key cultural activity in Queensland.  Details of their exploits entertained readers of the Brisbane Courier, later The Courier-Mail, until the outbreak of World War II. 

The ‘golden age’ of the 1930s marked the end of a significant era in the development of climbing in Australia.  It had enabled women to take on the most difficult ascents and to claim first ascents of their own.  It had fostered the emergence of a climbing culture which incorporated significant numbers of women.  Kiewa  describes how contemporary female climbers get a sense of empowerment and control from their involvement in climbing.[lxx]  It seems reasonable to suggest that their predecessors in the 1930s experienced similar feelings.  Ironically, it would be another 60 years before women returned to climbing in the same relative numbers.  The idea of rockclimbing had experienced a discursive shift from exploration to recreation—with elements of sport—demanding more of its participants than being first to the top.[lxxi]

This important development in Queensland seems to be unique in terms of its extent and the way in which it attracted so many young women.  Climbing was also popular at the time in the Blue Mountains, largely through the influence of Eric Dark.  Available evidence suggests it was less popular and involved women to a lesser extent than in Queensland.  Nevertheless, climbing in the Blue Mountains was a popular activity and was promoted as ‘a health-giving sport for women’ in one article by the Australian Women’s Mirror:

At Katoomba, in the Blue Mountains of NSW, systematic rock-climbing as a pastime and exercise for women was initiated as a means of encouraging visitors to the mountains to explore their unknown beauties, but it so soon gripped attention that rock-climbing for its own sake has attracted numbers of devotees, enough to establish a rock-climbers’ club which includes both men and women members.[lxxii]

In both Queensland and New South Wales, the idea of rockclimbing had been enshrined in popular culture, well before the war.  For the rest of Australia, it would remain a post-war phenomenon.



Ethics and post-war climbing


By the late 1940s in Queensland, there were few unclimbed peaks or large rock outcrops left.  This period was marked by the emergence of university climbing and bushwalking clubs.  The first named climbs and climbing guidebooks appeared at this time, coinciding with the banishment of climbing articles from the popular press.  This signalled a significant discursive shift in ways of constituting the climbing landscape.[lxxiii]   As theorists like Demeritt argue, it represents a way of conceiving of nature as ‘both a real material actor and a socially constructed object’.[lxxiv] In many ways, control of this process of representation was relegated to the editors of club newsletters and magazines.  Mainstream newspapers were now interested in climbing only when it complied with post-war news values—accidents, deaths and sensationalism.

While the influence of Bert Salmon remained—he climbed well into his 70s—introduction of ropes and other rudimentary climbing equipment changed the face of Queensland climbing forever.  The introduction of ropes as an integral part of rockclimbing practice represented a significant ethical shift in modern climbing in Queensland.  Eric Dark had long used rope as a safety device in his first ascents of rock faces in the Warrumbungles but Salmon’s influence north of the border was profound.  The use of pitons—metal blades hammered into rock crevices for protection—emerged at this time as part of rockclimbing practice.

The University of Queensland Bushwalking Club was host for a wave of young men and women who focussed on remote, wilderness areas like The Steamers—a formation of rock pillars on the Main Range, east of Warwick.  The first of three incarnations of the Brisbane Rockclimbing Club emerged briefly at this time.  Climbers from both clubs set about putting up bold new routes on the steep east face of Tibrogargan in The Glasshouses requiring the use of climbing equipment and sophisticated rope techniques.[lxxv] One member of this pioneering group, Jon Stephenson, went on to lead major expeditions to the Karakorums, near Pakistan, and participated in the 1957 Trans-Antarctica Expedition.[lxxvi]  Apart from New South Wales, climbing began to spread to other parts of the country.  The 1950s seems to have been a catalyst for the idea of climbing to emerge in the southern States and the West.[lxxvii]

At the close of the 1950s, climbers searched for new and more difficult routes.  One of the most significant was the ascent of the east face of Coonowrin (Crookneck) in 1959 by a party of university climbers, led by Ron Cox.  Cox led a number of new routes on major cliffs of southeast Queensland and was the first to descend the huge east face of Mount Barney, using the new rope techniques and equipment.[lxxviii] In 1966, an expatriate English climber, Les Wood, joined with several local climbers—particularly Donn Groom—to put up a series of difficult routes on cliff-faces in the southeast.  Even today, they are rarely repeated because of their technical difficulty and their unprotected nature.  At the same time, Donn Groom, son of the founder of Binna Burra Lodge in Lamington National Park—Arthur Groom—developed a climbing cliff near the lodge and often partnered Wood on his visionary ascents elsewhere.  When Les Wood moved to Tasmania, a brief lull settled on climbing activity in the southeast. 

Late 1960s, a new wave swept through the climbing community, applying a new ethical approach which rejected the use of pitons for protection in favour of wedged aluminium chocks based on the very latest American-designed equipment.  Much of this climbing gear was manufactured locally until the cost of more sophisticated versions of it made in the United States began to fall.  This new wave emerged at the time of the so-called ‘ecological revolution’ of the 1960s which saw mountains and climbing gaining popular appeal.[lxxix] While this was a movement which was of particular significance in the United States, it had a huge impact in Australia.  The influence and power of popular culture at the time is evident in the names of new climbs which emerged.  Especially influential was the popular music scene, with many climbs able to be accurately dated on name alone—Magical Mystery Tour, Badfinger, Electric Prune, Conquistador are all climbs put up at Mount French during the late 1960s and early 1970s and reflect the dominance of rock music culture.  This link between music and the study of social life is another aspect of climbing culture yet to be undertaken although some have recognised its potential.[lxxx]

South of the border, Sydney-based climbers Bryden Allen and John Ewbank had a powerful influence on climbing ethics, particularly railing against the overuse of expansion bolts drilled into cliff faces for protection.  Ewbank and Allen consistently made first ascents of what were at the time, the hardest routes in Australia in the Blue Mountains and The Warrumbungles.  Debates on the ethical dimensions of climbing raged in what was Australia’s major climbing magazine, Thrutch.  Although published by the Sydney Rockclimbing Club, it featured a round-up of climbing news and issues from across the country.  Ewbank’s approach to the use of more ethically- and environmentally-friendly protection was quickly adopted by climbers from the Brisbane Rockclimbing Club, led by Brisbane stalwart, Rick White.  This phase saw the dominance of new jam-climbing techniques which opened up previously unclimbed cliffs and routes.  Jamming involved climbing vertical and overhanging cracks in cliff faces using wedged fingers, hands and feet rather than relying on ledges as hand and footholds.  White started up a climbing importation business which subsequently grew into one of Australia’s largest commercial venture in outdoor recreation, Mountain Designs. Queensland was once again at the forefront of rockclimbing as a recreation in Australia.  This culminated in the discovery and development of Mount French—a cliff near Boonah—in 1968.  Within three years, it had become Australia’s premier climbing crag with climbers from the UK and the USA visiting regularly to test out the many routes. 

Another key ethical shift in the nature of climbing took place in 1985 with the ‘overnight’ arrival of chalk as a climbing aid in Australia.  Popular amongst North American climbers for some years previously, chalk is used by climbers to absorb sweat from fingers and hands, thus improving their grip on rock surfaces.  It was quickly taken up around the country and by the early 1990s, it was rare indeed to see a climber who did not carry a small bag filled with chalk dust. 

Around the same time as the arrival of chalk, the use of expansion bolts as protective devices on climbs in Queensland began to increase.  This, too, represented a shift in the ethical dimension of climbing which had been established since its very emergence in Queensland.  The ethical debate continues.  Climbing as a cultural practice now boasts many thousands of participants Australia-wide and impacts significantly on cultural policy, particular in relation to issues such as tourism and the environment.  For example, the development of Mount French as a rockclimbing cliff was a major factor in the area being declared a National Park in the 1970s.  The links between climbing and tourism have existed since the 18th century when the popularity of mountaineering began to attract tourists to Chamonix in the French Alps.[lxxxi]

By the early 1990s, ‘sport’ climbing emerged alongside ‘traditional’ or ‘adventure’ climbing.  Largely focussing on gymnasiums, this new approach represented an alternative to the dominance of the era of ‘adventure’ climbing—it was a sport which could be undertaken almost entirely indoors.  Equipment developments have continued at an alarming rate, drawing mainly from the technologies of the United States.  Now, rockclimbing has again attracted media interest but relegated to events such as the ‘Extreme Games’ or the Climbing World Finals—a circuit of sports-climbing events held throughout Europe, attracting television coverage featuring participants who are treated (and paid) like rock stars.[lxxxii]

Climbing as entertainment and spectacle has re-emerged, reclaiming media space but this time as a central element of popular culture.  Within climbing discourse, the central place of ethics as a defining characteristic of climbing has moved to centre stage.



