_DEEP GHYLL. THE GREAT CHIMNEY AND PROFESSOR’S CHIMNEY_
DEEP GHYLL.--This will remain for long a favourite resort of
climbers, partly because the two pitches are always interesting and
may be turned in so many different ways, partly because the gully
gathers annually a big snow drift, which can generally be relied upon
between Christmas and Easter to afford some practice in the use of the
ice-axe, and partly because the rock scenery is of the finest character
throughout. The ghyll has been familiar to the visitors of Scawfell for
many years. It was first ascended in March, 1886, by Messrs. Geoffrey
Hastings and Slingsby, and an interesting account of the expedition
appeared in the ‘Alpine Journal.’ It had been descended twice before,
in 1882, by Messrs. Mumm and King, with heavy snow blocking the
pitches, and in 1884 by Mr. Haskett Smith. The quickest way of reaching
the foot of the ghyll is to walk up Brown Tongue till within a couple
of hundred feet of the level of Hollow Stones. It is here unnecessary
to keep straight over towards the centre of Mickledore, for a shallow
depression to the right of Brown Tongue may be traversed obliquely
upwards, and the scree struck close to the well-defined edge of the
lower crags of Scawfell. Thence it is best to keep close under the
cliffs, following an easy gradient up to the Lord’s Rake. This is the
large scree gully passing up to the right, under the main mass of
Scawfell. The scree forms at the foot of the Lord’s Rake the usual
fan-shaped talus, which here stretches down towards Hollow Stones. In
summer it may occasionally be worth while making directly up the centre
of the scree.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
DEEP GHYLL, FIRST PITCH]
Just opposite the corner round which one turns into the Lord’s Rake
a rather slightly marked gully starts up from the side of the rake.
It becomes better defined a few yards higher, and leads directly
into Steep Ghyll. Almost at the same spot a ledge is to be noticed
passing round to the left of the huge wall fronting us at this corner.
This is the start of the Rake’s Progress, the happy name given to
the well-known terrace leading to Mickledore. We shall have further
occasion to allude to this ledge, but we now pass up the Lord’s
Rake till in a few feet we come to a magnificent gully on our left,
recognizable under any conditions except the most snowy by the cave
at its foot. A fine View of Deep Ghyll and its surroundings may be
obtained by scrambling up to the low ridge that faces us as we look
outwards from the cave. The ridge is somewhat broken up, and the
terrible accident that caused the death of Professor Milnes Marshall
at this spot must be a warning to any who wander up without thought of
danger.
The orthodox route up the first pitch in Deep Ghyll is by the cave and
chimney. It is the most interesting way, and probably in dry clean
weather it is the easiest. When the chimney is cased with ice the route
may become impossible. In that case a recess in the right wall (right,
of course, when looking up at the climb) is often taken as a winter
emergency exit; for although the holds are slight in summer, loose
stones well bound up make it quite feasible in frosty weather.
The hardest way up the pitch is by the thin cleft between the big
boulder and the left wall.
Passing up for about 150 feet we find a steep slope of rock occupying
the left half of the gully. The scree in the other half leads up into a
cave whose black rectangular aperture may have been observed from the
Lord’s Rake ridge. The cave is formed by the ubiquitous jammed boulder,
and no through route can be effected. A thin chimney cuts between the
rock slope and the huge vertical left wall that rises with scarcely a
break to the Low Man on the Scawfell Pinnacle. This chimney constitutes
the easiest and safest route over the second pitch. On the right face
an irregular ledge leads to a larger chimney (Robinson’s), which with
some trouble can be followed till a level about twenty feet above the
top of the cave pitch is reached. Thence a small terrace offers an easy
promenade to the upper bed of the gully. A third way of taking the
difficulty has been found; indeed, it is the most obvious way, though
much the hardest. It is to climb the left wall of the cave entrance,
and then wriggle up between the rock slope and the cave boulder.
