wazatherfisherman

Hi James cuda= northern species, couta= southern species. We used to call them "Pickhandles" like noelm said pest species to us here, as they often bite jigs/gear off on the drop, but commonly eaten in other states and countries. They fish for them in Victoria

Hi Dieter not the Ben Buckler the point is named after! BBBarnacle I've never met, but do know he's both a Bondi local and an old rock hopper like me. There is some great footage here on Raider that was posted by Fishraider Cossie in relation to the Mattens. It's in a reply to the post I did ages ago called "Reminiscing, Mulloway Kingfish and the Murk effect" if you scroll down in replies, Cossie posted two short movies, pretty old footage but the cliff is the same. In the first clip at 1.14 min in you can see the climb well and a few metres under the climber pictured is where the fall happened, albeit in the dark. At 1.12 in the second clip if you look at bottom of the screen you can briefly see the foot hole Mark reached for and missed. The next one is directly under it

Thanks JAKSShark currently I have almost all my stuff in storage, including photo's and as most are old I wouldn't have a clue how to put them on- no scanner/printer or smart phone just a laptop with a few saved pics

Hi Burger thanks mate! I'm only a fisherman not a writer, but am enjoying simply remembering these events and putting them down. Hate to admit it, but some of my old notes in my own hand-writing are a bit hard to read!

Hi Pete yes he was lucky, I still can't believe he didn't break a single bone, witnessing the fall, I thought he was seriously injured and was stunned they told me he walked to the ambulance. Sorry to hear about both your mates, don't blame you for never going to those places again. Adventure is in rock fishermen's blood and it's all part of the experience, access included. "Lame" access in Sydney always meant overcrowded locations like the Murk's. Am thinking of writing a book, just for the sake of recording all these yarns. Give me something to focus on and it's making my brain "work" in terms of spelling, paragraphing etc. Glad you enjoyed the story, I can remember it like it was yesterday. Regards Waza

Hi alexoklad the guy that did the video- Ben Buckler Barnacle- did a great study which he posted on FB worth a look- called great rock fishing scrambles of Sydney. Our only real danger was in the rope climbs