Conclusion


Climbing culture emerged in southeast Queensland out of a range of often competing and contradictory discourses—from Aboriginal creation myths, a unique landscape, the influence of the European idea of climbing and charismatic and visionary local individuals.  The role of the colonial press was crucial in this imagining process with extensive reporting of the activities of local climbers, particularly from the turn of the 20th century.  The 1930s, in particular, represent a defining moment in the evolution of climbing culture in Australia with significant numbers of men and women engaging in practices which framed the development of modern rockclimbing.  This climbing culture seems to have had its genesis in southeast Queensland although the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, can also claim to be a centre of activity from the 1930s.  It is clear from the sketchy evidence available, that the use of ropes for protection was more the norm in the Blue Mountains than in Queensland.  The hardy Queenslanders—influenced by Bert Salmon—shunned the use of ropes except in emergencies.  Perhaps it was the case that Queensland climbing culture placed more emphasis on the social rather than the technical side of climbing.  Maybe it was this important difference that contributed to the greater popularity of climbing in southeast Queensland, particularly amongst women.  This high female participation rate in what is still regarded as a high-risk sport ended with World War I and was not to re-emerge for another 60 years.  These ideas resonate with Kiewa’s study of the community of rockclimbers in southeast Queensland.  She concluded that female rockclimbers tended to place more emphasis on relationships inherent in the climbing process—in other words the social—than on the physical challenge of climbing.  This emphasis on the social aspects of climbing was not so strongly present in the attitudes of the male climbers.  However, the more experienced they were, the more they tended to emphasise the importance of the social.[lxxxiii]

By the end of World War II, coverage of climbing had all but vanished from the news pages of Queensland’s newspapers but re-emerged in niche publications catering for the emerging numbers of bushwalkers and climbers.  A post-war focus on consumerism and nation-building by the popular press meant that climbing as a recreation was featured only in sensational circumstances.  Representations of climbing were relegated to the specialist newsletters and magazines of a growing leisure culture.  So as climbing had become more technical and bold, popular media interest focussed on the failures rather than the successes.  First ascents of new routes were significant only if it meant that new summits were reached and as we have argued here, this had largely been achieved by early in the 20th century. 

While the idea of climbing in Australia was produced from colonial histories, it continues to be socially constructed—imagined in a specific spatial, temporal and subjective context.[lxxxiv]  We suggest that climbing should be seen as a dynamic notion—a set of cultural practices which constitutes rockclimbing ‘landscapes’ and enables climbers to engage in interactive processes like identity/self-construction and camaraderie.[lxxxv]

Our project seeks to begin to make sense of the cultural place of rockclimbing in relation to ideas such as ‘exploration’, ‘recreation’, and ‘diversification’.  It has begun to examine the role of men and women in the development of the contemporary rockclimbing industry.  Climbing itself has become a community cultural activity—one might even argue a culture industry—with its own language, signs, symbols and style.[lxxxvi]  It is in this context that the role of the media in this process becomes important to examine.  The media in all their varied forms represent a cultural resource and a primary discursive site for imagining climbing.[lxxxvii]  The oral histories yet to be gathered potentially offer another rich cultural resource and a further insight into how Australian culture is made.

 


