_MOSS GHYLL, COLLIER’S CLIMB, AND KESWICK BROTHERS’ CLIMB_
MOSS GHYLL.--There are accounts of explorations of this famous
gully as far back as 1889. It was styled Sweep Ghyll by Mr. R. C.
Gilson, partly for euphonious grouping with Deep Ghyll and Steep
Ghyll, and partly as a suggestion of ‘the probable profession of its
future first climber.’ In June, 1889, a strong set of four managed to
penetrate upwards into its recesses a yard or two beyond Tennis Court
ledge, 300 feet above the Rake’s Progress, and almost exactly half way
from start to finish. Here the explorers saw the great jammed boulders
apparently barring all further progress, and decided to return the way
they came. Then, a few days later, another party went round to the top
of the gully and descended to the lower edge of the small scree that
so quietly terminates the high and difficult last chimney. Here they
firmly anchored themselves, and let down an adventurous member on 160
feet of rope. He descended in this way as far as the upper portion of
the great obstacle in the middle of the gully, but saw no way whatever
for an ascending party to circumvent or attack successfully the immense
barrier. He apparently realized that the upper chimney could be fairly
climbed, though of course it would tax the resources of the best of
cragsmen; but the jammed boulders he judged to be insuperable, and
returned to tell his companions the melancholy news. They left Moss
Ghyll with the conviction that it would never be climbed, and until
December, 1892, everyone else who came and saw turned back with much
the same impression.
On the 27th of that month Messrs. Collie, Hastings, and Robinson made
a determined attack on the ghyll. The winter was exceptionally fine
and the rocks were clean and dry. They easily reached the Tennis Court
ledge, and thence traversed into the gully. Penetrating the cave below
the big pitch, Dr. Collie, who was leading, climbed up to the roof
and out by a small window between the jammed boulders. Thence, by the
ingenious expedient of hacking at a thin undercut plate of rock, he
exposed a small foothold on the wall that enabled him to traverse out
from the pitch and into a place of safety beyond. Thence to the top of
the pitch was an easy matter, and the remaining members of the party
quickly followed him. It has since been discovered that the hardest
part of the gully was yet before them. They, however, had practically
solved the main problem, and were contented to work out of the gully by
steep ‘mantelshelf’ climbing up to the left. The honour of the first
strict ascent of Moss Ghyll fell to Dr. Collier a few days later,
who climbed the ghyll from beginning to end under the impression that
the previous party had done the same. Dr. Collier was accompanied by
four others, and was emphatic in his opinion that the final chimney
represented the hardest part of the climb. Two days later he took
up Professors Marshall and Dixon, and from the former I obtained
sufficient information to start off one morning on my own account to
learn for the first time what Moss Ghyll was like.
It was distinctly a day of adventure, and I learnt a great deal
concerning the ghyll. The passage across the Collie step appeared
to me the most difficult, but the loose slabs over which one has to
walk adroitly were then covered with fresh snow. The famous step was
invisible, and I had to stoop and scrape in order to determine its
exact shape and position. At the first attempt on the traverse I
slipped, and fell into the snow-bed of the gully below. The result
was scarcely surprising, though eminently uncomfortable. But the
falling was, under the circumstances, almost part of the programme,
and a rope had been fixed in the interior of the cavern, passed out
through the ‘window,’ and then attached to my waist, to eliminate the
danger of plunging some 400 feet down to the foot of the gully. The
second attempt was successful, though I confess to a feeling of lively
apprehension as the critical point was being passed.
Thence to the parting of the ways was easy travelling, and an exit
was made by the left-hand route. I returned two days after to fetch
axe and rope, that had been left at the big pitch, but it was not
until the Whitsuntide of 1896 that a suitable opportunity occurred of
visiting Moss Ghyll at its best, for the purposes of comparison and of
exploration of the direct finish. During that interval the climb had
been repeated many times, and Moss Ghyll was by way of becoming ‘an
easy day for a lady.’ Hot-headed youths would arrive fresh at Wastdale,
inquire for the hardest thing about, and at the mention of Moss Ghyll
would straightway fling themselves into the breach and by hook or crook
wriggle themselves up and out in triumph. Others were unsuccessful,
and it was always amusing to learn where the stupendous difficulty
had arisen, where no mortal man could have gone further. The personal
equation was always in evidence, both in the actual climbing and in the
history thereof.
