Climbing at Charleston and the journey to the west coast

Sandflies were literally battering at the windows of the van this morning. With a low mist on the hills and a little light drizzle outside there was no rush to get up. Except to get out and away to the west coast! We drove a long and winding road through the damp forested mountains before arriving in the town of Murchinson more or less in the centre of the Island. It was just before midday and we pulled up by a country and western band that were belting out some good thigh slapping tunes outside the 'rust and dust' junk store. It was like arriving at some frontier outpost in a time warp.

From there, we continued westward alongside the mighty Buller River which looked to have some fantastic kayaking terrain. The rain poured down though, so we pressed on...

Arriving near the coast, we found Westport was only slightly more modern than Murchinson and didn't really seem to have much going on, so didn't hang around after refuelling.

 

And then, soon after we reached the end of the road and the fabled west coast - the road literally ran out at the beach!

It was a spooky atmosphere at the beach. The rain has stopped and we could feel the heat of the sun trying to burn off the sea mist. It was low tide so the sea was quite a way off as we roof a walk along the empty beach. The sand was dark, warm and really fine with glittering sediments.

We had hoped to surf at the beach, but although there was a swell, the waves were all broken, messy and not particularly inviting. We decided instead to carry on down the coast a little way to the cliffs and bays of Charleston. 

Having located the correct bay to park in, we cooked some egg butties and took stock of our situation. Since the mornings damp start, with the clouds now breaking up, it became intensely hot. Potentially too hot to climb!? But with rain forecast again later we decided to go and take a chance while it was at least dry.

It was a short (thankfully) sweaty mission through low level jungle. A path had literally been bulldozed through the undergrowth.

Out on the cliff tops the views were great and there was a slight cooling breeze. Big lines of waves were battering the coastline. We sat atop of headland to survey the climbing area, watch the waves crashing up the cliffs and generally try and cool down a bit.

To get to the best climbing area involved scrambling around a wave cut platform. Even though we were there an hour or so after low tide, the rough seas were making the traverse look like a somewhat challenging prospect! Every now and then a big wave would boom into the lower cliff, sending an explosion of spray some twenty meters into the air! 

There was also a big blow hole just below us, which every now and then would erupt, sending a jet of spray up into the air!

In the end we opted to climb a route that seemed to have no such death defying approaches and yet would still give us a taste of the climbing at Charleston. We left our bags on the headland, kitted up and scrambled down a short bath, to the platform level with the blow hole. The ground shook when the water shot up, so we hurriedly sorted our ropes and began our exit climb!

The rock was good quality Gneiss and on a calmer day, I'd have loved to have climbed the longer routes on the main wall around the corner. However, contending with the heat, the crashing waves and now finally, the incessant Sandflies that were buzzing around us, we'd decided that we were happy to call it a day once we'd reached the top!

We camped up at 'Jack's Gasthof' just a five minute drive from the cliffs. It's run by a German couple and is very nice, quiet and organised. They'll even cook you fresh pizza if you want. The only slight (and somewhat ruinous for us) down side is that they are plagued with Sandflies!

Sandflies are bigger than Welsh miggies and much more blood thirsty! They bite and draw blood! We got ourselves sealed into the van asap and wondered how people here live with them?!