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Sixteen: The Roof
I was lying on my back, looking up at the sky, it was early morning and the sky was bright pale blue but that was only half of my view. Towering up above me was the Roof. If you walked out onto the roof you didn't know that you were standing on almost nothing, it was a thin meter or so of limestone capping and under that there was a sheer drop for two hundred meters. I had walked out onto the Roof once, when I was a boy, I had walked to the edge and looked down, I was nearly sick. Back then, when I was a boy, I dropped onto my stomach, looked over the edge again and prayed to God to save me, I didn't believe in God but I did believe in hedging my bets. Under either side of the Roof were great crumbling stone cliffs that soared up into the heavens, over a millennium or more the sea had eroded a bay out of those cliffs by its incessant pounding. The bay was more threatening than the cliffs themselves, at the bottom of the bay was a mass of jagged rocks that were smashed twice a day by the incoming tide. Two hundred metres above the bay was the limestone roof, like a giant balcony, or a huge cathedral ceiling.
What I had to do, I figured as I lay at the bottom of the cliffs, was to climb the sheer column of stone at my side of the bay and get onto the Roof. I had no choice, or as we say in Australia, I had two choices: none and Buckley's. I studied the cliff carefully and planned my assault.
First, there was a great bulbous smooth, rounded, rock that I needed to get to the top of, it looked like it was made of granite. After the granite rock there was a goat track, it was level and would be easy. At the end of the goat track I would have to stand up with only inches of space for my feet and then I would have to reach up and grab hold of a small outcrop of rock and, if it didn't break off in my hands, I would have to haul myself up.
If I hadn't fallen off the cliff at this stage I would be in a tight spot but if I was lucky, I could pull myself along on my stomach to a sharp and angular plate of limestone and I could use that to climb pretty much vertically for about twenty meters. When I had done that it would start to get difficult. Huge boulders criss-crossed the cliff face, I was sure I could climb up the great rocks one at a time but the problem was they didn't seem to connect with each other. One boulder didn't have any connection with the next. There were about fifty meters of these giant megaliths to climb and then it got really hard. The cliff face become crumbly limestone mixed with crumbly alkaline clay, I didn't know how on earth I would be able to climb that, the only saving grace here being that it wasn't vertical but had a slight, very slight inward slope. Then I would have to cross about five meters of scree, open loose broken stones, it would be like trying to climb up a hill made of marbles. I wasn't looking forward to that part. After the scree it turned into a melaleuca scrub, still steep but I reckoned I could crawl from melaleuca tree to melaleuca tree. If that all went according to plan I would have one last hurdle, about ten meters of sheer rock but what the hell, I could pole vault the last ten meters. I was getting optimistic.
So, one stage at a time. I had all sorts of aches, pains and injuries so I spent a few minutes limbering up. If it was going to be half as bad as it looked my arms and legs had to be working. I stood in front of the bulbous bolder, took a deep breath and pushed myself up onto it. Pushing and pushing I slowly started to climb, it was round and smooth but its surface was crumbly. To stop myself sliding off I lay flat against the rock with my body and pushed upwards with my feet. My arms were straight above my head and my hands and fingers tried to dig into the rock to stop me from sliding down. Slowly, painfully, I pushed and pushed myself up the rock. I was almost at the top when I started to slide downwards, I hung on for dear life but couldn't stop myself. The rock tore at my clothes and took the skin off my fingers as I tried to hold on. My downward slide gained momentum until I landed with a thud back where I had started.
It was easier the second time, I knew what I was doing but again as I was nearing the top of the boulder I began to slide downwards and towards the edge of the granite bulb where it overhung the sea. If I didn't act quickly I would be falling twenty meters back into the sea, no not into the sea, but onto some spikey looking black rocks. I grabbed at nothing, held on, dug my feet in and pushed my way back up the rock. As I gave my final heave the sun hit my face. I lay for I don't know how long, basking in the sun, basking in my achievement. I looked up, high above me, over the edge of the rock I saw a human head.
'Hey! I shouted, I picked myself up and waved my arms, 'hey.' It just wasn't my day, I was standing somewhat unsteadily, waving my arms like an idiot and I lost my footing. I fell head first down over the great granite ball. My head broke my fall, not a good idea, and I was again lying at the bottom of the boulder. Blood streamed across my face. What the hell was I doing? Life had been easier in the army. I now hated that bloody granite rock and I was going to get to the top or die trying. I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up, it was sheer bloody determination and it got me to the top. I sat down in the sunlight and looked out across the sea. It was still and calm and I could see a school of dolphins breaking the surface and diving in fun. That was the easy part over with.
The roof beckoned. It was tempting to sit on my boulder and wait for help to arrive but it probably never would. No one knew I was there apart from the guys who had thrown me off and they were unlikely to call for help. So I walked along the goat track and came to the rock face. Climbing is not my forte but I knew what had to be done so I reached as high as I could and moved my right hand around trying to find something to hold on to, I found a shallow little crevice and then moved my right leg up to push myself up but there was nothing to push from so I pushed into the rock with my right foot, moved my left hand up the rock face, found a small inconsequential hold and then pushed off with my left foot scraping around to find a foothold. I didn't find one but I pushed off anyway using friction as my friend, friction proved to be a good friend.
It didn't get any easier but I kept pushing up on the merest little slither of anything and I was slowly climbing and my confidence grew. I found a tiny ledge to hang onto and lady luck was on my side, above me the rock was broken and jutted out, I took a chance and grabbed at it, it supported my weight, I swung upwards, found myself fully supported and rested.
I looked around and saw a vertical crack in the cliff face, wonderful, I could use it to wedge my body into. Onwards and upwards, slowly, using my old friend friction, I was able to move up with my feet pushing against one side and my back pushing against the other, basically I was walking up a vertical cliff. Not being content with my slow progress I grabbed hold of some rocks that jutted out from the rock face, the idea being to haul myself up, but they came apart in my hand and crashed down into the sea a hundred or so meters below. I quickly braced myself back in the crevice and, not wanting to crash down with the rocks, I turned back to my old friend friction and slowly pushed, pulled and squeezed myself up the last section of cliff.