The Story Behind the Name
The naming of routes and the stories that are behind the names can be fascinating
I am rereading E. Annie Poulx’s classic book The Shipping News at the moment. In it the main character has a newspaper column where he writes about boats, one column is devoted to Plimsoll Lines, which is also the name of a punchy little 22 on the Flight Deck at Arapiles. Despite having climbed Plimsoll Line several times, I had never really given any thought to what a ‘Plimsoll Line’ actually was – but now I know.
Back in the 1900s many unscrupulous ship owners sent overloaded old ships to sea, filled so heavily their decks would be awash with water. The owners did so knowing that these boats would most likely sink and their crews drown, but they had a rational motive – insurance money. Enter Samuel Plimsoll, a MP from Derby in the Old Country. Plimsoll fought and won a battle for the introduction of painted load lines on the sides of ships. No ship would be allowed to leave a port without these lines being visible. Thus the Plimsoll Line was born.
This got me thinking about the names of routes. Sometimes names are given off the cuff, but just as often a great deal of thought goes into them. Climbers in the 1960s often named their routes from Greek mythology, lines like Agamemnon (11), Pegasus (30,M2) and Titan (17,A3) – and they have a real power. Some names reflect the nature of the line: Coronary Country (26) or the Endless Pitch (24) are obvious examples; you don’t need to climb them to guess at their substance. A name like Serpentine (29) makes double the sense when you wander up that headwall of red stone on Taipan Wall, following the weaving weakness that makes the route possible. Some names are obscene (think Nowra), some are long and pretentious (Shattering Reflections on Narcissism [29]), while others are just pure genius (Jesus Loves Me, the Poofta [25]).
Personally, I like the names that have a story behind them. I don’t know if the Plimsoll Line has a story, but I do know many routes and the stories that lie behind them.
There are some classics like Slinkin’ Leopard (28), so named because it was stolen from Lincoln Shepherd. Another well-known one is Who’s a Naughty Boy (32) on Spurt Wall, which was originally a Gordon Poultney project before it was stolen by Garth Miller. Despite efforts in the guide to rename the route The Tyranny of Distance, climbers still use Miller’s cheeky name. Another route that was stolen on Spurt Wall was Martin Lama’s project, now called Fabio’s Route (29). Fabio’s Route was pinched by English climber, Nick Sellars, but the name came from chalk graffiti at the bottom of the route. As it turns out I know who wrote the graffiti, a local climber who was struck by Martin’s resemblance to the most beautiful man in the universe.
Other names have been born from great tragedy. Like Use Me and Abuse Me (24), a line in King Rat Gully that was put up by Simon Mentz. The name comes from a failed relationship, the details of which I have never bothered to ask, but it was clearly a traumatic experience. Failed relationships are obviously a source of inspiration for Simey, because The Beckoning (26) at Bundaleer is another from the same tragic well.
I must admit that one of the first routes I ever put up was named after a failed relationship, The Girl From Mitre (19). I climbed it when I was 16 and so named it because once at the school bus stop I was told that a girl who came from the township of Mitre (near Arapiles) had a crush on me. Unfortunately I suffered from a crush of my own – crushing shyness, and nothing ever came of it.
More recently I named a route Don’t Make a Monster of Your Mind (26). The name comes from a lamp that my wife’s best friend gave her; when you put a candle in it, the line ‘Don’t Make a Monster of Your Mind’ is projected on the wall. My wife suffers from what Winston Churchill called the ‘black dog’, depression. I have always thought that the gift was a beautiful one, but the name has a double meaning for me. Climbing is nothing if not a battle with your mind as much as with the rock and, just as with depression, it pays to remember that fear can loom larger in your mind than it does in reality.
Ross Taylor
editorial@wild.com.au