Wednesday's evening forecast showed the big high pressure system hovering over the state, great!- Westerly winds and the sea would flatten from the moderate swell. The weekend trip to the Mattens was on. Thursday night shopping for food supplies, going to need more than the Vegemite sandwiches usually in the fishing lunch kit. as this was a BIG trip. We were even taking a mini gas stove down. More Gar's needed too, the home made "block" of them and the blocks of Pilly's wouldn't nearly be enough, as two more guys were now coming, making the group of us now seven. Off to Campsie in Sydney's inner-west to grab more bait. Campsie, with a big multicultural community, has always been a great place to source bait. Checking the many fish markets, you could buy all manner of different sea creatures, from tiny Whitefish to the prized Sauries- which were often marketed as "Korean Garfish" and there are always a good variety of interesting things to get for bait. The usual Sea Gars, with their blueish colouration were usually found in at least one of the five big markets, but if they weren't available, then their greenish cousins, the River Gar, with fatter bodies, were usually there instead. River Gar, although nowhere near as good as Sea Gar, would do for Tailor fishing. In our early rock fishing trips, Tailor were one of our main targeted species, due to them being readily available, good fighters and not too bad on the plate if they were handled properly. Also, in the early days, it was equally important to get a decent bag of fish to take home, to show a result for the effort and display "credibility" as a fisherman- a nice bag of 2-3 lb Tailor ticked all the boxes. Two of the main night fishing spots at the Mattens were really reliable in terms of Tailor. Big moon nights they would often hang around for hours, biting in different patterns at different tide stages. Small moon and they would generally be around dawn and dusk. The advantage of having a few guys fishing for them, is by having plenty of baits going out in a small area, there's either bait or burley- from "hit" baits- constantly in the water. Add to this, the splashes and struggles of hooked fish seem to add to the Tailor's excitement/aggressiveness, so more fishermen meant more chance of keeping the school around for extended periods and more fish caught. No bag limits back then. Bait obtained, food organised, gear sorted and packed. One more sleep, then off for our longest trip to date. The rest of the guys all lived in the Chester Hill- Bass Hill area and would pick me up from Croydon on the way through to the Dover Heights cliff about 8 pm Friday night, planning on arriving at the cliff top around 9-9.30 pm, but due to one of the guys getting caught up at work, we arrived at the cliff just after 11.45 pm. First part of the climb- the "goat track" was easily navigated, as the moon was up in the east, lighting up the track nicely.. Within about twenty minutes, we were all assembled at the pulley, where all the gear was readied for lowering to the ledge below. At 16, I was the youngest, but as I'd already been down about ten times, I was first to climb down the big rope climb, in order to untie the first load of lowered gear. I remember being really excited at the prospect of a long trip and also the near perfect conditions of a slight sea on a low swell, barely coming over one of the lowest ledges below. Prayers secretly said to yourself at the top, then methodically down the ropes in the moonlight, leaving the up top crew with the pulley loading. A bit over 3 minutes climbing and down at the bottom, phew! First thing you did was to "un-clench" your fists from the rope, followed by a good look at where you'd just climbed- there was always a sense of both relief and achievement after reaching the bottom. The first load was already dangling from the pulley rope, about two feet off the bottom, so I moved down a couple of stepped levels to reach it, pull it over to a higher level and untie it. Job done and the rope was going back up for the next load. As only four of the guys were needed for pulley duty, the other two had started the descent. Once you'd got under the dreaded "white foot hole" overhang on the first stage, where you had to reach both down and under to a small bit of ledge to get your feet on, you were then unseen to those above, and only one person was ever on each section of ropes at a time. Each subsequent climber would wait until the ropes were clear before taking hold. To check on the movement below, whoever was next just placed their fingers on the ropes and you could tell when the strain relaxed and movement ceased, indicating the one below, had made it to the "halfway" ledge, shuffled gingerly across the wall to the next set of "pegs" and taken up the next ropes for the final stage. At this point, I'll underline the prerequisites of coming on a trip down. Firstly, a reasonable degree of both strength and fitness was needed, so you had to be able to do six chin-ups with full arm extension and hold each one for 3 seconds- might sound easy, but it isn't, if in doubt, try it! This test was vital due to the need for being able to hold your own weight, while feeling for a toe hold/foot hold. It was the only physical test you HAD to pass if you wanted to come. The other requirements were rock plates affixed to good quality footwear, joggers with a soft enough toe to feel the footing of the cliff and of course you had to agree to follow any instructions on the goat track, cliff and the fishing areas. Any joking around was to be reserved for rest periods up in the camp at the cave, well away from danger. The creed of never turning your back on the sea- even in the calmest conditions, was also strictly adhered to and newbie's watched closely, as this was a common mistake on the rocks. NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON THE SEA! Mark was second coming down and although he'd come down once before, it had been in daylight, not in the dark. Usually, until you'd climbed it at least three times, a "safety rope" was tied around the chest and under your arms, fixed with a bowline non-slip knot and wrapped in a figure eight pattern around the four metal posts that the climb ropes were tied to. As the new climber moved down, rope was played out, leaving only around a foot of slack, which was just enough to ensure movement, yet let the climber actually climb independently- no lowering or free rides allowed. The rope was just as much a reassuring confidence builder as an actual safety device. On the way back up however, the strain was kept on by whoever was working the rope, as the tightness helped with the climber's nerves! I had no idea, that Mark had refused the safety rope, regardless of only having been down once. I later learned that due to he being two years older than myself, he didn't want to seem "phased" by the climb or someone younger going down without it before him. Male "bravado"? -Bad idea. After untying the pulley load, whoever is at the bottom then moves back to the cliff wall, so you aren't directly underneath the goings-on above, just in case either rocks or a loose piece of gear falls- you would never know in the dark, as you wouldn't see it come down. Over the years, several things fell and there were some very close calls experienced by those below the pulley. So after untying the first load and moving back to the cliff wall, I look up to see Mark stretching down a flat section of wall about 25-30 feet above the bottom of the ropes. It's the one section on the bottom part that's a bit tricky, with the only two cut foot-holes on the bottom section, one directly below the other. His arms are at full stretch instead of being around the ideal climbing distance of about chest-to-shoulder height and he can't find the hole, which is only about 4 inches square and an inch or so deep into the wall. He yells "HELP ME" and I know he's not mucking around, there's panic in the yell, so I say go back up a foot and I'll direct you from here. He goes back up about a foot and is now tight against the wall, but at least he has both feet on a ledge big enough to put 3/4 of each foot on and stand there. He then says he can't move, up or down- I later found out he was totally out of arm strength- so I grab the two ropes hanging next to him- there are four going down each section of climb- and climb up next to him, making sure my ropes don't knock him off the wall as I go up to him. I got to him and had my feet on the same narrow-inward ledge his were on. He said his hands and arms had just locked up- again discovering later, it was probably lactic acid build up- what to do now? Without letting go of my ropes, I put one arm around him, rope included, to help steady him, as he was