Endnotes

[i] Dan Morgan, ‘It began with the piton.  The challenge to British Rock Climbing in a Post-Modernist Framework’, in Leisure: Modernity, Postmodernity, and Lifestyles, Publication No. 48, ed Ian Henry, Leisure Studies Association, Brighton, 1994, pp. 341-342.
[ii] See the association’s website at www.austclimbinggyms.com.au.
[iii] C. M. Mermier, R. A. Robergs, S. M. Mcminn, and V. H. Hayward, ‘Energy expenditure and physiological responses during indoor rock climbing’, British Journal of Sports Medicine, vol. 31, issue 3, 1997, pp. 224-228.
[iv] S. R. Bollen and V. Wright, ‘Radiographic changes in the hands of rock climbers’, British Journal of Sports Medicine, vol. 28, issue 3, 1994, pp. 185-186.
[v] J. P. Wyatt, G. W. McNaughton and P. T. Grant, ‘A prospective study of rock climbing injuries’, British Journal of Sports Medicine, vol. 30, issue 2, 1996, pp. 148-150; R. Schad, ‘Analysis of climbing accidents’, Accident Prevention and Analysis, no. 32, 2000, pp. 391-396.
[vi] Paul M. Jakus and W. Douglass Shaw, ‘Empirical analysis of rock climbers’ response to hazard warnings’, Risk Analysis, vol. 16, issue 4, 1996, pp. 581-586.
[vii] S. J. Jack and K. R. Ronan, ‘Sensation seeking among high- and low-risk sports participants’, Personality and Individual Differences, no. 25, 1998, pp. 1063-1083.
[viii] P. E. Kelly and D. W. Larson, ‘Effects of rock climbing on populations of presettlement eastern white cedar on cliffs of the Niagara escarpment, Canada’, Conservation Biology, volume 11, issue 5, 1997, pp. 1125-1132; and R. J. Camp and R. L. Knight, ‘Effects of rock climbing on cliff plant communities at Joshua Tree National Park, California’, Conservation Biology, vol. 12, issue 6, 1998, pp. 1302-1306.
[ix] Barbara R. Johnston and Ted Edwards, ‘The commodification of mountaineering’, Annals of Tourism Research, vol. 21, no. 3, 1994, pp. 450-473.
[x] Peter Donnelly, ‘Social climbing: a case study of the changing class structure of rock climbing and mountaineering in Britain’, in Studies in the sociology of Sport, eds A. O Dunleavy, AW Miracle, and CR Rees, Texas Christian University Press, Fort Worth, 1982.
[xi] Lynne Withey, Grand Tours and Cook’s Tours: A history of leisure travel, 1750-1915, Aurum Press, London, 1998, p. 214.
[xii] Alan Tomlinson, ‘Consumer culture and the aura of the commodity’, in Consumption, Identity and Style: marketing, meanings and the packaging of pleasure, ed Alan Tomlinson, Routledge, London, 1990, p. 31.
[xiii] Peter Nettlefold and Elaine Stratford ‘The production of Climbing Landscapes-as-texts’, Australian Geographical Studies, vol. 37, no. 2, 1999, p. 132.
[xiv] Louise Bricknell, ‘Leisure? According to who?’ in Leisure: Modernity, Postmodernity, and Lifestyles, Publication No. 48, ed Ian Henry, Leisure Studies Association, Brighton, 1994, p. 45.
[xv] Jacqueline Kiewa, Climbing to Enchantment: A study of the community of traditional climbers in southeast Queensland, unpublished PhD thesis, Faculty of Business and Commerce, Griffith University, Brisbane, 2000, p. 383.
[xvi] Withey, p. 205.
[xvii] Withey, p. 208; Nettlefold and Stratford, p. 131.
[xviii] Michael Real, Supermedia, Sage, Newbury Park, 1989; Nettlefold and Stratford, p. 131.
[xix] N. C. Stevens, Queensland Field Geology Guide, Brisbane, Geological Society of Australia (Queensland Division), 1984.
[xx] Lawrence Grossberg, ‘Cultural Studies’, a keynote address at the International Communication Association annual conference, Sydney, 11-15 July, 1994.
[xxi] , John G. Steele, Aboriginal Pathways in Southeast Queensland and the Richmond River, University of Queensland Press, Brisbane, 1984.
[xxii] Reginald Wise, ‘A climb up Coonowrim (sic)’, Queenslander, 23 September, 1916, pp. 21, 29; Steele, p. 174; Michelle Grossman and Denise Cuthbert, ‘Forgetting Redfern: Aboriginality in the New Age’, Meanjin, 4, 1998, pp.770-778.
[xxiii] Arthur Groom, ‘Mount Barney’s Legend’, Brisbane Courier, 19 November, 1932, p.19.
[xxiv] J. D. Lang, Queensland Australia, 1861.
[xxv] Lang 1861; Mary E. Murrray-Prior, ‘An ascent of Mount Lindsay (sic)’, Queenslander, 1 November. 1902; William Gaylard, ‘Mount Lindsay (sic): story of a successful climb—some tense moments’, Brisbane Courier, 2 August, 1913, p. 12.; N. C. Hewitt, ‘Mt Lindesay fatality: former ascents recalled’, Beaudesert Times, 25 January 1929.
[xxvi] Murray Prior 1902; ‘Traveller’, ‘Mt Lindesay’, Brisbane Courier, 3 October, 1923.
[xxvii] See F. W. Whitehouse, ‘Early ascents of the Glasshouses’, Heybob, vol. 8, 1966, p. 74; Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, Verso, London, 1984.
[xxviii] This idea of discourse is drawn from Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, Tavistock, London, 1972.
[xxix] John Cleare, Mountains of the World, Crown, New York, 1975, p. 16-17.
[xxx] Alan Tomlinson and Helen Walker, ‘Holidays for all: popular movements, collective leisure, and the pleasure industry’, in Consumption, Identity and Style, ed A. Tomlinson, Routledge, London, 1990, p. 233.
[xxxi] ‘The Mania For Alpine Climbing’, Queenslander, 29 December 1866.
[xxxii] ‘The Southern Border’, Queenslander, 1 April 1871.
[xxxiii] ‘Ascent of Mount Lindsay’, Brisbane Courier, 18 May 1872.
[xxxiv] ‘A Trip Up Mount Barney’, Queenslander, 6 November 1886.
[xxxv] ‘To the Top of the Glass Mountains’, Queenslander, 12 June 1886.
[xxxvi] ‘Ascent of Mount Lindsay’, Queenslander, 26 July 1890.  A brief initial report appeared in the Brisbane Courier, 14 July 1890.
[xxxvii] ‘Ascent of Mount Lindsay’, Brisbane Courier, 15 July 1890; Brisbane Courier, 19 July 1890; Brisbane Observer (the evening ‘Courier’), 26 July 1890.
[xxxviii] ‘A Day Amongst the Clouds’, Queenslander, 12 May 1894.
[xxxix] ‘Where Three Rivers Rise’, Queenslander, 28 February 1895.
[xl] ‘Mount Bellenden-Ker’, Queenslander, 9 July 1887.
[xli] ‘A Climb on Hinchinbrook’, Queenslander, 30 December 1893.
[xlii] ‘Bellenden-Ker—A Successful Ascent’, Queenslander, 27 November 1897.
[xliii] ‘The Ascent of Peter Botte’, Queenslander, 1 May 1897.
[xliv] ‘The Bellenden-Ker Expedition’, Queenslander, 12 October 1889.
[xlv] ‘Revisiting Bellenden-Ker’, Queenslander, 27 February 1892.
[xlvi] ‘Wild Country and Wild Tribes XIV’, Queenslander, 10 April 1897.
[xlvii] ‘Kilima-Njaro Conquered at Last’, Queenslander, 14 January 1888.
[xlviii] ‘Ascent of Mount Owen Stanley’, Queenslander, 20 July 1889.
[xlix] ‘Climbing in the New Zealand Alps’, Queenslander, 31 October 1896.
[l] ‘Mountaineering in Africa’, Queenslander, 3 April 1897.
[li] ‘Ascent of Mt Elias’, Queenslander, 4 December 1897.
[lii] ‘An Ascent of Mount Lindsay’, Queenslander, 1 November 1902; ‘Climbing Mount Lindsay’, Queenslander, 23 January 1904; ‘Successful Ascent of Mt Lindsay’, Brisbane Courier, 19 May 1910; ‘Mount Lindsay—Story of a Successful Climb’, Brisbane Courier, 2 August 1913.
[liii] ‘An Ascent of Mount Barney’, Queenslander, 15 October 1904; ‘A Climb Up Mount Barney’, Queenslander, 20 June 1914.
[liv] ‘Alpine Climbers’, Blue Mountain Echo, 17 January 1919.
[lv] ‘Crookneck Climbed By Two Sturdy Queenslanders’, Queenslander, 18 March 1911.
[lvi] ‘A Week-end at Glass-House Mountains’, Queenslander, 1 June 1912.
[lvii] ‘Fresh Worlds to Conquer’, Fassifern Guardian, 14 June 1912.
[lviii] ‘Ascent of Mount Lindesay’, Brisbane Courier, 19 July 1890; ‘Ascent of Mt Lindsay’, Queenslander, 1 November 1902; ‘Mount Lindsay—records of Ascents’, Brisbane Courier, 6 October 1923.
[lix] ‘Climbing Mount Lindsay’, Queenslander, 23 January 1904.
[lx] ‘Ascent of Mount Lindsay’, Brisbane Courier, Queenslander, 1 June 1910; ‘The Ascent of Mt Lindsay’, Queenslander, 4 June 1910.
[lxi] ‘A Week-end at Glass-House mountains’, Brisbane Courier, 1 June 1912.
[lxii] ‘The Mania For Alpine Climbing’, Queenslander, 29 December 1866.
[lxiii] ‘Wild Country and Wild Tribes’, Queenslander, 10 April 1897.
[lxiv] See ‘To the Top of the Glass Mountains’, Queenslander, 12 June 1886 and the various ‘Wayfarers’’ reports, including ‘Ascent of Wilson’s Peak’, Fassifern Guardian, 8 August 1910.
[lxv] Examples include ‘A Cruise Round Moreton Bay’, Queenslander, 29 March 1873, and ‘Cycling Trip—Warwick to Cunnamulla’, Queenslander, 17 July 1909.
[lxvi] Examples include ‘Mountain Climbing is Great Fun’, Sunday Mail, 29 May 1932, ‘Up Among the Peaks—Joys of Mountaineering’, Telegraph, 29 March 1934, and ‘Let’s Go Mountaineering’, Queenslander Annual, 4 November 1935.
[lxvii] Clem Lack, ‘Mountain Climbers of Queensland’, The Sunday Mail Magazine Section, 10 July 1938.
[lxviii] Lack, 1938.
[lxix] C. C. D. Brammall, ‘Australia’s strangest mountains: The Glass House Mountains of Queensland’, Walkabout, 1 February 1939, pp.38-41.
[lxx] Kiewa, 2000, p. 398.
[lxxi] Pierre Bourdieu, ‘Sport and Social Class’, Social Science Information, vol. 17, part. 6, 1978; and ‘How can one be a sports fan?’, in The Cultural Studies Reader, ed S. During, Routledge, London, 1993.
[lxxii] Nina Lowe, ‘Rock-climbing: A health-giving sport for Women’, The Australian Woman’s Mirror, December 22 1931, p. 22.
[lxxiii] Nettlefold and Stratford, p. 137.
[lxxiv] D. Demeritt, ‘The nature of metaphors in cultural geography and environmental history’, Progress in Human Geography, vol. 18, issue 2, 1994, pp. 163-185.
[lxxv] Bob Waring, ‘First ascents of the Steamers’, Heybob, vol. 5, 1963, pp. 3-6.; Alan Frost, ‘Some less frequently tried scrambles in the Glasshouses’, Heybob, vol. 5, 1964, pp. 49-51.
[lxxvi] Keith J Miller, ‘Return to the Himalayas’, Heybob, vol. 5, 1964, pp. 16-19.
[lxxvii] David John James, Climb when ready, Hesperian Press, Victoria Park, 1996; Chris Baxter, Editorial in Rock, no. 40, 1999, p. 3.
[lxxviii] Graham Hardy, ‘A long abseil’, Heybob, vol. 5, 1963, pp. 79-72.
[lxxix] Cleare, p. 96.
[lxxx] L. Kong, ‘Popular music in geographic analysis’, Progress in Human Geography, vol. 19, issue 2, 1995, pp. 183-198; S. J. Smith, ‘Beyond geography’s visible worlds: a cultural politics of music’, Progress in Human Geography, vol. 21, issue 4, 1997, pp. 502-529.
[lxxxi] Withey, p. 205.
[lxxxii] Morgan, pp. 341-342.
[lxxxiii] Kiewa, pp. 412-413.
[lxxxiv] See Withey, p. 205 and Bricknell, p. 45.
[lxxxv] Kiewa, p. 383; Aviv Shoham, Gregory M. Rose and Lynn R. Kahle, ‘Practitioners of Risky Sports: A Quantitative Examination’, Journal of Business Research, no. 47, 2000, p. 248.
[lxxxvi] Dick Hebdige, Subculture: the meaning of style, Methuen, London, 1979.
[lxxxvii] Antonio Gramsci, A Gramsci Reader: Selected Writings 1916-1935, ed David Forgacs, Lawrence and Wishart, London, 1988; Renate Holub, Antonio Gramsci: Beyond Marxism and Postmodernism, Routledge, London, 1992.