[Illustration:
PLATE II.
SCAWFELL FROM THE PULPIT ROCK (p. 26).
The height of Pisgah above the Lord’s Rake is about 520 feet.
_a_ Scawfell Chimney.
_b_ Broad Stand (p. 30).
_c_ Penrith or North Climb (p. 40).
_d_ Collier’s Climb.
_e_ Keswick Brothers’ Climb.
_f_ Moss Ghyll.
_g_ Dr. Collie’s Variation-exit.
_h_ Steep Ghyll.
_j_ Pinnacle Climb from Lord’s Rake.
_k_ Low Man.
_l_ Scawfell Pinnacle (pp. 69 and 76).
_m_ Pisgah.
_n_ North Ridge of Pinnacle (p. 83).
_p_ Lord’s Rake.
_q_ Easy Terrace into Deep Ghyll.
_r_ Great Chimney.
_s_ Entrance to Deep Ghyll (p. 12).
_t_ Rake’s Progress.
_v_ Mickledore Screes.
_w_ Mickledore.
_x_ West Wall Climb (App.).]
My companions at Whitsuntide were Messrs. W. Brigg and Greenwood.
Neither of them had been in the ghyll before, but both were very keen
to make its acquaintance, though so far as reading could take them the
smallest details of the climb were perfectly well known. We separated
off from a larger party on the Rake’s Progress, and at the entrance
to the gully, which I have already defined in position, we roped up
and began the rock climbing at once. There are a few small and stiff
pitches that may be taken as they come in the first fifty feet of
ascent from the Progress; but we were quite willing to make the
usual divergence to the right from the entrance to the first cave. This
led us up easy grass and rock close to the gully, which soon dwindled
into utter insignificance by reason of its right wall being almost
entirely cut away. Keeping out in the open until the slope suddenly
steepened, we made a traverse into the gully, and walked up the screes
until stopped by a long and awkward-looking grass-crowned chimney. Then
we were hemmed in on both sides, and my friends were invited to define
the nature of the next move. They knew something of the locality;
we had to climb up the right-hand wall on to a level platform some
eighteen feet higher, and then work back into the ghyll by a slightly
upward traverse. The platform was the well-known Tennis Court ledge,
and its vertical wall was one of the chief difficulties of former days.
When in 1893 I had first occasion to climb the wall, there was much
ice about and it was easiest to work some way up the chimney before
stepping out on to the wall. The second attempt, two days later, was
in worse circumstances, and I preferred working directly upwards to
a still higher level before diverging. On that occasion it seemed as
though the simplest plan would have been to avoid the Tennis Court
ledge altogether and keep to the chimney. But Mr. Kempson has since
pointed out that the grass holds at the top are unreliable except when
frost holds the earth together. With Brigg and Greenwood I should
have been loth to leave the Tennis Court unvisited. So we clambered
directly up to it. The holds in the lower part of the wall were slight
but very firm. The surface was rough and reliable. Two-thirds of the
way up we found a little spike of rock that offered an admirable hold,
sufficient to belay the rope safely while rounding the top edge of the
wall and drawing up on to the platform. The others then came up with
ease, and we halted a moment to look at the view.
The ledge is scarcely large enough for tennis, it might be eight feet
long and two or three feet wide; the name is just the overflow of the
pretty wit of some early explorer. Above us rose threateningly the
vertical rampart that separates Moss Ghyll and Steep Ghyll. We could
see the jammed boulders a little higher up in our ghyll. They appear
small from Hollow Stones, but from our ledge each looked almost as
large as a church. Wastdale Church we had in mind. The opposite wall of
the ghyll looked hopelessly inaccessible, and we were little surprised
that so many before us had been content to look and return. The
traverse into the ghyll again was not so easy. If the leader slipped it
would require clever management of the rope on the part of the others
to avoid an unwilling follow on, though I believe a party was once
tested here in that manner--and survived the test.