shaking dreadfully, more from having clenched fists on the ropes and burning arms from exertion than fear- well, probably fear as well, we were standing side by side on a cliff wall about 30 feet up in the dark. By this stage Rob, climber three, had come down the wall and was watching from directly above at halfway, but unable to help. We stood there against the wall for about 2 or 3 minutes, while I described to Mark exactly where his feet had to go, there was no alternative, he was going to have to slide each foot, one first about 3 feet into the shallow cut hole, then the other about 3 foot directly below the first one, then 3 feet lower was another foot wide ledge. If he could just get into the two holes then down to the foot wide bit he could actually sit on that one facing outwards and give the arms and hands a rest. OK plan organised, I offered to go first and indicate the holes, but he said "no, I can do it" and I moved my arm back around him next to my side. He attempted the top hole, but missed it and didn't have the strength to come back up under arm power, so he decided to keep hold of he ropes and just slide down the 9 or 10 feet, aiming for the wider bit below. Once he started sliding, he got "rope-burn" on his palms from the drop and couldn't grip, so kept on slipping down the wall. Hitting the foot wide ledge below at speed, he then did what I can only describe as something like half a backward somersault, still with ropes in hand, but no longer able to close his fists enough to halt the downward motion using the ropes. Fortunately for him, although sliding/falling, he maintained contact with the ropes in hand, and in sort, they kept him almost against the cliff wall, regardless that he was falling. Next impact was about another 8 or 9 feet down and his legs buckled as he hit, legs first, the next protruding part of the cliff wall. From there, still ropes in hand, he tumbled about another 8 or so feet, at the bottom of the ropes, before rolling outwards, dropping another 4 feet and rolling again, this time going over the edge of the stepped ledges and falling about five more feet. He stopped rolling and lay motionless on the rock ledge, almost directly underneath the pulley up top. I raced back down the ropes and jumped down to where he was, just lying on the ledge. He was conscious and eyes open, but moaning almost silently. I told him not to move, as from my view, he must have been badly injured. Rob, about to come down the second lot of ropes and witness to what had happened, stayed at halfway, while I checked on Mark. Fearing a neck, back or spinal injury, I again told Mark not to move and yelled up to Rob that he was conscious, but not going to move anywhere. In the mean time, load number two was almost down on the pulley rope and the head of the "observer" appeared high above. I yelled as loudly as possible that Mark had fallen, but the reply from up top was "BULLS**T"- they knew him well and he was a known larrikin- nobody believed he'd fallen! On hearing this, Rob then climbed back up to the top, to raise the alarm. I moved to grab my backpack and get my torch out of an external side pocket, having the idea of shining the torch on the blood all over Mark's right side. Surely they'd believe the fall then. Speaking of the blood, there was plenty, but it wasn't "flowing", more like visible, due to him scraping his right side from ankle to hip plus entire right arm on the wall. It was more like a gravel rash- but a severe one, with plenty of raw skin and redness and blood visible. His shorts were the old nylon footy shorts and they were scraped open almost all the way to the waist and he'd bumped his head several times, in different places during the fall. To his credit though, he wasn't complaining, didn't seem disorientated and therefore hopefully not concussed. I was able to get him into the "coma position" (something I'd only just learned in Scouts) by gently moving his injured leg. He joked it wasn't much of a spot for a sleep, but I covered him with two sacks and propped his head up on a backpack. Not letting go of the ropes had prevented serious injury, even though he'd fallen then rolled around 40 feet in height. Meanwhile, Rob had climbed back up and raised the alarm with the rest of the crew at the pulley. I'm not sure who went back up and rang the Police, or where they rang from, mobile phones were long from being invented in the 1970's. The time was now about 12.30 am and I sat next to Mark and waited. To my surprise, none of the guys came down the climb, instead, around 1 am, an ambulance crew arrived at the pulley and shone a really bright light down on us, before one of the Ambo's attempted to climb down the wall, but on reaching the dreaded white foot hole up on the top section and reaching underneath, he missed the ledge and went back up. I remember thinking at the time, he was pretty brave to even attempt coming down an unknown climb in the dark. Then the pulley rope was going up again and it came back down with a medical tackle box attached, followed by another bag with blow-up body suit- including a foot pump. Instructions had been written in clay on the canvas bag using a stick, but I didn't understand what to do, just "winging it" with the suit. Before I got it half on Mark though, he said "no man, I don't want it on"- it would have stuck on the raw skin at any rate. He then asked me for his smokes from his backpack and although I didn't think it a good idea, I got them for him. All I was trying to do was keep him occupied and warm, hoping whatever help was coming next would hurry up. Then, about 2 am, there was a bright "glow" way up high on the cliff, we couldn't tell from the bottom what it was, other than it was really bright. What was actually going on up top, was the Police Rescue Squad erecting a huge framework for lowering a rescuer, complete with steel crib, all the way to the bottom. There was a large set of lights, a pulley system and a whole range of different gear. A compressor for the power also hummed loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood as well. The commotion of noise, Police and other rescue vehicles had actually woken heaps of household's up and there were probably more than a hundred or so people in the park up the top, waiting to find out what was going on down below. The going's on up top, related to me later, as I remained with Mark, at the cliff base. Around 3.20 am, the sound of a whistle alerted us to something moving, high above. The moon had now gone over the cliff, but as the whistle noise grew closer, a figure in white overalls could be seen, almost horizontal, coming down the cliff. He was being lowered from the very top and nowhere near our goat track, however he was on track to land only about 15 or so yards away from where we were. He was attached via a harness, to a steel crib stretcher, that had a thick, white rope connected to it. A few more whistle blasts and he was down. He said "g'day fella's tonight, I'll be your rescuer" -I know that doesn't sound funny, but it's made me laugh for years. His name was Dave and he'd done plenty of rescues. He had a quick chat with us and decided we could safely get the crib underneath Mark, so we slid it under him sideways and then used the crib's belts- like car seat-belts- to secure him in. Then he took one side and I the other and he blew his whistle and the rope started moving upwards, dragging the crib and us to the cliff side. One whistle for stop, two for go. As Dave was attached to the crib via a full harness, he was safe to go back up the same way he'd come down. I didn't have the harness and just hanging on to the thin bar of the crib wasn't going to be a safe option, so I had to get off my side and crawl across a narrow ledge to get back down. Dave re-positioned himself to the bottom of the crib and asked if I'd be OK getting back up without their (the rescue squad's) help and then blew the whistle again and up he went, slowly but constantly until out of my vision. I climbed back down to make sure the gear was tied back on to the pulley and climbed back up the ropes. Only Rob stayed and waited for me and by the time we got back to the top, near 4.40 am, everyone bar one ABC reporter had gone. I had no idea of the scene at the top, until back in the car on the way home. I was equally shocked to learn that after reaching the top in the crib, Mark was asked by one of the Ambo's if he thought he could walk, and he did! He walked about 15 yards to the waiting ambulance and off to St Vincent's hospital, where they kept him overnight. Not one broken bone. Almost unbelievable to me, after seeing the fall. Mark never returned to the Mattens, but the rest of us fished there for many years and Rob is still one of my best mates.