Newspapers and rockclimbing in Queensland



The changing role of Queensland newspapers in imagining leisure and recreation



 

Possibly the earliest newspaper images of climbing published in Australia: the first known women to climb Crookneck, Sara, Jenny and Etty Clark are pictured with two of three male companions on the summit in 1912. The absent figure was photographer, George Rowley (Queenslander 8 June 1912).

The first detailed article I wrote following four years of archival research into newspaper representations of rockclimbing in Queensland and beyond was published in the online journal ejournalist in 2001. Please visit the site and download  it (free) by clicking on the following link: The changing role of Queensland newspapers in imagining leisure and recreation.



Crux columns: climbing wars--or Victoria versus the rest!

-->
Climbing wars — or Victoria versus the rest!

Far be it for me to fan the flames of interstate rivalry on the rock but our rockclimbing history does include periods of character building that seem to be less prominent in the climbing scene today. For many at the time, it was simply part of what 60s American climber and philosopher Lito Tejada-Flores called the ‘games climbers play’. Climbers, he argues, determine the rules that govern activity on the rock. And off the rock? Well, you be the judge.




During the 1960s, the emergence of the clean-climbing, hard-hitting John Ewbank saw the pages of the national climbing magazine, Thrutch, often filled with bitter recriminations, usually following one of his acerbic articles on ethics. Comments in his 1970 Supplement to Rock Climbs in the Blue Mountains are typical of his feelings about the bolting brigade and the state of local cliffs: ‘This great legacy of rusting steel is an unfortunate hangover of the “Golden Age of Bolting” when every man and his dog was placing bolts with missionary zeal in every section of unbolted cliff he could get his drill tip into.’ Flicking through recent copies of Rock, this sounds strangely familiar.

Oblivious of this, Rick White, Chris Meadows and Greg Sheard headed south to the Blue Mountains in January 1969 to hone their jamBing skills following the discovery of Frog Buttress a few months earlier. Sheard recalls the scene that confronted them: ‘There were bolts everywhere and we decided to chop a few. Then we went to a Sydney Rockclimbing Club meeting and Chris had a few drinks. And next thing, some guy turned up and introduced himself as the Safety Officer. He was a bit stroppy and Chris was understandably a bit put off and was going to have a severe discussion with this guy’s head using both of his fists.’ It was not a good start to fostering cordial interstate relations.

Around this time, a ‘Victoria versus the rest’ conflict emerged. Veteran Queensland climber Ian Thomas — who, incidentally, now lives in Victoria — has a simple explanation: ‘Because Victorians were incredibly up themselves.’ Whatever the reason, the Victorian faction was led by a vociferous Chris Baxter — dubbed ‘Radio Australia’ by his then adversary and jamBing el supremo, Rick White. One focus of disagreement was the Arapiles classic, The Rack, put up by Ewbank and graded 18. Despite their best efforts, the Victorians literally fell about trying to climb it, claiming it had been deliberately undergraded. When visiting South African Iain Allen sailed up it confirming Ewbank’s grade, the silence was deafening — except from north of the Victorian border, that is! To rub it in, Rick White put together a home movie of him ripping up the demanding Frog Buttress classic, Odin, flaunting his obvious jamBing expertise to the throbbing music of Deep Purple! But it was more like a red rag to a bull when it premiered in Victoria. 


‘There was the absurd interstate rivalry between Victoria and New South Wales and Victoria and Queensland,’ Chris Baxter recalled. ‘And a lot of that was due to the lack of contact. It was childish on all sides. I suppose it was taken seriously and the letters would fly back and forwards through Thrutch and that would trigger it off. And there’d be raiding parties down to free Victorian routes or free NSW routes or whatever it was…’

In the early 1970s, White put up what he claimed as the hardest aid route in the country, The Antichrist, M6, on Mount Maroon. Within weeks, Chris Dewhirst and Peter McKeand put up Lord Gumtree at Mt Buffalo in Victoria, grading it M7 — it was the hardest in the country. White and a youthful Robert ‘Squeak’ Staszewski immediately drove to Buffalo, climbed Lord Gumtree, announcing that it was barely M6! The columns of Thrutch were smoking as the insults and accusations flew!

Ian ‘Humzoo’ Thomas was an emerging star at the time and recalls reading about the interstate rivalry in the Brisbane Rockclimbing Club magazine well before he met any of the protagonists: ‘I remember pissing myself laughing at articles by Greg Sheard about him chopping bolts in the Blue Mountains. So in ‘71 when Squeak and I went down there, the first thing we did was not climbing, but we got our hammers out and chopped bolts. It just seemed to be the thing to do!’ With the hostilities at their peak, Thomas was only too happy to turn up the heat, as Rick White recalled: ‘His offhand reference to Grampians classics as “loose, crumbly lines on Mt Crumblebar in the Crapians” did little to improve interstate relations.’

Humzoo (Ian Thomas) climbing in the Warrumbungles around 1975 (Keith Bell collection).
Early in 1973, simmering interstate climbing rivalries reached fever pitch. Thrutch published a letter from a disgruntled reader, cancelling his subscription and accusing the magazine of becoming an ‘ego tripper’s soapbox and…an editorial policy seemingly devoted to fostering interstate squabbles’. He had a good point — in the same issue, Queenslander Trevor Gynther complained about ‘specialists’ downgrading certain climbs at Frog Buttress — namely The Nemesis; Chris Baxter whinged about inaccuracies in the publication in not mentioning that Rick White had used a top rope on his recent climb of Lord Gumtree; and Staszewski accused the Victorians of over-bolting climbs at Mt Buffalo. White had had enough and refused to write anything for a climbing magazine for the next 20 years!

The tension between Victorian climbers and the rest was palpable at the Easter 1973 climbing meet at Porter’s Pass in the Blue Mountains. A Victorian climbing delegation attempted Flake Crack at Wirindi, failing in front of the assembled gladiatorial mob of Queensland and New South Wales climbers, then promptly got into their cars and drove home in disgust.

But all’s well that ends well. John Ewbank became a musician; Rick White and Chris Baxter patched up their differences and became good friends; Greg Sheard concentrated on giving up smoking; and Ian Thomas still thinks Victorians are up themselves. And interstate climbing rivalry was never heard of again. Well, almost.

(First published in the Australasian Climbing Journal, Crux Number 5)


Crux columns: transport trauma

-->
Transport trauma

From the very first time that climbers were lured onto the heights the issue of transport to and from crags has been a significant one. Before the widespread use of cars in Australia around the late 1920s and throughout the 1930s, climbers resorted to more simple means of travel. The earliest recorded ascents of mountains in Australia usually involved the use of horses to get close enough to the destination. For example, Patrick Logan rode to the base of Mount Barney to make the first European ascent in 1828. At the time it was the highest-known peak in the country.

An early climbing party returns from Mount Lindesay (background), Christmas 1933 (A. A. Salmon collection).
Almost a century later, one attempt to reach the base of the Steamers – a rhyolite complex of pinnacles near Warwick in southeast Queensland -- resulted in the would-be climber being attacked by ‘numberless eaglehawks’ that swooped on him from above. Perhaps it was one reason the Steamers remained unclimbed until 1950 despite a reputed 100 pounds reward for a first ascent being offered by a Warwick businessman. The first climbers to stand on the summit -- Bob Waring and Jon Stephenson – got there by motorbike. Despite their achievement, they never received the reward.

But before the postwar climbing boom in the early 1950s, the 1930s crowd relied more on their initiative and endurance. Bert Salmon and Lyle Vidler made the first ascent of Egg Rock in the Gold Coast hinterland in 1928 after catching a train to Nerang, then walking 40 kilometres to the pinnacle, climbing it and walking back to the station. All part of a good weekend out! Much earlier, the hardy Clark sisters had cycled 70 kilometres back to Brisbane on the same day they made the first female ascent of Crookneck in the Glasshouses in 1912! 


