Oskar Wolff Climbs King Line Hunter Project
Oskar Wolff has made the first ascent of one of Flock Hill's most coveted projects, formerly known as King Line Hunter. Oskar named the bloc Dreams Never End and with a speculative grade of V14, this is a contender for one of the hardest boulders in the country. The boulder certainly put up a fight too, read Oskar's report below on the 18 month journey to success:
The process began in the early months of 2024. It was a usual day working from home, checking IT systems and drinking copious amounts of coffee. I was also frequently scrolling for projects on the Castle Hill Basin website, looking for something new. That’s when I saw the King Line Hunter project under the coveted ‘TheNextBigThing’ tag. I asked the walking dictionary of CHB, Alec McCallum, and his description of the problem could not have been closer to my style: burly, crimpy and explosive. 'Rad, that’s another one for the hitlist', I mumbled absent-mindedly, unknowing of what was going to unfold over the next year and half.
For some reason, I had naively pictured a much smaller boulder. When I arrived at the very top of Flock Hill, out of breath and legs screaming, I gawked up at the imposing overhang. The business is in the first 5-meter section and the scary slab makes it a 10-meter line (that's approximately three Bronx caves tall for Wellingtonians). A blank overhang stretches across the entire downhill face, King Line Hunter being the only line with plausible holds. I’ll need to top rope this, I thought. For my first session, however, I just wanted to check out the moves. The first and second move went surprisingly well, and thinking that the second move was the crux, I thought the boulder might go fairly quickly! How foolish I was. After getting close to sticking the second move and solidly destroying my skin, I decided to continue destroying my skin elsewhere.
My second session a few months later went even better, further inflating my blind optimism. This was also the first session I had on it with Joe Dravitzki. I stuck the second move, then the third, and fired off the fourth. It was immediately clear that this would be the crux. Joe followed suit, testing the structural integrity of each hold on his way up. I fear if he squeezed any harder, the whole boulder would turn to dust. We both felt equally close to the send, and having figured out our individual beta, we were psyched for what the next session would hold.
It was about a week later that I felt ready to get on it again, and I was beyond psyched. It was a busy afternoon, and I was frantically typing so I could get my work done and get up to Flock. After shutting my laptop I was out of the house like a shot, and before you could say 'Rad!', I was standing under the bloc again. The conditions felt great and I managed to do the crux and the last hard move in succession: it was on. The sun started to set as I had a couple of super promising tries, barely sliding off the crux sloper. Then, as the last light disappeared behind the mountains, came the attempt I’ll never forget. I executed the first few moves perfectly, and arrived at the crux slap feeling fresher than ever. I stuck the sloper, then the following jump, and that’s when the nerves set in. I hadn’t practiced the last few moves that session, and after dangling for a couple of seconds my left hand fired off in a flash and I plummeted. A sense of panic set in and I was in pure disbelief. My mind was on the boulder but my body was on the ground. How could I be here? I was just about to top it out, and somehow I was lying on the ground. The realisation set in that I wasn’t going to be able to have another attempt. It was so dark I could barely make out the details of each hold. I packed up my stuff and retreated back to the village, tail between my legs.
Despite having punted the worst I ever have, I still had some semblance of spirit. There was still a week left in the trip, and I would at least get one more session in. By the time that session rolled around, I could tell my body and skin weren’t up for it. I still wanted to get some volume in on other problems and I wasn’t about to forfeit all of my precious Hill Time for one boulder. Joe and I tried it together that last session, and both of us got close using our own methods.
It was back to Dunedin after this debacle, and with my Rocklands trip only a month away, I was unsure when I would get to try it next. This led to one of the worst decisions I have made for a climbing trip. The friendly rivalry I had with Joe on the boulder had turned into something much bigger in my head. Especially after being so close to doing it, I couldn’t face the very possible reality of not getting the FA. Fueled by pride, I drove with my injured partner Emma up to Flock for a short weekend trip. The conditions looked bad, my body was already quite sore, and my skin wasn’t the best either. In the face of all reason, I was still adamant that I would send the boulder, even if it felt rushed. With Emma out of action, we went straight up to the boulder. Even standing under it I felt off. Of course I was psyched to try it, but I had a deep sense that I shouldn’t be there. The session went terribly and with rain coming in the next day, it was going to be a very short trip. This gave me a lot to think about on the long drive home.
During my time in South Africa, I was able to do a lot of reflecting. I knew my motivation was coming from the wrong place, but I had my pride to get over. If I was going to approach the boulder the right way again I had to shift my mindset. Being able to try such a beautiful line in a picturesque landscape is already a privilege, and something I often dreamt of as a youngster. Spoiling the moment and process with my poor attitude was truly a shame. Getting over myself and sourcing my motivation from within was the spark I needed to really give it the beans. Due to a crucial foot chip breaking off and a bad finger injury, my newfound motivation was postponed until June this year. By this point, Joe and I had collectively spent what felt like an age thrashing ourselves on this boulder. With both of us having had so many attempts, we really wanted the boulder done, whether it was by Joe or myself. Chatting about this ‘race for the FA’ business with Joe made it much easier to relax, and suddenly the tension around the topic dissipated. Whoever sent it first would be just as deserving as the other. Having cleared the air and my mind, it was go time. Doing the right things at the right time is crucial for hard projects, and I was with it this time around. I roped the top slab, making sure that all the smeary footholds were clean. I rehearsed the last easy section before the mantle, checking for certain that I would have it if I got there. I chalked all the holds, ticked the slopey lip and made sure to warm up thoroughly. With 4 mondos and some good friends spotting, I was ready to give it some rips. All of my attempts were promising. I was climbing deliberately and felt focused on each of them. Around an hour in, I had given it five or so goes and I was starting to tire. Alec and Emma were sipping on a particularly delicious Earl Grey which I was permitted to hold to warm up my cold mitts. After sneaking a sip, I was prepared to give it everything. The tiny undercling bit into my taped fingers and I gritted through the second move. I took a deep breath while setting up for the crux, and this time I just managed to stick the lip. Getting to where I punted it last time I expected a wave of anxiety, but it didn’t come. I stayed focused and in the moment until I found myself standing on the slab. While I waited for a pad re-shuffle, Emma attempted to throw up a chalk bag. A couple of poor throws and missed catches later, I clipped it around my waist and tip-toed up the mildly damp slab to glory.
This boulder had put me through the wringer, and aside from the exhilaration you get from topping out a project, I also felt a sense of appreciation. I was almost thankful that I had fallen a year ago, and learned what I did. The name Dreams Never End sat right with me, partly because the New Order song always reminded me of the boulder, but also because the name speaks to the never-ending process of projecting. There will always be a 'Next Big Thing' to try, and now the cycle starts over. Not knowing what’s next provides an opportunity to look for new lines, and I’m excited to see what I will find.
Main photo: Derek Thatcher