“She was coming off underneath the roof and taking these monster swings—in harem pants and “She topless, as you do in the 70s. I’d just never seen anything like it. I was from Adelaide, from a really middle-class, conservative background. My eyes were just bulging.”
Louise Shepherd is recounting her introduction to Mt Arapiles, Victoria, a place that’s been at the centre of her life for more than 45 years. This sandstone monolith rises from the flat plains of the Wimmera about 13km from where we sit in her lounge room in Natimuk. The story, full of delight, is interrupted by bursts of her awesome laughter as she relishes the tales she’s got to tell, and still sounds amazed that it all happened. It’s also interrupted by a neighbour dropping round walnut and carrot muffins; by anecdotes about the amazing community she’s part of, by stories about her friends, trips and passions; and by all the signs of a life that’s connected and meaningful.
But back to the topless climber, and the long weekend that started it all. It was the spring of 1978 and Louise was 20, and had only been climbing (top-roping) for a few months. She was watching a group attempting Procol Harum (26), a route that was soon to become the hardest in Australia. One climber was Kim Carrigan—also 20, and already a legend, on his way to becoming Australia’s first sponsored climber. But it was the flying breasts and long blonde hair of his girlfriend Natalie she remembers more.
She speaks about the whole trip with wonder: How little her and her mates knew; that they managed to get up things safely with their rudimentary skills, knowledge and gear. And that awesome sense of a beginning, an unfolding where a piece