There are many pleasant reminiscences of parties in Deep Ghyll. The
hardest struggle I ever had with the first pitch was on Christmas
Day, 1897. The rocks were badly glazed, and though we had no trouble
in penetrating to the inmost recesses of the cave, we could find no
easy way of getting higher. We were loth to try, seeing that one of
our party had, with a mistaken philanthropy, loaded his rücksack with
preserved fruit, prunes, and Carlsbad plums, and proceeded forthwith
to dignify our primitive lunch with these unwonted luxuries. A halt
called to consume a beef sandwich may be quickly terminated--and
that, moreover, without a sense of sorrow, unless the beef is very
bad--but those who know Carlsbad plums will realise how easily we were
demoralised by their seductiveness, and how much we preferred to sit in
our cave and argue on complicated topics with the plum-box open. But
the owner was a man of some resolution, and heroically vowed that we
should see no more of the plums till we reached a small recess at the
top of Moss Ghyll, where we should ensconce ourselves after climbing
the gully. So we made a start at once. The back way out of the cave
promised well at first. It showed no trace of ice, but on emerging
from the chimney (at the spot where the lower figure is shown in the
View facing p. 12), and looking straight down to the entrance of the
cave, it was found that a thin sheet of ice covered all the rocks.
Generally speaking it would be better to let the rocks alone on such
an occasion--in fact always, unless Carlsbad plums are at stake. Then,
perhaps, the second man may be held firmly by the rope from behind
while he gives the leader a shoulder. This help is of no use unless
the leader can venture to trust the icy handhold above him, by which
he is to swing round the awkward corner to the right. Some such scheme
our party devised, after many futile attempts to fix an axe firmly as
a foothold, and the leader dragged himself up the glazed surface to
the deep snow above. In the ordinary state of things, be it remembered
that where the climber emerges from the hole, he has first to stride
round to a small ledge on the right. He can use as a take-off the
rough surface of the boulder, and can reach a rigid handhold of small
dimensions but good shape. Thence to the top of the pitch is easy
scrambling, though care is needed.
The snow in the gully was in grand condition for kicking steps, and
after the last man had been brought up the pitch in safety we marched
to the upper cave and discussed the question of route over the second
pitch. The direct way was ruled out of court at once, for its largest
ledges are but half an inch wide, and ice on these rendered them
useless. With a keen recollection of our trouble down below, we thought
of the Robinson Chimney on the right, which is quitted by crossing
on to a slabby rock that slopes down towards the centre of the gully.
With ice on this an attempt to force the way up would more likely find
us shooting over to the foot of the cave. Such a finish to our little
day would no doubt exactly coincide with the anticipations of our more
sanguine relatives and friends, but for the moment we had to consider
each other’s feelings and I suggested the easy way up. There was a
smiling unanimity of agreement in the party which pleased me far, very
far more than a hundred strictly impossible ascents. We descended the
gully again to the foot of the rock slope, and rounded into the little
chimney. Things went very well for a few feet. But as we rose the ice
became more troublesome, until it was necessary to chip it away from
each diminutive ledge, and to proceed upwards with the utmost caution.
The first part finished with a little snow patch twenty feet above the
top of the cave boulder and the bed of the ghyll. Some years before,
when first I visited Deep Ghyll, we had found it impossible to climb
directly upwards from this point, and a man was let down by the rope
into the ghyll. He cut steps up until he had obtained a higher level
than the others waiting, and then induced them to traverse out a bit
and jump into the snow below. The process was possible only with a long
rope. Here we could all rest and contemplate the rock slab opposite
which finishes the Robinson Chimney. Forty or fifty feet higher we
could see, well marked out by the snow, the upper traverse that enables
a careful walker to pass up Deep Ghyll without any hand-and-foot work.
It is readily accessible from the Lord’s Rake, a few feet higher than
the ordinary entrance to Deep Ghyll, and leads at an easy angle to a
point in the main gully some hundred feet above the second pitch.
Looking up at the left wall of the Ghyll we could see that our slender
chimney was but the beginning of a long crack that cut obliquely into
the wall, and curled upwards in a fine sweep of eighty feet towards the
summit of the Low Man. The curtain of rock that closed in the crack
on its right hand made our next few yards rather troublesome, for it
encroached on our ledge and rendered the work too open. Facework is
always more trying than chimney climbing, especially when ice is about.