Hi John R we fished the "Block" a few times while the ladder was there. To me, just as scary as the Mattens, as the old ladder was both rickety and no longer pinned solid to the wall. We used to run 2 ropes down and just use the ladder's rungs to step on. From memory every second or third rung had a thin, solid iron rod underneath the wooden step as reinforcement, but the ladder was really old (before Steve Davies time I'd think) and plenty of rungs were broken or cracked through from being out in the weather. Once down, there was a great gutter all along the front and we bobby corked about 4 ft deep for Bream in there. As the tide got towards high, massive Blue Groper would surf a swell over and into the gutter to feed and were clearly visible, even from above on the cliff top. First time at the Block, we were actually corking off the top and when the second fish fell during the winching-up process, they put a rope around me and sent me down the ladder to retrieve both the fish. I'm pretty sure the council removed the top of the ladder after a fatality on the lower section, where part of the ladder broke off the wall and the climber tragically passed away. Other places along there I've fished are "The Logs" and "Cave" at Rosa, Rosa Gully itself, including the "Green Ledge", George St, the Lighthouse (worst climb) both Gap's, Murk, Buckler, The Boot, to name a few. Never made it to "The Alters" or the "Pillbox" near the Chapel, except in a boat. If you use the search engine and look up "Reminiscing, Mulloway, Kingfish and the Murk effect" then scroll down in replies to the post, there are two 90 second video's of Mattens footage showing the climb in better detail. Good to hear from another rock hopper and thanks for posting the picture Regards Waza