Raoul Mellish chats to a local farmer near Mount Barney with Bob Waring's Indian motorcycle in the foreground. Waring was on his way to make the first traverse of an exposed ledge on Leaning Peak, 1949 (Raoul Mellish collection).


A common form of postwar transport for members of the short-lived Queensland Climbing Club in 1950 were motorbikes. And the bold Bob Waring was perhaps a standout here. Not content with mere ownership of a convenient form of transport, he insisted on testing its ability to get there as fast as possible. He was a daring climber, soloing several first ascents in the Steamers and on Mount Barney – routes that modern climbers have backed off even with the array of modern equipment available.  Waring left Australia to work as an engineer overseas in the mid-50s and entered the famous TT motorcycle race around the Isle of Wight. He was in third place and was outraged when his bike expired.

Another daring duo from Queensland during the late 1940s and early 1950s was Peter Barnes and Alan Frost. They were both super fit and could climb at an extraordinary speed. Frost was the first to climb all seven peaks of the huge expanse of Mount Barney in a day. They’d think nothing of jumping on Barnes’ old Indian motorbike and riding off at 10 o’clock at night to climb one of the Glasshouses by moonlight.

Despite the onset of the sixties, it seemed that the cars of the 1950s ruled. It probably had something to do with their cost but virtually all of the new wave of climbers who emerged in Queensland in the late 1960s seemed to have old cars, and more often than not, French ones! Rick White destroyed his Morris 1100 in a few months driving up the cobblestone track to the newly-discovered Frog Buttress. He moved ‘up’ to a 1952 Riley – which he drove to the Blue Mountains and back -- then to a 1948 Citroen Light 15. meanwhile, Ted Cais’s obsession with motorbikes – a CZ, various Japanese models and a restored Velocette Clubman – was broken when he lapsed into a Peugeot phase with 203 and 403 models suffering under his relentless pursuit of perfection, not only on the rock. 

A rudimentary rack on the bonnet of John Shera's Mazda 800 en route to The Glass Houses in 1968
(Michael Meadows collection).
Perhaps following the tradition set by the rapid Bob Waring, there has always seemed to be an unusual urgency amongst climbers in getting to the climbs. In Queensland, perhaps it was the influence of competing in car rallies by climbers like my brother Chris Meadows, John Shera  and myself, but the last few kilometres into a crag, on dirt, always seemed to be particularly exhilerating.

But the mantle for the most outrageous climber-driver of that era in Queensland at least was the inimitable Greg Sheard. The proud owner of an ageing black Hillman Minx, Sheard used his doubtful mechanical skills to extract an unreasonable amount of power from the small, inefficient engine and believed that both he and the car were indestructible. He was almost right. Sheardie took many spectacular falls as a bold lead climber in the late 1960s in his frenzied efforts to be the first to eliminate aid from the hardest climbs in Queensland at the time. He still believes Rick White kept the secret of Frog Buttress from him for months because he was convinced Sheardie would try to remove the aid moves in the early ascents there. 

Sheardie (pictured left giving up smoking in 1968) once drove his car almost to the base of the classic climb, East Crookneck, defying logic and gleefully leaving an ageing landrover wallowing behind him. His secret was speed – at all times and in all circumstances. We often spent more time making roadside repairs to the Sheard Hillman on the way to a climb than on the climb itself. But all good things come to and end.  The moment Sheardie announced that he had ordered a brand new Torana, tweaked to his personal specifications, the Hillman was fair game. Ted Cais was first to strike painting a swastika on the doors and the slogan, ‘Hitler is king! along one side. Needless to say, within hours, the Hillman was pulled over by police – even Queensland cops couldn’t miss that – and the car was ordered off the road. When  Sheard, again foolishly, made this announcement at a Kangaroo Point climbing afternoon, I decided to test out a theory of mine and dropped a 100 kg section of railway line from the cliff top onto his boot. As I suspected, it crashed straight through!  Following that episode, even the wreckers wouldn’t take it so he dismembered the car with an axe.

It was all part of climbing – and still is, of course. Perhaps not the axe.


(First published in the Australasian Climbing Journal, Crux Number 4)

Crux columns: women with attitude

Women with attitude



The largest to climb Crookneck in The Glass House Mountains on 'Salmon's Leap', 1933 (Cliff and Lexie Wilson collection).
 
Browsing through the plethora of multimedia climbing images available today it’s clear that women are increasingly making their mark on Australian crags. The current surge in female climbing activity in Australia began around the early 1990s with the popularisation of indoor sport climbing, gradually extending into all forms of the activity since. But women’s attraction for high places began in eastern Australia more than a century ago. During the 1930s, the number of women climbing—particularly in Queensland—roughly equalled that of their male counterparts. After World War II in Queensland, women all but vanished from the climbing scene—Australia was embroiled in era of nation-building and women’s place, it seemed, was anywhere but in the mountains or on the rock.

Australia’s pioneering female climbers had plenty of international role models. Henriette d’Angeville was 45 when she became the first woman to climb Mont Blanc in 1838. Despite her achievement being denounced as ‘unfeminine and plain dangerous’, she inspired generations of female climbers to challenge the prevailing viewpoint that women did not climb. By the 1850s, women in Europe and the United States had established themselves firmly as highly competent climbers, but they still climbed with men. It wasn’t until 1900 that the outstanding British climber-photographer, Elizabeth Aubrey Le Blond, made the first ‘manless’ ascent in the Alps—and it quickly caught on. Le Blond also pioneered winter climbing for women and was instrumental in starting the Ladies Alpine Club in 1907. Women in this era climbed in ‘voluminous skirts’ but by the 1880s, a pioneering few began to discard them after leaving mountain huts, climbing in riding breeches, although dressing for their return to ‘the civilised world’. The popularity of active sports like mountaineering, walking and cycling in Europe prompted a new wave of ‘athletic’ fashions for women to sweep into Australia in the form of the ‘Velocipedienne’ skirt—while riding a bicycle, women could undo a section of the garment, extending it so as to conceal the feet and ankles. 




The European influence on local climbers was clear. In 1894, Queensland adventurer, John Hardcastle, found a bottle with 17 names listed inside on the summit of Wilson’s Peak, at the southern end of the Main Range and observed: ‘The fact that five girls, whose ages range from 15 to 21 years, reached the top of this great peak shows that the natives are not far behind their sisters of other countries in mountaineering as it requires far more than the average woman’s nerve to make the ascent of this mountain.’

In 1908, Australia’s first mountaineer, 26 year old Sydney climber Emmeline Freda Du Faur, stood on a pass below the summit of New Zealand’s highest peak and was inspired: ‘Then and there I decided I would be a real mountaineer, and some day be the first woman to climb Mount Cook.’ Two years later Du Faur achieved her goal. She grew up with Kuringai Chase in Sydney as her backyard and practised rockclimbing on the many sandstone outcrops there. She also worked out in the Dupain Institute for Physical Fitness—one of the earliest known instances of any climber training in this way. Two years after her historic ascent of Mt Cook, Du Faur made the first Mt Cook-Mt Tasman traverse with brothers Peter and Alex Graham. In the same year, the first women—Jenny, Sara, and Etty Clark—stood on the summit of Crookneck in southeast Queensland. Etty attempted Crookneck a second time 36 years later and managed to get about halfway up the climb, reflecting: ‘When I climbed to the top in 1912, we girls took off our skirts and finished the climb in knee-length bloomers. They didn’t have shorts in those days.’

Women’s involvement with climbing in Australia began in earnest after World War I. But even in 1925, ankle-length skirts remained the usual climbing attire for women. Within a few years, a remarkable change would free women of the long garments that had plagued them from the time of their very first steps into the mountains. By the end of the 1920s, women were climbing in shorts and sandshoes and setting the trend that continues, albeit with some modifications, to this day.

