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Bungonia Bungle 11-Jun-2014 At 2:58:22 PM Jahmz

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The long weekend started like many others, the quiet creep away from work early Friday afternoon, the frenzied packing of the car (not great at packing early). Gear check: ropes, gear bag, harness, shoes, lid, 1st aid kit etc. etc. swing buy town, supplies, the food, the grog, fuel. Check, check, check. And then a quick burn up the Hume to the destination of this weekend's sortie.

This Weekend's destination is Bungonia, possibly Australia's greatest limestone chosspit. if you are climbing 26+ Its a paradise with good quality rock and plenty of variety. We are not. Instead we are digging deep in our entrails bag for some guts and balls to go climb an enticing ridge (the devils staircase) seen from one of the lookouts. It looks dark and razor sharp, stirring images of adventure and undiscovered lines.

Saturday morning rolls in and a fresh frost pins us in our sleeping bags until the sun peeks in. we make a gentlemanly start to the 350m elevation decent down the walkers track at around 10am. We had no idea what was in store, so we took EVERYTHING. a largish rack, 2 heavy ropes (for that knife edged limestone), walking boots, climbing shoes, food & water, even a couple of rope protectors. We spied the floor of the gorge approaching and decided to make a break for the ridge. The landmarks we so carefully identified at the top had all dissolved and transformed into an alien landscape but we were keen on an adventure and our GPS was inspiring so we pushed on. It turns out we had come way to far down and had 100m or so of chossy looking limestone above us. I racked up and took off crossing all my fingers and toes with every move that the rock and my gear would hold. As we ascended the chospit, landscaping and gardening as we go, the rock gradually improved. Things are looking up.

About 50m up we took a detour to climb/scramble up a spire that sits away from the main cliff. we find a cairn on top. Lose a bit of our Burke and Wills reminiscence and head back down to climb the main ridge. the rock is pretty good now, plenty of loose stuff, but at least its all hard. I lead out the next 30m with an appealing short crack and bulge followed by the usual loose scramble to a belay at the base of the next wall. Feeling confident my partner romps up after me and carries on leading the next section. This is where things went all askew.

I maintain that we would have been better off heading straight up the steep wall where the rock was good he was doubting his ability and decided to skirt around the edge of the wall to the top of the ridge. the line he chose was made up of a number of short broken walls about 4-5m and steep bushy ledges between. My partner was climbing the third of these walls, mounting a 5ft flake to gain the next ledge when the whole flake gave way on him. He fell back to the last ledge with the 200kg rock landing on his foot then promptly on his face, the rock them proceeded to surf my poor mate down the ledge until the ropes took up and the rook careered off towards the valley floor, cleaning up trees and shrubs like they where paper mache in the rain. I hear a groan and some select profanities, followed by a quick body check.

It's my foot! and I think I have a cut on my face. I look up to see claret pouring down his chin and into his T-shirt. head wounds... yey, at least he had his helmet on. Considering the fuss he was making over his foot and the condition of his face. I was seriously worried about his foot. by the time I got up to him, it was clear that finishing the climb was out before we even got to see the ridge, and a retreat was going to be hard on him. Rescue? not yet damn it. Not while I can carry him out. We make a shaky retreat back towards the gully. I am acutely aware of the heightened risk level to both of us now in a high stress situation. I double check all my actions and remind myself not to be that guy who makes a stupid mistake to be picked to pieces by some bottom feeders on internet forums. He can walk, just. I take all his gear except his harness and pack, stubborn bastard doesn't want to look weak. We skirt around the gully together until we meet the walkers track. He wont stop talking and its opening up his face wound pumping blood out onto his face and shirt. He doesn't think its bad enough for first aid and wont let me look at it, stubborn bastard.

Finding the track was our marker for a self rescue, if we can get there we can get out, so I leave him behind to begin hobbling up the steep walkers track. I slog up track with all the gear to get the walking poles from the car. Turns out we didn't take everything after all. Grab a quick drink and head back down to meet him. He is a machine and is already 2/3 of the way up. the poles are a help and we get back to the car in near record time. Feeling relieved to be out, we celebrate with a hot shower back at camp before heading into Goulburn Hospital. He's talking again on the way in and his face has started bleeding again. We got in before the Saturday night rush, he was stitched up, X-rayed and released in a manner making me glad we don't have the US health system. His foot was lucky with no broken boned but some serious crush damage and impressive bruising.

Another long weekend failing to disappoint in excitement. I'm sure the Queen would be proud. I hope everyone else had a great weekend too. Finally and most importantly,

We got out safely, and didn't need to be rescued.