Hi Lachlan N there are Tailor and Salmon along the beach (most beaches) go in daylight hours and look for a gutter with an opening going out seawards, even better if it has an opening each end and it's between two sand banks, so you have a wave break on the sand bank out furthest, leaving the broken wave's "white water" to cover (at least in part) the gutter you're fishing in. Even if there are no fish in it initially, schools moving along the beach in search of bait schools/food often enter and have a look, just as you are doing. Tailor in particular, sometimes only hang around for a few minutes if there isn't any feed and you have to move along as they do. Keep an eye on the curving waves- often you will see fish moving through them before the wave breaks

Hi Frank I reckon so! Still would have been a degree of "palming" I'm sure. Great capture! I got 2 custom spools made for my attempt, hasn't happened yet, just a "dream"- but something to aim for in the future hopefully Regards Waza

A Marlin on a plain series Alvey, doesn't have to be very big, one of those little ones they get off the flats in Qld about 15-20 kg would do fine. Always loved catching fish on drag-less reels, reckon it'd be a good fight, even built a rod specially for it but the trip never happened- yet, anyway

No offence to you either- I only posted to see what others thought, no one is right or wrong. Was my bad for not stating properly what I meant- that all the fish seem to know what season it is and are back to "seasonal time"- some after a long absence, like the Hairy's

Hi Mullatt that would mean less reports and there are fish around all over the place. I'm thinking more of nature returning to "yesteryear" as 61 Crusher indicated also. Hopefully, this trend continues the whole year

I've been sitting here at home reading reports from all over the coast and well, frankly, after a few years, I reckon fishing seems to be "back on track" in regards to species for the time of year. The Yellowfin are around all along the coast, the Mullet moving,- usually sharks and big Jew shadowing them, Hairtail are "in" again- even in numbers in Sydney Harbour after only a trickle of them for years. Luderick are massing and Tailor back for a while now. The Kings should be well on at the Peak, but I don't know if anyone's been getting them/trying for them. Silver Trevally should be next migration inwards. Any thoughts?

Hi Dieter, when you got well practised on the cliff, you would be only about 90 seconds on the ropes going down and 2 minutes going up and yes it was a genuine adrenaline rush going down. Up was more like a sense of relief for me after I got off the ropes and "crabbed" to the pulley, knowing the worst was done again until next trip. The joy of fishing made me go, regardless my fear of heights

Thanks Rebel! The reason I just did the access, is in preparation for two more stories of falls and rescues.