But the leader’s recollection of the ease with which this part could
be overcome in summer time divested it of all its fancied terrors and
perhaps of some of its real dangers, and he had therefore a better time
of it than his companions, whose extremities were somewhat benumbed
by their patient waiting in awkward places, and whose activities were
confined to their vivid imaginations. All actual danger was over when a
horizontal ledge was reached well above the centre-level of the gully,
which we followed with ease to the broken rocks that almost form a
third pitch for Deep Ghyll.
Here the pleasantest way of finishing the day was to cut steps in the
snow up the central gully, the angle gradually steepening from 35° to
55° at the top. That way we therefore took, and were soon enjoying
the plums. But a rise of a few feet will show the Professor’s Chimney
immediately to the left, cutting deeply into the rock between the
Scawfell Pinnacle on the left and Pisgah on the right, and terminating
at a fine-looking notch, ‘The Jordan,’ in the sky-line. Exactly
opposite, on the right-hand side of the ghyll, is the Great Chimney, a
black and formidable square-walled recess crowned by a jammed boulder.
This was for a long time regarded as impossible and scarcely ever
attacked, but at last it yielded to the combined ingenuity of Messrs.
Blake and Southall, and has since shown itself to be very amenable when
approached with due precaution.
_First pitch, New route._--The Christmas Day of 1896 was very windy and
cold. Our party had fought continually against the weather all the way
to Deep Ghyll, and inasmuch as we had only the previous day arrived
at Wastdale our limbs were scarcely fit for such a desperate grind.
I had the pleasurable responsibility of guiding a lady, Mrs. H., who
had been persuaded to accompany her husband on a winter excursion. We
had a great deal of very soft snow to get through on our way up, and I
was looking forward to a long halt in the lower cave, where we should
at least be protected from the wind and snow. Great was our distress
when we found the entrance completely blocked up by a huge drift. It
must have been fully twenty feet deep in front of the cave, and the
prospect was most disheartening. In disgust I clambered up the wall
immediately to the right of the boulder, and at last managed to reach
the aperture leading into the cave from above. It was festooned with
huge icicles, and at first the entrance looked effectually blocked.
Smashing down the ice with the energy of despair, the tremendous
clatter suggesting to my friends that of a bull in a hardware shop, I
discovered that the chimney was only iced at its entrance, and that the
upper storey of the cave could be reached. Some of the others quickly
followed, and we found ourselves in a spacious chamber into which the
great heap of snow had scarcely encroached. This was delightful. We
threw ourselves into the drift that blocked the main entrance, and cut
away at it with vigour till at last we had tunnelled through to the
daylight. The biggest man of the party yet remained outside and we
persuaded him to insert his legs into the aperture. Without giving him
time to change his mind we seized his boots and hauled hard. For one
dread moment we thought him jammed for ever, but immediately afterwards
we found ourselves lying on our backs in the cave with a yawning
opening in the snow-drift, the while our massive friend measured his
diminished circumference with a loop of rope. The others then came in
and made themselves at home on ropes, ice-axes, and other people’s
cameras. We were a party of ten, large enough to be a merry one.
Our surroundings were weird and savage, unlike the British notions for
a Christmas Day, but I remember that we behaved like civilized people
in perhaps one respect. We discussed the year’s literature. Fancy
Troglodytes discussing ‘Trilby’! Then it occurred to us that our feet
were very cold, and that we should not have much daylight for climbing
if we waited longer. Our intention had been to climb Deep Ghyll in
two separate parties, by the ordinary way. But the drift suggested a
trial of the crack up the left-hand side of the first pitch. The snow
would serve as a high take-off, and also a good cushion to soften the
fall if the leader were destined to fail. The first difficulty was to
get safely into the crack; then it was found that the holds were very
scarce, and the recess somewhat too constricted to allow any bracing
across from one side to the other.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
SCAWFELL PINNACLE AND THE PROFESSOR’S CHIMNEY]
Think of a foothold; double it. Put your whole weight on to it as
you straighten out. Take away the hold you thought of, and you will
find yourself wondering how you got there. In some such vague way are
very bad bits climbed, and while gasping for breath at the top the
climber usually feels that it was the worst place he has ever been in.