It was necessary to pass round a small buttress on to the scree bed
of the gully. The first two steps were upwards, with just a steadying
hold above for the hands. It was not desirable to keep too high,
an unnecessary lengthening of the _mauvais pas_ that some climbers
recommend. The footholds are not perfect; they are large, but slope the
wrong way. When dry, the friction is ample to prevent slipping. Where
the rocks are glazed, as I have good occasion to remember, the passage
is distinctly dangerous, especially the return from the gully to the
Tennis Court ledge.
Thence, when all had rounded the corner safely, we walked up scree into
the large cavern formed by the two jammed boulders. The one would of
itself have formed a bridge across the gully, with a recess between it
and the steep bed of the gully; the other, which is much larger, has
fallen on to the first and roofed over the recess. When well within the
cave we could see the ‘window’ high up between the two boulders, the
one weak point by which the pitch could be attacked. I clambered up
the interior of the cave and on to the window-sill. One of the others
followed me, the third staying below to anchor the rope more firmly.
From the window we could see the smooth steep wall on our right by
which we were to traverse outwards. A couple of feet below our level
we could observe that the rock formed a sharp horizontal edge six feet
long, below which it overhung considerably. Just along this edge we
were preparing to walk, using two steps that were sufficiently large
for our needs. The first was the step cut by Dr. Collie. The second
was at the further end of the short promenade, and was just capable
of holding the toes of both boots. Starting with the right foot on the
first step, the further end of the second step was taken in a long
stride with the left. The right was then brought up to it, and the left
reached round the corner at the end on to a respectable and satisfying
foothold. The trick of balancing was not very difficult, providing of
course that the body was kept as nearly as possible vertical. A tumble
when no snow was about would be painful even with a rope to limit its
freedom, so we moved with deliberation and with a due sense of the
difficulties of the place. After passing the dreaded _pas-de-deux_,
I reached in about ten feet of ascent a satisfactory recess, where a
‘belaying pin’ was to be found. It is an excellent projection of rock,
sometimes overlooked by climbers, behind which the rope can be slipped,
and held with firmness in the event of a fall. It is a little awkward
for the leader to pass directly up into the ghyll again before the
second man moves away from the window. Such a course would require a
long rope. Using the belaying pin we found that a sixty-feet length
of rope was ample for the party of three, and no time was lost in
unroping or re-adjusting. When our second man reached the pin I quitted
the recess to make room for him, and mounted into the gully while he
played up the last man. A few feet of easy scree brought us into the
large open portion of the ravine which marks the only spot where it is
possible to break away to the left from the gully. The final crags in
front rose abruptly up for another 200 feet, and were deeply cut
by the vertical Collier’s Chimney, which starts almost at once from
our level. The skyline trended downwards by the left, so that the open
route to the top was not so long in point of distance as the other.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
COLLIER’S CHIMNEY, MOSS GHYLL
(_Face page 51_)]
It certainly was easier to work up the wall to the left. It rose at
a steep angle, and was columnar in structure, with long, porphyritic
slabs crowned by small levels of tufted grass. The leader would often
be unable to help his followers with the rope, but the successive
ledges could be so chosen that no great distance would exist between
the resting-places. Such open work is often more trying for the nerves
than harder chimney climbing, but it is always admirable practice when
the ledges are reliable.
