http://www.climber.co.uk may–jun 2020 45
Macca climbed and learnt by misadven-
ture. I am not sure about this following
skill but on a teenage camping trip a
mate of his carved a tattoo on his left
bicep. It is a cross with a skull carved
into it, very pirate-like. I had to ask him
what his mum thought of that at the
time. In a soft-spoken laconic drool that
is quintessentially Macca, he said: “You
know by the time I got home had this
tattoo. I said, Hi Mum, showed her my
tat and there you go.”
At this time his climbing life got
interrupted by sex, drugs, rock and
roll and a bit of growing up. He met
a partner and fathered three daughters
living an adult life in Kingswood,
working as a technician, studying at
uni and as the wheel of life turned, he
raised his girls, at times as a sole parent.
After his relationship soured so did he,
the suburban world was not his flow
and in the late 1990s, he got back into
climbing full-time as it was the only
activity (other than smoking) where he
felt whole. He spent time working as a
manager and route setter at a climbing
gym in Blacktown West of Sydney. This
part of Macca’s life was difficult, but he
retreated to where he felt safe and could
gather himself.
In the Blue Mountains a 100k west
of Sydney there is a cliff on the edge of
a town called Katoomba. The locals
call the cliff The Katoomba Landslide,
climbers came to call it Dog Face. Only
the crazy climb there and Macca felt at
home. This was to become Macca’s
sacred place. “I lived at the bottom of
Dog Face for a while because of it all
but still went to see the kids.” Other
members of the Blue Mountains
Climbing Community looked out for
him at this time letting him camp at
their place or inviting him home to
share a meal. He was finding a place
in his new community and climbing
gave him something to look up for. Zac
Vertrees his climbing buddy shares a
memory of this time: “I would call out
from the top of Dog Face once in a while
to see if Macca was bivvied at the base
of the wall. He would shout back, Coffee
and Cones! That was the Dog Face
warm-up so to speak.”
Macca has a way of explaining things
and I found his straight-up explanation
of climbing refreshing. “The way I sum
up my crazy is easy. When people have
asked me, is this dangerous Sir? I reply,
yes Sir, it’s fucking crazy. The crazy was
and is the attraction.” He toked from his
roll-up and continued, smoke billowing
out through his whiskers along with his
words: “Climbing is dangerous, you
either embrace it and face up to it in
some way or you’re just not climbing.”
This is evident in Macca’s recent
climbing. He and Zac are two leaders in
an undercurrent of talented climbers
who are stepping out of the gridlocked
sport climb scene and seeking to find
their limits in repeating old school test
pieces and putting up bold new routes.
They are enjoying what they find there.
Zac is one of Australia’s top all-round
climbers. Recently Zac and Macca went
historical, stepping up to climb routes in
the Warrumbungles in New South Wales,
they soloed the South Arête on Tonduron
Spire (5- 190m) and checked out someKeith Bell and John Fantini routes.
Macca and Zac completed Caucasus
Corner on Belougery Spire (17, 325m)
via an accidental right-hand variant.
They were working on a 50th anniversary
of Ginsberg (19, 332m) as it was Macca’s
56th Birthday but he said: “I was a bit
shagged, dodgy knee, so we left it for
another time.”
There is something about climbing
that gets Macca’s motor running and
the further he is from the car or out
from his last piece of gear the better
he feels about himself. 6Macciza Macpherson – a Blue Mountains DirtBag
Macca on the sharp end
during the attempt to free
the old aid route Colossus
on the beautiful but rather
crumbly Dog Face in the Blue
Mountains. The first ascent
was originally put up as an
aid climb by the legendary
John Ewbank in 1969 at
Aussie grade M6 - A3.