Seriously, however, this route is severe at all times. In summer the
drift is absent, but with rocks slightly wet, as they usually are in
that corner, the effort of working upwards is extreme. It is probably
best to keep one’s back to the boulder all the way up.
My section of the party came up first. We were very cold, and some
fear that Mrs. H. would have frost-bite prompted us to change our minds
concerning Deep Ghyll, and to traverse away to the left towards the
foot of Steep Ghyll. The others came up the pitch by our route, led in
good style by Mr. H. V. Reade. They expressed regret at our untimely
departure, and worked laboriously up the ghyll. It was ungenerous of us
that evening to gloat over the fact that they had had a terribly cold
time of it higher up.
Our route out of the ghyll was known to Mr. Haskett Smith in 1882.
It is not often used, and, indeed, in winter it offers certain risks
of its own. Starting from the top of the pitch we bore directly down
towards the entrance to Lord’s Rake, and when within a reasonable
distance of the snow, jumped down to it, sinking in up to our necks.
Hurrying down to Hollow Stones as fast as our limbs would carry us, we
endured the pangs of returning circulation in our hands and feet, and
finished the descent in exhilaration, and with a sense of having well
earned our share of the Christmas festivities.
_Second pitch, Variety routes._--A description of the direct way over
the second pitch is scarcely necessary. The leader must start just at
the entrance to the cave, and work up the corner to the recess between
the jammed stone and the cave boulder. The holds are minute, and the
necessary stress on the finger tips excessive. He should try it first
when there is snow below him, and with his second arranged to pay
out twenty feet of rope from the innermost corner of the cave. If the
leader is destined to slip, it will take place at the point where the
slope suddenly becomes easier, for then his fingers are fatigued, his
centre of gravity wants for the first time an onward as well as an
upward motion, and his foothold will fail him at the crisis. Therefore
his centre of gravity will describe the ordinary parabola back into
the snow, and the tremendous jerk on the rope will make the man wonder
whether the remains of his centre of gravity are worth retaining.
Supposing that he has safely rounded this awkward edge, the utmost
caution is necessary for six feet till the scree is reached. Then comes
the trouble of manipulating the rope without shaking down stones on
the next man who is to pass up. If the leader wants the rope to be in
actual tension on his account, he has a hard task in bracing himself
firmly without dislodging the scree from under his feet. This trouble
of course is minimised when good firm snow can be cut to supply him a
footing.
On the whole this direct route over the second pitch may be regarded
as too risky, except under the best possible circumstances--such, for
example, as existed when Messrs. Robinson and Creak found the two
pitches in Deep Ghyll entirely covered with snow, and an easy route
available straight up the middle from bottom to top. Then there was no
second pitch!
The chimney on the right is excellent, but is not a course open to
beginners. It is in two parts. At the two places where it must be
quitted the route lies up the buttress on the left. I recall the remark
of an unenterprising follower as he looked up at the vertical walls
above him; he had been in difficulty down below and was inquiring
my intentions. His patience had been all but exhausted, and he said
so, adding: ‘It is not merely steep parts that so upset me. They can
be borne, but I don’t like this infernal dangling.’ The discussion
was diverted into a side issue, as to whether the adjective was
permissible, but in justice to his memory--he never visited the Lakes
again--be it said that very few climbers like the sensation of suspense.
