A few years ago, I was training down at the Burnley Bouldering wall quite a bit. Having been involved in the initial development and route setting I was always a big fan of the setup and thought it provided a great, free and easily accessible training venue for Melbourne climbers. Unfortunately, after a few years of heavy use, the wall, and the holds, were starting to deteriorate. Climbing on some holds in particular was akin to climbing on polished glass. Speaking about a very popular route on the beach in Thailand called The Lion King, a friend of mine once exclaimed "I felt like a 400 pound gorilla on ice skates" after time and time again slipping of the polished footholds. In it's current state, Burnley was starting to have a similar feel.
The final straw for me came with a bone jarring fall flat onto my back after slipping of two of the biggest jugs you have seen since Pamela Anderson hit our screens on Baywatch back in the 90's. A meeting was set up with the VCC to talk about the future of the wall and how it could be improved. The main objective of the meeting was to discuss how to get the holds cleaned and new routes put up. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, this was deemed "Impossible". We were told it would take weeks and a large amount of money to achieve what we were asking for, and in no uncertain terms that the wall would remain as it was, forever.
As you can imagine, this was extremely frustrating for those who had worked hard to set up this great facility. Why build a modern climbing wall, if you don't plan to ever re-set the problems???
Driving to the Grampians on a Friday night with my good mate Timmy Le, we got talking about the situation at Burnley. Timmy had played a major part in getting the wall up and running, organising all the steel, preparing design drawings and doing the welding. He was even more frustrated than I was. Out of the blue, Timmy said "I still have keys to wall you know?!" At that I moment, I distinctly remember looking at his face; I could see the cogs in his brain turning and I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing. A wry smile came over his face and I knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth... "Stealth Mission"
We started talking about how we could sneak in and re-set a single wall under the radar. What tools would we need? How many people would we need to help? What if we get caught? A dozen or so phone calls later and we had another eight or so eager participants in what had by this stage been dubbed 'Team Action Direct', Vive La Revolution!
The following Saturday, under the cover of darkness our team of mercenaries arrived at the Burnley wall at 5am. We had the 45 degree wall stripped by 7:30am. Using a borrowed trailer and about $15 at the local carwash, we had the holds cleaned by 9:30 and the wall fully reset by mid afternoon proving to "the man" that he was wrong. An entire wall, stripped, cleaned and new problems set in a day, organised in less than a week and at a cost of around $15. Personally I spent another $15 on coffee that day but that's a different story.
Afterwards, my good friend Kent "The Red Duck" Paterson (I use that term loosely), wrote a humorous little story regarding our exploits on Chockstone that I thought would be worth posting here.
I must say that i am mighty concerned about these developments.
As a regular user of this facility, i was unaware of the disruption this "unscheduled route setting" would cause. My good friends Yuji and Francois travelled all the way from southern France to sample this great wall. It has quite a reputation on the international circuit.
Anyhow, we had just started to commence our 36 move warm up circuit on Saturday morning, when we were confronted by 5 hooded individuals at approximately 5:30am. I introduced myself, to try and ease the tension. One balaclava adorned individual parted ways from the pack to greet me. His steely glare hidden by a rather feminine set of spectacles.
I greeted him in a most friendly manner.
"Bonjour gentlemen"
He sneered back at me.
"What are you looking at mate ?!"
Ï responded,
"We are trying to train for Beijing 2012, but your problems... they are very... shall i say, easy"
Grinding his teeth and raising his voice.
"Well, this ain't Paris mate and I sure ain't going to take cheek from a mofo such as yourself. It's time to rack off frogies, we are going to mess some s#it up".
Francois and i were in shock. We had never experienced this type of behavior on the streets of Paris before, nor heard such crude language in a public arena. Francois was so upset at this point that he decided to cancel the circuit and leave immediately.
"Í will not put up wit zis behavior". He then proceeded to walk to Victoria street, to eat croissants and escargots.
Yuji on the other hand grew up in downtown Tokyo, and he made it clear that he wasn't going to have a bar of this heavy handed behavior. He once told me that he worked in a gang as a youth. It's a legitimate career for wayward youths in those parts. He's division was in the procurement and sale of drift-cars to overseas clients. If there was one thing that Yuji learnt from this brief stint, was to never let your guard down. Ever.
My heart skipped a beat. Yuji had just fallen off the circuit. 33 moves out of 36. He knew that this spelled the end of the day, and possibly the impending European circuit in two weeks time. To say that he was unhappy was a massive understatement.
Yuji rose from the ground pointing at a yellow uncarved block hold.
"Yis hold, i am zure it moved".
He was right. It seemed that all the holds were now moving. The holds were being removed from inside the wall. Yugi was furious that his session had been rudely disrupted and he would no longer be in peak condition for future events. He bolted to the back of the wall. And removed his toothbrush. Or what seemed to be tootbrush, it actually doubled as a flick blade.
*Crash... bang*
He charged the offenders but was soon overpowered. His ninga like reflexes were no match for four trained thugs awaiting him, allen-keys in hand. The flick knife dropped to the ground as Yuji began his retreat. Jumping into the Yarra, he began doggy paddling across the river leaving me alone at the scene.
I jumped to the flick knife, knowing that it was my only chance to get out of this hell hole alive. However, like a scene out of a lifesaver competition, i was beaten to the prize by a more athletic competitor. His decidedly small hands were quick. I knew that wrestling with him would prove fruitless, as allen key bandits were still on the loose. I quickly rolled onto my feet. Months of parkour training in London had made me as nimble as a quail and ready for such a situation.
I dashed from the scene. Before i could escape i felt a distinct tug on my jeans.
Close my friend but no cigar, i thought. As i heard him crash into the concrete path.
As i looked back on the scene i saw the common thug laughing in delight. He had captured our only guide to the area. Like confetti at a wedding, the PDF was ripped up and thrown into the Yarra, as the thugs screamed in unison.
"Viva la revolution!!"
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