I had quitted the gully by this variation three years before, and
wanted both on my own account and that of my friends to work out the
alternative route. I started up the right wall, at first steadied by
the left, but soon found myself too far out of the chimney to feel
at all comfortable. Thirty feet up was a jammed stone blocking the
narrow way, apparently very effectually. But we had heard of a possible
wriggle behind the jammed stone, and with a reprehensible lack of
daring I made a traverse to the chimney again, and began working up
it with back and knee in the orthodox manner. The situation was safe
enough, but the effort of lifting oneself inch by inch was supremely
fatiguing, and when I discovered the hole behind the boulder to be
about half my minimum sectional area I began to regret the scheme. But
it was too late to return, and with a dread fear of closing up the
‘through’ route for ever, I straightened out one arm above my head and
thrust it through the hole. Fortunately I had no camera sack to hold
me back, a frequent source of annoyance in a tight place. Here we were
all travelling light, and I had nothing to thrust through the aperture
but a limp body that was at every moment lessening its rigidity. As
soon as both shoulders were well in, the rest followed more easily
by vigorous prisings with the elbows, which are so useful in upward
thrusting. Dragging myself into a standing position on the jammed
boulder, I called on the others to follow. They chose the outside
course, making two little détours out and back on the vertical wall,
probably the exact plan adopted by Dr. Collier in the first ascent. My
position in this little ‘sentry-box’ was secure, and the rope could be
manipulated with all necessary care till the three of us were gathered
close together in the tiny recess. Then we had a somewhat easier
scramble up the next vertical portion of the chimney, to pass some
small jammed stones twenty feet higher. We used the same wall and found
the footholds in it more obviously arranged for our convenience. The
first climber had surely a bad time of it on this wall, seeing that it
was all moss-covered, and required an immense amount of preliminary
clearing before the holds could be discerned. But moss has had no
chance of growing there for the last four years, and we had none to
trouble us. A couple of minutes carried us from the sentry-box to the
top of the next pitch. The slope of the ghyll suddenly became easier,
scree led to a short and easy rock pitch, somewhat spoilt by loose
stones, and then a walk to the top brought us in contact with friends
and the commissariat.
THE PISGAH BUTTRESS.--In the second chapter mention was made
of the small pinnacle of Pisgah that flanked the Professor’s Chimney.
Viewing the crags from Mickledore, it will be seen that this pinnacle
is the culminating point of the ridge between Moss Ghyll and Steep
Ghyll. It is convenient to introduce here a brief account of the first
ascent of this ridge directly from the ‘Tennis Court.’ Messrs. G.
and A. Abraham had repeatedly assured me that their inspection from
neighbouring points of view had been favourable, but it was not until
April 22, 1898, when ascending Scawfell Pinnacle by the Low Man, that
I examined the Pisgah ridge with the object of attacking it. The same
afternoon these two friends awaited my arrival on the ‘Tennis Court.’
I came along the Mickledore towards the Pulpit Rock to enjoy a rest
and the society of a party of friends, but was disappointed of both
by a call from the Ledge. In ten minutes from the Mickledore I joined
them, and while recovering breath, was interested to hear of their
attempts to reach the Ledge by other ways than Moss Ghyll. Then,
disposing the rope properly, we went to the extreme right corner and
started the real business. I had a vertical crack about twelve feet
high to surmount. It led to a small platform similar to the one from
which we began our climb, and presented the usual difficulties--no hand
or foothold. A shoulder was given me, then probably a head, then a
steadying hand for my struggling feet, the left arm being thrust well
into the crack and the right doing as best it could on the wall, until
it could reach the grassy edge of the platform above. Once on this the
prospect was pleasing, and we dubbed the spot a ‘Fives Court.’ Thence
a steep chimney rose directly towards the ridge. I mounted some twenty
feet and debated whether the others might safely come up and help.
There seemed to be a fair chance of entering an overhanging chimney
away up to my left, or of following the direct route to the ridge. The
first course attracted me a yard or two along a narrow ledge, until the
way was barred by an immense poised block. It trembled as I touched
the horrible thing; so did my friends down below, and they besought
me to play the straight game, and aim for the arête instead of aiming
at them. They were perfectly just in their choice, and it is as well
that their advice was followed, for we should have had a terrible time
working the overhanging chimney. Ten or fifteen feet of rather careful
scrambling brought me to the edge of the buttress, at a point where I
could descend a little on the Steep Ghyll side and belay the others
with absolute security while they mounted.