From the late 1920s until World War II, an extraordinary mass climbing movement emerged in Queensland, inspired by the enigmatic Bert Salmon. It involved large numbers of women who made the most difficult ascents known at that time. The era began when Jean Easton and Doris Williams became the first women to climb Caves Route on the east face of Tibrogargan in 1928. For 20-year-old Easton, it was the first step towards becoming one of Queensland’s most accomplished sportswomen and one of the State’s leading climbers in the 1930s. Following her daring ascent, Easton observed: ‘At no stage of the ascent was a rope used but at times, real thrills were experienced when substantial handholds and footholds were lacking.’ The Queensland female climbing coterie soon attracted national attention with the magazine, Walkabout, concluding that ‘women are good climbers, and as novices give less trouble than men’.

The formidable summit of Mt Lindesay on the Qld-NSW border was the next to succumb in 1931 when Easton, 22, and Nora Dimes, 21, reached the summit, accompanied by the irrepressible Salmon. The event caused a stir in nearby Beaudesert with the local newspaper lauding their achievement: ‘Great praise is due to the abovementioned ladies on their successful feat as they are the first ladies to ever conquer this formidable mountain of rock which Mr Salmon states is second to none in Queensland from a climbers standpoint.’ In the same year, rockclimbing was praised as a ‘health-giving sport for women’ by the Women’s Weekly, featuring novelist Eleanor Dark (Eric’s wife) in action on the Katoomba sandstone. Rockclimbing in the Blue Mountains around this time was popular although it was not quite the mass movement north of the border.

Queensland climber Muriel Patten becomes the first women to climb the First Sister, Katoomba, 1934. Bert Salmon is above her as both solo the climb (A. A. Salmon collection).
 With a female climbing culture firmly established in Queensland by the early 1930s, January 1934 saw 16 Queenslanders—including 7 women—travelling to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains on a ‘rock-climbing holiday’. Early one Sunday morning, with 300 people watching from a nearby lookout, Bert Salmon and 21 year old Muriel Patten climbed the first of the Three Sisters, unroped. It was the first female ascent and the Katoomba Daily was impressed: ‘Miss Muriel Patten, a petite and daring Brisbane girl, claims a record: that she is the only woman to scale the first of the Three Sisters. One section of this climb is extremely difficult and hazardous: particularly for a lady.’ When Muriel Patten returned to Brisbane, she was a celebrity, with the Courier-Mail reproducing the story of her success: ‘Miss Patten yesterday laughed at the idea of nervousness on these expeditions, although she confessed that she has had to acquire the climbing taste. She has long since lost the neophyte’s nervousness in daring expeditions to the top of Crook-neck (Glasshouse), Mt Barney, and Mt Lindesay. Now she is looking round for other crags to conquer.’

This publicity probably spurred her good friend, Jean Easton, into action. Shortly after dawn on the 11 March that same year, she made the second female ascent of the 1st Sister, climbing with two of the Blue Mountaineers. Easton, described as being ‘of slight athletic build’ and ‘one of the best lady mountaineers in the state’, apologised to readers of the Courier-Mail that although she had been climbing for five years and had never used ropes except on the 1st Sister, it was mainly ‘because her male companions were not acquainted with her capabilities as a mountaineer’. And her reason for climbing? ‘There is a thrill in seeing a view with which few other people have had the opportunity of becoming acquainted.’

Queensland’s climbing women had become big news. A full-page story in the Truth in 1934 featured glamorous studio photographs of these ‘modern maids of the mountain’. The story explained they were all members of a climbing club, started by Bert Salmon in 1926. ‘There are 15 girls attached to the club, among whom are several very capable and daring climbers,’ the article exclaimed. ‘Miss Easton probably has done more mountaineering than any girl in Brisbane. She and a girl companion were the first two girls to reach the summit of Mount Lindesay (4300 feet) and holds a similar honour in connection with the treacherous eastern face of Tibrogargan (Glass House group).’ The newspaper recounted Easton’s and Patten’s pioneering Katoomba climbs and undoubtedly fanned the flames of interstate rivalry, concluding: ‘This exploit astonished the less adventurous Southerners, who have not taken mountaineering so seriously, and did not realise that the Queensland girls have left the rest of Australia far behind in this exacting and exciting sport.’ 

Jean Easton (above) and Muriel Patten on the east face of Tibrogargan in The Glass Houses in 1934
(Cliff and Lexie Wilson collection).
World War II saw women virtually disappear from the rockclimbing scene around Australia although female membership of postwar bushwalking clubs offered an alternative. The Melbourne University Mountaineering Club in 1947 was the first postwar climbing club in Australia with the Brisbane Climbing Club (1950), the Sydney Rockclimbing Club (1951) and the Victorian Climbing Club (1952) following suit. While influential women were most certainly involved in the early days of postwar climbing in Australia, they were few in number.

The experiences of two young women, Bernice Noonan and Margaret Hammond, in Queensland in the early 1950s perhaps typify those who persisted despite the odds. The two friends would sometimes hitch from Brisbane to the Glasshouse Mountains for a climbing weekend. Bernice Noonan remembers the equipment she used was minimal: ‘We bought a rope, one rope, for the lot of us to use, and we had one carabiner. My son just shrieks with mirth at that,’ she laughs. Despite being vastly outnumbered by male climbers at the time, she felt at ease climbing with the boys: ‘I didn’t feel that the men were superior or that there was a difference because of the sexes. I never felt that at all.’

It is an attitude by women towards climbing that had its genesis more than a century ago in the European Alps—and clearly it persists today. And perhaps Bernice Noonan’s words best sum up what it’s all about—for women, at least. ‘I just felt we were all on the same level,’ she says. ‘We were all experiencing a good sport and we all enjoyed it and unless we all pulled together we weren’t going to get there.’ It seems abundantly clear that women have well and truly reclaimed their place in the Australian climbing scene.


(First published in the Australasian Climbing Journal, Crux Number 3)


Crux columns: ghosts and The Glass Houses

Ghosts and The Glass Houses

The 300 metre high peak, Crookneck, in the Glass House Mountains north of Brisbane was one of the last summits in Australia to be claimed by Europeans. In 1886, Queensland explorer and climber Thomas Welsby described ‘a great falling away of stone’ on the east face of the mountain. Seven years later in 1893, the Royal Society of Queensland heard details of another landslide revealing ‘a huge fissure’ following a sustained period of heavy rain that caused massive flooding in Brisbane. And so the climb known today known as East Crookneck was born. But it would be more than half a century before climbers seriously considered the east face as a possible ascent route.

The mountain, called Coonowrin by the Kabi Kabi people, has always been an object of fascination for Europeans. Towards the end of the 19th century, speculation on the possibility of someone climbing the peak was rife with one local sage insisting: ‘It has always been said by old bushmen that Crookneck cannot be surmounted.’ Another scribe in 1885 made a bold prediction—curiously accurate, as it turned out: ‘I don’t doubt that when the railway makes these [mountains] within reach of the Brisbane tourist, many will try then ascend, but without engineering skill being brought to help it will not be done.’ Pragmatic local explorer William Landsborough simply reminded them that if the mountain was in England ‘it would have been climbed a dozen times’.





But it wasn’t until 1910 that 23-year-old local lad Henry Mikalsen (pictured above) made the first ascent, solo, up the treacherous, loose north face. ‘The feat was not accomplished without difficulty and danger,’ the Brisbane Courier reported. ’The trip took about three hours from start to finish, and as his home is at the foot of the mountain, he was watched with anxious eyes and could be seen the whole time.’ Pioneer climber Bert Salmon always referred to this first ascent of Crookneck as the birth of modern climbing in Australia.




 Two years later, on Empire Day 1912, three sisters—Jenny, Sara and Etty Clark—became the first women to reach the elusive summit, climbing a new route on the southern side now known as Clark’s Gully. It is one of the earliest recorded instances in Australia of the now accepted technique of belaying. One of the Clark sisters tested out the system unexpectedly, as this account of the climb suggests: ‘As she stepped off onto another little corner the rock gave way and left her swinging for a moment in mid-air, some 100 ft above the ground. Fortunately, the rope was good, and in strong hands, and she soon gained a fresh foothold and she soon clambered into safety.’ Etty Clark managed to get halfway up the climb, 36 years later, observing: ‘When I climbed to the top…we girls took off our skirts and finished the climb in knee-length bloomers. They didn’t have shorts in those days.’