Hi Pete wasn't it great to be bulletproof! Seems a LONG time ago now! The ropes always gave you butterfly's, no matter how well you climbed. Many of Sydney's rock spots have been closed off and access destroyed by councils or vandals, Just doing maintenance was both difficult and dangerous, the guys who develop spots like the Mattens must have been fearless and whoever chiselled the "white foot hole" would have been hanging out backwards about 85 feet above thin air!

Hi Frank and thanks! I actually have an odd fear of heights- believe it or not! Trouble was, the fishing there is better than anywhere, no crowds and definitely adventure, so I forced myself to go. Wally McLuckie who took us down the first few times, was fishing there every week until into his late 70's. Even after his Dr told him he could only carry 5 kg of gear- due to a slow recovering hernia, that didn't stop him, he just took his Blackfish gear, then cleaned, skinned and cut his catch up, only carrying home what went in the pan. He took a hand-line to fish for Snapper and whenever he got one (usually over 4 kg!) we'd carry it up for him. He only used 2 different baits for Snapper- either Garfish he caught himself or Blackfish gut

Hi Burger thanks! On about the 4th trip down, no more safety rope and then for a few years, no drama's. I did this description because I needed to, so as to tell of a couple more trips. You would have loved the Blackfishing down there, abundant fish and giants amongst them, with a few guys burleying, it was great action!

Thanks masterfisho7!

Fantastic fish!

Hi Going Fishing that's great! It's my first attempt at REALLY trying hard to do a location description in detail! Just what I was trying to achieve🙂

Hi JAKSShark I thought I'd better put in a decent description of what the place is like, due to having so many stories from going there. Very pleased it's turned out well enough for you to get the "feel" of the place!