The point we had reached was on a level with the top of the Slingsby’s
Chimney on the Pinnacle. Another party of climbers were operating over
there, and gave us some useful information as to the work we had above
us. Our rock was not altogether firm and reliable, so that the next bit
of vertical ridge in front was discarded in favour of a slight détour
on the left face. Belayed as he was by the others, the leader ran very
little risk, and employing a succession of moderately firm, tufted
ledges, he dragged himself steadily up for another twenty feet before
his companions quitted their belay and joined him. Then we unroped
and walked up the remaining hundred feet with no trouble whatever,
astonished to find that our difficulties had been so few and so rapidly
overcome. In an hour from the ‘Tennis Court’ we were swinging down the
Broad Stand ledges.
COLLIER’S CLIMB.--For many years it was currently supposed
that any attempt to scale the precipice between the North Climb at
Mickledore and Steep Ghyll round by the Pinnacle, ranked the daring
enthusiast as one _quem Deus vult perdere_, and, moreover, that the
gods would not give him the chance to finish his undertaking. But
with the advent of a greater number of experienced climbers, coming
to Wastdale with recollections of the stupendous rocks in the Swiss
Alps or the Austrian Dolomites, a reaction gradually set in. To many
nothing seemed impossible with a party of three and an Alpine rope.
But a line must be drawn somewhere to separate the possible from the
impossible, and some try to draw it by their own experience. These
constitute what is called the ultra-gymnastic school of climbing. Its
members are generally young and irresponsible. With years will come
a desire to depart this life in one piece, after the common joys are
realized that life is able to offer. The quick-burning fever for wild
adventure dies away with the approach of workable theories of life.
Whatever the mental phenomenon may be, I am convinced that the physical
is vestigial--a trace of our former savagery, a suggestion of the
lively past, when the struggle for existence involved more muscle than
mind.
Wherefore let live the ultra-gymnasts, if indeed they can pass through
their March-madness without coming to grief; nor should we attempt to
inoculate them with some harmless sport, for the result is to render
the sport dangerous.
To return to the separating line that suggested this digression. Those
who have sought to define it theoretically have been of the foolish
ones, for it has no absolute position for mankind. Each individual
possesses a line of his own, and at first in looking for it he causes
it to re-arrange itself. What was once impossible for him becomes easy.
But his search is more rapid than its advance, and a time comes when
he realizes that he is perilously near; and in wisdom he vows evermore
to keep at so many feet or centimetres (according to his choice of
units) from its nearest point. The nearer he habituates himself to
approach, the oftener does he discover some obvious retreat of his
line. Those who live far from it find that it can narrow its limits.
Which things are an allegory, for this line is a closed curve and
limits us in all directions, only one of which leads to rock-climbing.
Our walk along the foot of the Scawfell wall by the Rake’s Progress
showed three breaks in the cliff after we left Steep Ghyll. The first
marked Moss Ghyll, the second Keswick Brothers’ Climb, the third
Collier’s Climb. The history of Moss Ghyll and its gradual yielding to
the persistent attacks of active parties has been recorded in the first
section. The news of its ascent came as a surprise to all who knew
the place, so great a surprise that no room was left for wonderment
when Dr. Collier a few months later proved the practicability of his
route. But whereas Moss Ghyll became popular in a week by reason of
the writing-up it immediately received, Collier’s Climb was almost
untouched for three years. The unknown is always the most terrible, and
the brief note in the Wastdale climbing book recording its first ascent
left much to an anxious imagination. Queer tales were told round at the
inn of men who were flung back over the Rake’s Progress after rising
only ten feet. Even Dr. Collier was reported to have said he never
wished to see the place again. Report was inaccurate, but that made no
difference. I candidly admit that there seemed little chance of ever
getting up such an awful wall. It was not till I found myself twenty
feet up the crack that the attack seemed in the least degree hopeful.