In the early 1920s, Philip Webster and his brothers, Tom, George and the ‘partially handicapped’ Norman, found a new climb on the south side of Crookneck which follows most of the existing Salmon’s Leap or tourist route. Strangely, this is the only climbing route in southeast Queensland bearing Salmon’s name, but it is one he never claimed. During the 1930s, with climbing booming in southeast Queensland, Crookneck was one of the favoured destinations. On one trip in September 1934, Salmon took a record group of 26 people up the mountain, encouraged by the irrepressible George Fraser playing ‘Highland airs’ on his bagpipes from the summit! Around this time, Salmon and another 30’s stalwart, Cliff Wilson, made an extraordinary first descent of west Crookneck.

The first serious attempts to climb the east face began in 1950 when Bob Waring and another University of Queensland student, Jim Gadalof, abseiled down the fiercely overhanging route. They had no abseil devices—not even a carabiner—adopting the classic method for the painful 75 metre descent. Waring discussed the possibility of climbing the face with John Comino, a co-founder of the University of Queensland Bushwalking Club (UQBWC). Comino abseiled down to a small ledge, dubbed the ‘Eagle’s Eyrie’, and climbed what would eventually be the last pitch of the route. But the real problem was what lay below.

This was the challenge for university physics student Ron Cox who began his drawn-out project to climb the face in June 1959. Cox read Guido Magnone’s 1955 book, The West face of the Dru, and was inspired to apply the same techniques. ‘That was the great era of artificial climbing in the Alps,’ Cox recalls, ‘and reading that and other books and magazines I became very interested in artificial climbing which had its apogee at that time. So that’s how we started doing that sort of thing.’ He teamed up with UQBWC friend Pat Conaghan and the two set about making their own gear for an attempt on East Crookneck—etriers and wooden wedges in Cox’s father’s furniture factory, and pitons cut from steel plate. Cox recalls the pitons were flat with no wedge: ‘I remember on one occasion going to a guy who had a little forge in Margaret Street—unimaginable now—and I gave him some of these pitons and got him to hammer a taper into them. I remember using one of these on East Crookneck and the head snapped straight off!’

Ron Cox engaged in the assault on the east face of Crookneck,
The Glass House Mountains, 1959 (Pat Conaghan collection).

Cox found ‘great piles of ironmongery sitting at the foot of the cliff—big spikes, 30 cms long’— perhaps evidence of previous attempts. Climbing on weekends and belayed by a range of partners, Cox slowly advanced up the route over the next three months. ‘It was vertical: that’s the essential thing’, he recalls. ‘And in a sense, to that point in Queensland, we were climbing things that weren’t vertical that had a bit of a slope.’ It was arguably the first serious application of double rope, aid climbing techniques in the country. Although he had adopted the European approach, he still imposed ethical limits, rejecting the use of bolts ‘because they made anything possible’.

Cox had quickly established himself as one of the best—and safest—climbers in the Brisbane-based cohort and had already made his mark on the cliffs at Kangaroo Point, climbing the route now known as Cox’s Overhang on a top rope, early in 1959. Described by Comino as ‘built like a bloody spider’, Cox was one of the few at that time who could climb the overhang free. The climb was probably the hardest in Queensland. Comino remembers being impressed by Cox climbing the route and then being challenged to have a go himself—on a top rope: ‘Anyway I got up there and after that I think Ron thought, “Well, this fellow can climb” and that’s probably what caused him to look me up about Crookneck some time later.’

Pat Conaghan bivvying during the first ascent of the east face of Crookneck in 1959 (Pat Conaghan collection).

Following his 7th attempt on East Crookneck and with just 25 metres of the route left, Cox decided it was time for a first ascent push. He asked Comino to come out of retirement to join Conaghan and himself and the trio gathered below the face on 18 September. Cox reached his previous high point in about three hours and called for Comino to follow. Conaghan described the experience in the 1960 edition of the UQBWC magazine, Heybob: ‘Comino had not climbed artificially and for a while was floundering in the technicalities. Adjectival phrases floated down consistently and at one stage, having already discarded his hat, he threatened to throw his etriers away too. He was soon, however, heard quietly praising the possibilities and efficiency of these mechanical contrivances and by late afternoon had joined Ron on the ledge.’ The stance was just big enough for two people and with the light fading, Cox and Comino set up a bivvy. ‘I retired to my own little protected ledge under a large roof near the start of the climb,’ Conaghan recalls. ‘During the night, heavy showers of rain carried by a N-W wind fell. I wondered if the boys were getting wet on top.’

Cox began climbing the final pitch at 11.00 am the next morning, as Conaghan describes it: ‘First up the crack, then out onto the wall, then back into the crack again. A piton here and there was needed but progress was fairly quick for this face—25 feet an hour. So the gap between Ron and the top narrowed.’ Conaghan dozed and was woken at 1.30 pm by the sound of some big blocks crashing down as Cox cleaned out the exit chimney. He crawled onto the summit ridge at 1.55 pm.

In these pre-jumar days, it was almost dark by the time Conaghan reached Comino on the last stance and with a torch dangling around his neck, Conaghan kept climbing: ‘Ron yelled directions from above—where to look for the next piton, or find essential holds. A flash of my torch would reveal the route for the next few feet, then followed moments of fumbling for holds as the torchlight danced fitfully, at waist level.’ Conaghan recalls the moment he reached Cox on the summit ridge: ‘A cold wind was blowing on top and the night was crystal clear. Stars sparkled brilliantly and a full moon was just rising from the ocean.’ Comino, ‘festooned in a tangle of rope, etriers, wedges and links’, soon joined them and they scrambled up the last 20 metres to the summit together. Their entry in the log book read: ‘First ascent East Crookneck—8th attempt—40 pitons, 7 wooden wedges—last man up at 8.30 pm.’ Conaghan recalls they had some trouble finding the path down Salmon’s Leap but there was another reward on the descent: ‘A huge gleaming mass stood out against the western sky. It was Beerwah, lit by a silver moon.’

Despite the epic nature of the climb, it was a significant achievement, although Cox remains circumspect about its impact: ‘I felt very elated doing it and very embarrassed in retrospect at not having done it cleanly at all. I guess I could have done it more cleanly but at the time we were not aware of purer forms of climbing. We just went up and looked at it. I would say I learned to climb on East Crookneck which is not the ideal place to learn to climb. Since we couldn’t climb very well we took a long time to get up.’ In 1961, Cox repeated the route with Peter Hardy, a member of Rhum Dhu, a radical offshoot of the Sydney Rockclimbing Club. On a top rope, Hardy managed to climb much of the second pitch free using the chimney, rather than following Cox’s original peg line on the left hand wall.

But it remained essentially an aid route until expatriate British climber Les Wood’s visit to Queensland in 1966. His impact on raising standards in Australia at that time was similar to that of a young Sydney-based climber called John Ewbank. One of Wood’s first Queensland targets was East Crookneck, urged on by his close friend and climbing partner, Donn Groom. ‘We found most of it could be climbed free and that the etriers were necessary in one place,’ Wood recalls, consulting his diary. ‘The last pitch was done in very heavy rain. Three and a quarter hours. A good route. I remember Donn saying that he thought this was one of the big challenges in the Glasshouse Mountains.’

The last aid move on the climb—at a huge bell-shaped overhang—was eliminated by an energetic Greg Sheard and Chris Meadows in 1969. But another challenge has loomed: five years ago all climbing on Crookneck was officially banned—allegedly for ‘safety’ reasons. But strangely, voices can still occasionally be heard drifting down from the heights on Crookneck—perhaps those of the ghosts of climbers past, determined to keep alive the spirit of adventure on this memorable crag.


 (First published in the Australasian Climbing Journal, Crux Number 2)

Crux columns: the origins of Australian climbing

The origins of Australian climbing 

There’s a lingering perception amongst many Australian climbers, young and old, that rockclimbing here is a recent phenomenon. And it is, when compared with its English predecessor, invented in the 1880s. There’s a common misconception that rockclimbing in this country began in southern Australia shortly after World War II. But its origins go well beyond publicised tales of activity here in the 1950s and 1960s. In this first contribution to Crux, I want to look at some of the individuals and ideas that helped to shape modern Australian climbing.
-->
On June 6, 1926, Albert Armitage Salmon, better known simply as ‘Bert’, and his climbing partner Alan Clelland climbed the imposing east face of Tibrogargan in the Glasshouse Mountains, 70 km north of Brisbane. It was one of the earliest known occurrences in Australia of someone climbing a peak by deliberately choosing a route other than an existing, easier path. And for 26-year-old Bert Salmon who had started climbing three years earlier, it marked the start of an extraordinary two decades of activity. 