After becoming a regular fisherman on the rocks at Dover Heights, you began to get to know the climb. I don't just mean know the way, but really know every step, particularly on the largest of the two rope climbs. From the moment you got over the cliff-side safety fence, within a few yards, you're on your way downward. The first part down is very steep going, with soft, shifting sand, held together by a little coarse grass and small shrubs and by the time you've gone down about 50 feet in height, you're now out less than 20 feet eastwards- towards the ocean, from where you started at the fence. From this point on, any slip outwards and it's a huge drop, all the way to the bottom- not entirely a vertical fall all the way, but you would tumble, with nothing to grab for and then be over the vertical wall of the cliff, about 270-280 feet above the ledge below. If you slipped up on this section, there was no chance for survival. Edging along foot wide bits of sandstone, walking on angled overhanging ledges and protrusions, and in one spot, on pre-marked foot spaces, the white marking paint barely visible from years of being trodden on. A few places, along and below this section, you have to face into the cliff and edge along in a crouch position, there are a few small, purpose cut hand-holds, no hurrying along this bit, as you had to make sure your backpack doesn't get caught anywhere on protruding rock, especially just above your head, so you lean out backwards. It's slippery along here, water seeps through the rock naturally in a couple of spots, even if it hasn't rained for weeks. Grab the hand holds firmly. The rods, secured tightly to each other by either 3 or 4 straps or bits of cord, useful in some of these "mini-climbs" as a steadier, like an extended walking stick. Everyone had to carry there own and for much of this access, you couldn't even pass your rod to one of your companions, rather instead, "set" it, leaning in towards the cliff, or pushing them sideways as you passed difficult parts. The fibreglass copped scrapes, no matter what care was taken, I doubt today's graphite would stand up to the treatment anywhere near as well. A lot of guys hated this mid section as much as the rope climb, but personally, I didn't mind it compared to the ropes below. It takes less than 10 minutes to traverse this top section and finally, you found yourself on a narrow angled ledge, again with a few cut foot marks, which sat only about 8 or so feet above an equally narrow path, going downwards, in the opposite direction from where you'd come. In effect, you were "zig-zagging" backwards and forwards as you moved down. Foot down on top of a piece of old pipe that had a "T" junction hammered on to make a step about 3 inches wide, then a rock used for another step and you're on the path. The path trails steeply down for about 50 yards and is clay and dirt, no real danger walking the path, providing you stay away from the "drop" side. Then suddenly, you've arrived at the "small climb" - an almost vertical wall, dropping about 35 feet down. Atop this climb, a large, iron peg (we later replaced it with a big stainless one) is cemented in, with two ropes attached, left in place permanently. There is a natural ledge about halfway down the wall, that was undercut enough to comfortably lean on while holding the rope, and chiselled-out foot steps. These steps, mostly between 2 and 3 inches deep, just enough to easily get the toe of your shoe in and were spaced alternately down the entire wall, every left and every right exactly below each other. This made for easy sliding of your foot, just reach straight below the one above, making for easy reach in the pitch dark- fisherman's climbing times. Alternating foot steps meant you could hold your rods in one hand and simply hang onto the two climbing ropes in your other hand. Why two? In case one breaks, permanently set ropes are exposed to both water run-off and the sun. This climb was basically one foot after the other, going straight from cut hole to the next, it was relatively easy. You climb with your legs, not hands, your hands are there holding the rope as a "steadier"- same as climbing a ladder. Then you scramble down about another twenty feet below the small climb's wall and you've reached the final stage. Backpacks off, rods down, you've reached the pulley, sitting on the most eastward part of the cliff, well out from the vertical wall and from where the gear and rods are lowered to the the ledges below The pulley is a very basic frame, shaped like a "T" with an extended length top. The downward post, cemented into a chiselled hole about a foot back from the edge, the top, extending out about 30 inches over this edge and the opposite end about 6 feet long, bolted to the wall with about four or five bolts. A pulley wheel on a strong frame bolted to the T and a rope roughly 120-130 feet long tied to the frame and threaded through the pulley wheel. This was always a hated job, due to someone had to lean out over the edge, holding onto the frame, to thread the rope. Nothing underneath the pulley for about 120+ feet. One of us would then crouch and move crab-like, to the left, back inwards under a long overhang, about 4 feet high and about 40 feet to where the main climb sits. Then, after shaking the ropes to "dust" off any debris, make their way down the vertical wall. While one climbed, the remaining crew tied the backpacks on and after taking the strain on the rope, carefully pushed the gear over the edge, making sure it didn't swing on the rope. Once lowered, the first climber, after reaching the bottom of the ropes, would then untie the load, rope pulled back up and the rods would be tied next, to come down butts first. If there were only two of us, packs and rods were lowered together, with the rods hanging about 4 feet below the packs. Doing the lowering in this manner, once the rods reached the bottom, a bit of a push on the rope ensured the packs didn't end up on the rods. The last ten or so feet, one of those lowering, would move to the edge, take hold of the pulley frame, lean over slightly and direct the "push" of the rope, so an accurate landing was achieved. Then the pulley rope untied and dropped over as well, There were several reasons why the rope came with us, firstly, if anyone got washed in, the rope could be used