THE GREAT CHIMNEY.--The position of this has already been
defined. Its ascent affords the best finish to the Deep Ghyll climb if
snow is absent from the gully and the screes are wearisome. The aspect
of the chimney is most forbidding from below, and there is probably
but one way of vanquishing it. I had been told how the first party had
proceeded up it, and had also heard an account of their defeat at a
second attempt. There is much likelihood of defeat even when one knows
the way, by reason of the awkwardness of the corner that needs careful
negotiation, and I am bound to admit that a first ascent rapidly
accomplished may help the climber very little in his second attempt. At
the time of my visit the rocks were warm and dry, our party of three
had just come up Collier’s Climb, and were keen on completing their
knowledge of Scawfell by making for the only chimney with which they
were unacquainted. We all gathered together high up in the recess,
and then, when the rope had been satisfactorily arranged for a long
run out, I started working up the right wall by some small but strong
ledges till the roof of the cavern was approached. Then it became
necessary to work out of the cave and round by the jammed stone. Just
outside was a ledge within reach for the hands; but to work the body
up the corner so as to kneel on the ledge was very awkward, the main
trouble arising from the depressing effect of the corner of the jammed
stone which forced head and shoulders almost to the level of one’s
feet. The prayerful attitude realized, I could anchor myself a little
by looping the rope round a stone in the roof and had then only to
stand up and clamber between the boulder and the living rock, trusting
to footholds on the latter. A few feet landed me in safety and the
others came up like smoke, carrying my cap that the gymnastics round
the corner had shaken down to them. A short scree and a few easy rocks
completed the gully, which both in regard to the aspect from above and
to the form of its one great difficulty reminded us of the Shamrock
Gully over in Ennerdale. The main differences in these two pitches are
that the Shamrock Gully pitch looks easier but proves to be harder,
also that it has less cave and more boulder. Neither pitch is suitable
for beginners.
By walking across to the foot of the lower part of Professor’s
Chimney--a name, by the way, given first to the easy exit on the right
of Pisgah--a pitch of some severity can be taken or left, as fancy
dictates. The platform above this pitch leads well into the chimney and
the climb again gets stiff. A direct ascent of the pinnacle is probably
feasible from this level, but the first thirty feet will need the
utmost enterprise on the part of the daring aspirant to fresh honours
in this well-explored region.
THE PROFESSOR’S CHIMNEY.--This looks almost as difficult as the
Great Chimney opposite, but is more a test of style than skill, the
only trouble being that of loose rocks. Though unworthy of perfect
confidence at all times, it may become most friendly in times of frost;
many loose stones occur that can be safely _pressed_ though dangerous
to _pull_, so that with a slight modification of style they are
rendered highly useful. Then of course two loose stones may share one’s
weight when one cannot take it.
The introduction of all this elementary practical mountaineering is
due to my recollection of a huge stone that came away near the top of
the Professor’s Chimney when my party were coming up it. I was out of
harm’s way on the Jordan above, but in wrestling with the last part of
the chimney, a portion that slightly overhangs, the second in the party
pulled away the rock. It bounded down, ricochetting from side to side,
and for a moment placed the startled climbers in imminent peril.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
SCAWFELL CRAGS FROM THE PULPIT ROCK]
In conclusion, just a word to pedestrians who have come out to climb
only by telescope. The ascent of Scawfell from the Lord’s Rake may be
safely and rapidly accomplished by following its lead past the entrance
to Deep Ghyll.
The best plan is to keep as straight a course on the scree as the
up-and-down nature of the Rake will permit, with the steep rocks
immediately on the left. A pinnacle is almost at once passed on the
right that in former times was oft mistaken by the unlearned for the
great Scawfell Pinnacle, more especially because a cairn had been
erected on its crest as a decoy, by the wily discoverer of the true
pinnacle. Then it becomes necessary to descend a little, taking care
not to slither down to the right with the loose _debris_. After a few
yards the slope again rises for a while, and an easy gully shortly
discloses itself on the left, following which the tourist will
find himself in a few minutes on the stony plateau that at an easy
inclination travels away westward to Burnmoor. In clear weather he
will see the huge cairn that crowns the top of Scawfell, at a slight
elevation above the top of the gully, and can safely make a bee-line
for it. Climbers often descend by this route in bad weather when the
Broad Stand appears to elude their anxious search.
The quickest way down from Scawfell is to make for the head of this
gully, and then, instead of descending, leave it on the right and
follow the edge of cliff straight towards the head of Wastwater;
where the edge is deflected to the left, a scree-run to the foot of
Brown Tongue takes us over rough but safe ground to the diminutive
footpath that starts at the stone wall. It should be learnt first in
clear weather, if possible, as there is no royal road to safety for the
befogged novice on the fells.