Bert Salmon soloing on the north face of Coonowrin (Crookneck)
in the Glass House Mountains, Queensland, 1932. (A. A. Salmon collection)
Within three years of Salmon’s historic ascent in Queensland, another influential climber—Eric Payten Dark—emerged south of the border. Like Salmon, Dr Dark, as he was later known, pioneered the exploration of new climbing routes in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, and the Warrumbungles in central western New South Wales. But when it came to climbing ethics, the two could not have been further apart. Whereas Salmon—a staunch monarchist—shunned the use of rope, Dark—a socialist, and 10 years older—was probably the first to introduce European roped climbing techniques into Australia.

Adventures in the Blue Mountains
In 1929, Dark and a small cohort of local climbers formed the Blue Mountaineers, otherwise known as the Katoomba Suicide Club. They used rope and rudimentary belaying techniques, including an ‘unethical instrument’ to place belays, described as ‘a two metre long ice axe with a deeply curved pick and a notch to hold the rope where the shaft entered the head’. Dark opposed the use of ironmongery and followed the ethical doctrine of legendary English rockclimber Albert Mummery—that a rope should never be used as an aid for climbing but solely as a precautionary measure.


By the early 1930s, climbing had become a mass activity in southeast Queensland and to a lesser extent, the Blue Mountains. The two movements evolved independently until January 1934 when a contingent of 16 Queenslanders travelled to Katoomba on a ‘rock-climbing holiday’. They met up with Eric Dark and were ushered into Blue Mountains’ climbing culture with visits to the Three Sisters, the Boar’s Head at Narrow Neck, and Orphan Rock. It was the first Australian rockclimbing meet.

Early one Sunday morning, with 300 people watching from a nearby lookout, Salmon and 21 year old Brisbane climber Muriel Patten climbed the first of the Three Sisters, unroped. It was the first female ascent—a memorable event made even more so by Queenslander George Fraser pumping out tunes on his bagpipes as they climbed!



The next challenge was the so-called ‘Fly Wall’, a steep, eight metre sandstone cliff that budding Blue Mountaineers had to climb before they could join the club. The short climb was noted for its ‘rudimentary’ ledges and at one point, climbers had to jump for a handhold. As the Queenslanders lined up to try the route, a problem emerged: Eric Dark (pictured at the top of the cliff above) insisted they use a rope tied around their chests as a belay. ‘I put the rope on,’ Salmon recalled, ‘and then I took it off!’ Eric Dark, the president of the Blue Mountaineers, retorted: ‘You won’t!’ The feisty Queenslander ignored him. ‘I tried my level best for Queensland and for my own reputation,’ Salmon said, ‘and I succeeded in climbing to the top of the wall without the rope. That was the first time it had ever been done! Dr Dark was amazed.’Within minutes, George Fraser (above) had become the second person to solo the wall, perhaps inadvertently sowing the seeds of the mostly friendly interstate climbing rivalry that persists today. The Queensland contingent then headed to Narrowneck where the exposed Boar’s Head awaited them. This time, with a sheer drop of more than a hundred metres below them, they used the rope!
It’s clear from these and other stories of climbing activity throughout the 1920s and 1930s, that friendly rivalry and ethical debates have influenced the development of climbing in Australia from the start. A scan of current online climbers’ discussion forum topics suggests little has changed. But what seems to be missing is an awareness of the high ethical standards that defined Australian climbing for the first 20 years of its existence.

The beginning of modern Australian rockclimbing?
Bert Salmon always referred to Henry Mikalsen’s 1910 first ascent (solo) of the 300 metre pinnacle, Crookneck, in the Glasshouse Mountains as the birth of modern Australian climbing. And well before the exploits of Salmon and Dark became more widely known, Australia’s first mountaineer, Freda Du Faur, was rockclimbing on the sandstone cliffs of Kuringai Chase near her Sydney home as she prepared for a series of historic first ascents in the Southern Alps of New Zealand from 1910 to 1912.
It’s also important to acknowledge that it is highly likely that most peaks in Australia had been climbed by Indigenous people, perhaps thousands of years before white settlement. The incorporation of all landscape features into Indigenous cosmology demands a respect for place that cannot be isolated from the activities we define as climbing today.
Whenever Australian climbing could be said to have started, it was Bert Salmon and Eric Dark who popularised it in Australia. They helped to change it from an occasional activity by the odd—and sometimes very odd—adventurous individual, to a sport that attracted significant numbers of men and women between World War I and World War II, particularly in Queensland. It was this movement that shaped the idea of climbing here until an explosion of clubs and standards following World War II pushed Australian climbing ever closer to its current global prominence.

 (First published in the Australasian Climbing Journal, Crux Number 1)

Sunday, May 10, 2015


About The living rock

 A book based on the material you can view here -- and much more -- will now be available in August 2015.

This blog is a collection of words and images which start to tell the story of the origins of rockclimbing in Australia. It includes material that I and colleagues have gathered from other passionate climbers willing to share their experiences and observations, along with information we've gathered from newspaper archives, personal photographic collections and first-hand accounts by protagonists. We started this quest more than a decade ago and still have some way to travel. The material we have gathered thus far has revealed stories of the emergence of the idea of climbing in Australia before World War II which has shaped the development of what is now known as 'adventure' or 'traditional' climbing in postwar Queensland and beyond. The time period covered by this research stretches from the very beginnings of human interaction with the Australian landscape, shifting to mostly Queensland activity after the second world war. Primarily, these observations do not focus on the period beyond the late 1970s when climbing began to fragment into several, distinctly different elements: sport and gym climbing, bouldering etc, gradually pushing what became known as 'trad' or 'adventure' climbing to the periphery. The detailed story of climbing in Australia from the 1980s onwards is for others to write.

I've also included here some of my own writing about rockclimbing culture in Australia, its genesis, and some of my own experiences as a climber. This includes five columns I contributed to the now departed Australasian Climbing Journal, Crux, between 2006-2007, and a collection of other pieces I have written (and co-written) for various publications over the past decade or so. I hope it will give you some insight into the rich layers that contextualise and define rockclimbing in Australia. You can access these readings by clicking the files on the Blog Archive links on right-hand side of the page.

Like all histories, this is a version of events. It does not pretend to be the definitive account (if there is such a thing) and comes from an obvious Queensland perspective. It offers an alternative to the predominant view of Australian climbing history that has tended to assume that climbing as a mass sport started in New South Wales and Victoria. The somewhat episodic examples here provide some insight into the extraordinary range of mostly young men and women who have felt compelled to move beyond the usual pathways to explore the more elusive aspects of the Australian landscape. Although 'modern' Australian climbing began less than 100 years ago, a small number of individuals has been exploring high places here since the European invasion. Indigenous people had already inscribed every aspect of the landscape into their cosmology for millennia. But this is a story about climbing as a European 'invention'. Each climbing community around Australia and beyond has its own stories, its own histories and I hope this encourages others to tell them. Please pass on this web address to anyone you think may be interested or who has information to add (or correct) what I've presented here.


Reproducing images or text
This blog represents a small fraction of the material that I and others have accumulated during this ongoing project. It has relied on the goodwill and trust of many climbers, current and past, who agreed to be interviewed and who have offered access to their private photograph collections. Please respect the copyright on the photographs published here, asking permission from the original owners (through me, if you like) before reproducing any of the material. But share this with friends, by all means.



More to come
The book based on the material I and my colleagues have gathered in an effort to tell this fascinating story will be published in 2015. My aim has been to ensure that as many as possible of the images gathered and personal stories related to me by the climbers who have created this history are passed on to future generations drawn to the heights. The research for this continuing project has so far unearthed around 3000 images (most from private, previously unpublished collections) and close to 4000 archival documents (letters, diaries, newspaper and journal articles etc) relating to Australian climbing history. I discovered stories of adventure that have rarely, if ever, been told. I think it offers an insight into a fascinating history that few Australians--climbers especially--are aware. Please enjoy this small sample of Australia's rich, climbing heritage.

Pictures: (above) On Mount Barney and below, the author contemplating life on the east face of Tibrogargan (Michael Meadows collection).