as a line to help get them out. Secondly, if you were going to leave it attached to the pulley, you had to tie it off to a protrusion below, so the wind wouldn't get it, as we'd already had a couple of ropes blow into a crevice, high up and out of reach, getting wedged in by the crown knot used to "seal" the end of the rope. If someone else came down, they had to untie the rope from the frame and carefully remove from the pulley wheel, so as to tie their own rope on, since the one already in use was tied off at the bottom. Thirdly, for a period, the ropes were being stolen while we were down fishing, making for an annoying and slower retrieve of the gear via the climbing ropes. The climbing ropes were permanently in place, tied to and around 4 large iron pins, about an inch and a half thick. The pins had been placed in deep holes, laboriously chiselled out with a star chisel in years gone by, then cemented in place in a large cement block. The ropes were replaced spasmodically, whenever wear was noticed or they started to look too swollen from being wet too often, for long periods. These ropes were around an inch and a quarter- inch and a half diameter and your life depended on them being kept sound. Two ropes hung off each side, so you could have two in each hand, again, like holding the sides of a ladder. One of the groups of guys fishing the spot, were firemen and they had great quality ropes and replaced them every twelve months or so, if not earlier. Other rope sources were both the ferry's and also the army, as both organisations generally replaced their equipment regularly. To climb the big wall, straight down, was always a bit scary, prayers were often said, and everyone would watch as each climber carefully and methodically descended, about 30 feet to the "moment of truth" as it was known. At that point, the downwards wall went under at 90 degrees and you had to feel underneath, sight unseen, for a ledge that was down about 3 feet and in about 18 inches. There was a chiselled foot hole on the wall a few inches above the overhang-the "white foot hole"- it was called, you couldn't see it on the way down, but a white painted stripe on the wall above it indicated where to slide your foot, until about an inch and a half of the toe of your right shoe slipped in. This same overhang created the biggest nervous moments on the way back up, as a long stretch, followed by a real good push upwards from the "white foot-hole" was required, before safety was at hand. After getting both feet on the ledge under the overhang, one more long step downwards put you on slightly more comfortable footing- a near foot wide ledge, from which you would then turn side on, never letting go of the ropes the entire way down, (other than to change over to the next set). facing north, and descend the next 10 or so feet to "halfway" via a series of small protrusions, about 2 inches wide, where the ropes were also attached to another set of pegs, similar to the top set. The ropes had been carefully measured out when installed, leaving enough rope to reach the halfway ledge, yet enough to travel across to the halfway pegs, which sat about 12 feet to the side of the vertical. "Halfway" was about 2 feet wide and really solid, unlike the series of protrusions just navigated and a spot to get your breath back on the way back up, during the return journey at trip's end. From here it was roughly 60-65 feet down and although the first 10 or so feet offered decent toe holds for your feet, for the next 50 something feet, spots to place your toes on were at a minimum, with not many spots to get any more than just your toes in at best. About 25 feet from the bottom, there was a flat spot on the wall, with no toe holds at all, but 2 holes had been chiselled about 3 feet apart, one exactly below the other. A 3 foot stretch, first hole, then 3 foot to the other, then another 3 foot to better footing. After this, there was a ledge about a foot wide, that you could stand on with both feet, albeit snug against the wall. Then, some basic honeycomb wall, with plenty of places to put your feet and you were down! Although there is a really nice platform down about another 15-20 feet directly out from the climb, about 750 meters south is the main and largest fishing area, complete with a great "cave" and multiple fishing spots, so still about 15 or so minutes of boulder hopping and a couple of simple climbs to go, then fisherman's "paradise"- almost every species of fish commonly caught around Sydney's rocks available. The trip back was generally an easier climb up the ropes, due to the fact that you could see where your feet were going to go, unlike going down, where you were feeling as much as seeing. Over the years, we took plenty of guys down and would tie the "safety rope" around them and then thread the rope around the four pegs at each of the two stages. They still had to climb independently, but the reassurance of the rope around their chest, got them up and down. In around 22 years of going down, only 2 guys "froze" on the cliff face ropes and both had to be manually hauled/dragged up. None of the regulars complained or bagged anyone for getting as far as the ropes and deciding it wasn't for them, some people didn't realise until they were actually viewing the rope climb- always better to be safe than sorry. My own brother finally came down after years of thinking about it and then deciding he wasn't going to attempt the climb back up. He calmly said "when you get up top, just ring the helicopter for me, there's no way I'm climbing back up there" Fair enough, so we called the Police and the Westpac chopper picked him up and dropped in the cliff-side park within 15 mins of the call. They said the same thing- rather pick up a healthy patient than a body. At the bottom of the cliff, you may as well have been in another country, so isolated, yet so close to civilisation, but when we were young and adventurous, it was fitness, fun, fishing and adventure- all within a short distance from Australia's largest city. JUST A WARNING!!- anyone considering doing trips like this, NEVER go without experienced companions- I mean experienced on a regular basis at the actual location you're planning on going to. No adventure is worth risking your life for. Hope those reading enjoyed the read. Cheers Waza

Hairtail's teeth-