This story is an excerpt of Adam Donoghue's story that was published in the coffee table book "Adventures at the Edge of the World: The Epic Story of Tasmanian Rock Climbing" by Gerry Narkowicz and Simon Bischoff (Eds.) Keith Bell did a review of the Adventures at the End of the World for Common Climber.
Trying my best to stay on Doug Fife's heels during my first trip to the Tyndals (Photo By: Adam Donoghue)
I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be. Back in the 90’s I was 25 and had a burning desire for adventure. Adventure that involved uncertainty, hardship, fear and getting my arse kicked till dark, then getting up and doing it again. I had honed my skills at Frog Buttress then cut my teeth in Yosemite for big wall adventures. Now I was ready to apply my skills and ambition on the biggest baddest climbs I could find.
Around this time I was introduced to the Tyndals of Tasmania and during the next ten years I threw myself at a collection of the hardest climbs I’d ever done. During one of those days in the Tyndals the old me died; I lost my youthful self and morphed into a new version of climber, and a new person. Let me explain.
I had been climbing with local crusher Sam Edwards at Mt. Brown one day when I first heard about a huge ‘unclimbable cliff’ on the west coast. He’d been dragged in there as a free climbing weapon with Garn Cooper on a trip the previous summer to climb ‘the last great unclimbed cliff in Tassie’. He described it “as 300m high, overhanging, blank, and scary as fuck!”
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“It’s an unclimbable cliff in the mountains but feels like a sea cliff as the face overhangs a huge lake.” Sam had climbed grade 32 and knew what was free climbable so my ears pricked up. Having just returned from Yosemite on a big wall aid-climbing trip it sounded like an aid climbing cliff to me. My very own blank Yosemite big wall canvas here in Tassie…cool!
Doug drove his clapped out ute like a madman. He casually slid the tail out as we scooted down a dirt logging road doing the winding four-hour drive towards the west coast of Tasmania. He casually lit up a plump joint as he steered with one hand. It was obvious that if a truck came the other way we were toast. I gestured for a drag knowing it would reduce his intake and dull my rational mind. Doug was not your average climber. More like a cross between a fridge removalist and the guy in the bar you don’t want to look in the eye. He was a unit you wouldn’t want to mess with; but he knew the way to this secret mega cliff and was psyched for climbing, so we were a team. A two-hour slog up a big hill landed us lost and stumbling around the plateau drenched in darkness and mist, trying to locate landmarks. Welcome to the Tyndals! Finally we just slept under a big overhanging boulder for a long uncomfortable night. In the morning Doug quickly found his bearings and the 300m high cliff. |
Doug Fife doing a space jug during an attempt on the route the left of main face (Photo Credit: Adam Donoghue)
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We arrived at the cliff top and I was blown away by the wild exposure. A full 300m high, overhanging wall perched above a one kilometre wide lake. It was immediately clear that this was big league stuff and you needed to be at your best, but I was feeling a little less than hotel-room-fresh.
We arrived at the cliff top and I was blown away by the wild exposure. A full 300m high, overhanging wall perched above a one kilometre wide lake. It was immediately clear that this was big league stuff and you needed to be at your best, but I was feeling a little less than hotel-room-fresh.
Scott Camps leading the free pitch after the epic prow of 'The Healer' (Photo Credit: Gareth Llewellin)
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With most cliffs you get to the base then gradually climb it getting used to the exposure as you slowly gain height. But in the Tyndals you get to the top and abseil in so it’s all go from the moment you look over the edge. Peering over the edge you see the cliff, the sky, and the clouds all reflected in the surface of the lake. This gives the place an other worldly feel. An outrageous place and unbelievably still unclimbed! If you haven’t been there you may still not quite appreciate the spectacle of the Tyndals. It’s one of a kind, a place worthy of devotion. The place is like an artwork on every scale! A classic open sweep of Tassie alpine goodness; dotted with craggy ridgelines, cushion plants, deciduous beech, crystal clear rock tarns, and glaciated rock of all colours. Striking quartzite ribbons are surrounded by the purple, pink and grey conglomerate stones that are polished like gems. It’s a place that quickly has you in awe. For me I initially felt intimidated on the main wall and found myself climbing stiffly, my mind constantly on edge. But after I did my time, it felt more like home, and demanded I be at my very best. |
Adam leading the top section of the epic prow on 'The Healer' (Photo Credit: Gareth Llewellin)
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Adam Donoghue going porta-ledge style ground up during an early attempt at 'The Healer' (Photo Credit: Adam Donoghue)
If you climb your best on a dramatic stage like the main face of Lake Huntley, it’s a day you’ll never forget.
Give it a few more trips and the memories of joy, pain, companionship, hardship, beauty, fear, and humour will surely connect you to a special place. Landscape and memory become entwined.
Gareth getting primal in the snow on the trip where they climbed The Healer (Photo Credit: Adam Donoghue)