It was just after Easter in 1896 (April 22), and my party had been
climbing well on the Screes and in Deep Ghyll. The rocks were in
marvellously good condition, perfectly dry and warm to the touch. G.
and A. were with me, their last day before returning home. I thought
it imprudent to take their votes, and announced that we were going to
look at the first part of Collier’s Climb, and to ascertain where its
difficulty lay. Fortunately they were both sanguine, and placed their
heads and shoulders at my disposal as footholds. We made straight for
the right spot in an hour and a half of easy going from Wastdale. There
could be no possible doubt of the place. A thin crack rose direct
from the Progress, overhanging for the first ten feet, then leaning
back a trifle towards the left. A yard or two to the left of this a
square corner led directly up so as to join the crack just below a thin
chimney, that started some twenty feet above our heads. To get to this
chimney was the difficulty. Either the cleft or the corner should be
taken. Which was the easier?
I first tried the cleft, but it overhung so seriously that I dared not
venture further. Equally futile was the attempt up the corner. Was it
possible that we had mistaken the right take-off? To gain time and
recover our spirits we walked over to the other side of Mickledore
and prospected the climb. There could be no doubt that I had actually
started on the correct way. Thirty feet up we could plainly distinguish
a grassy platform that promised us temporary safety. If we could get
as high as that we had Dr. Collier’s authority that the remainder of
our chimney offered no such difficulties as those we had overcome.
Even if it had, we could as a last resource fix an axe in the chimney
and descend on a doubled rope in the usual Alpine fashion. In this
manner, assuring ourselves that we had the worst immediately before
us, we returned with some little courage to the attack. This time we
decided to take the corner. A. was to stand on a small ledge about
a foot above the Progress, and brace himself firmly enough to hold
my weight. G. acted as a sort of flying buttress for his brother,
and paid out my rope with extreme care. From A.’s shoulders I could
just reach a high handhold with the left. But one grip at that height
was useless, as the body had to be lifted up on to the rib of rock
separating the two clefts. A. then padded his head with a handkerchief
beneath his cap, and begged me to stand on it. However steady a young
man may be, there are times when his friends think him weak in the
head. Such a time was this, and I anxiously asked him if he could hold
it perfectly still while I used it. ‘You may do anything except waltz
on it,’ was the encouraging rejoinder, and I promptly placed my left
foot on his parietal. ‘That’s all right,’ the tough young head called
out, ‘you may stay there all day if you like.’ This was reassuring,
but I had come out to climb and meant to move on. Yet for the life
of me I could not see what to do next. The left foot required a lift
before the high handhold could be employed, and there was nothing for
it to rest against except the square corner of the recess. Two or
three times I tried hard to grip the corner with the toe of my boot,
but ineffectually. Then A., seeing my trouble, reached up a hand and
held my boot on an infinitesimal ledge. It felt firm, and I trusted to
it. With the first movement upwards my right hand felt a charmingly
secure depression in the rib above, and swinging clear from A.’s head
I dragged up on to the buttress and felt that the game was half won
already. The rib was easy to ascend for a foot or two, till indeed it
terminated at the small chimney above. But caution was the instinct
uppermost in my mind, and the climb to the grassy platform above might,
in spite of appearances, prove nasty. Casting around for some means
of anchoring on my own rope, I saw that in the crack to my right a
bunch of small stones were firmly jammed, and that daylight could be
seen behind them down a hole that pointed through to the Progress,
fifteen feet below. Here was a chance that, if we had known of it at
first, might have been used to conserve our strength and nerve from
the start. The others were as yet unroped. Calling to them to let go
the rope, I drew up the free end by my teeth and my ‘unemployed’ hand,
and let it fall straight down the hole to them. If a fall occurred now
in trying the next few feet I could only tumble three or four yards,
and should not pass over my friends’ heads and the Rake’s Progress.
But the chimney into which a few moves brought me was of no high
order of difficulty; the situation was certainly a trying one, for a
downward gaze could only take in the rib of rock immediately below and
the distant screes 200 feet beyond. I flung some loose stones far out
into space, and could only just hear a faint clatter as they touched
the scree. Now was the time to appreciate the joy of climbing, in
perfect health, with perfect weather, and in a difficult place without
danger, and I secretly laughed as I called to the others that the
outlook was terribly bad and that our enterprise must be given up.
But they also laughed, and told me to go higher and change my mind,
for they knew by the tone that my temper was unruffled. A few feet
more and I drew up to the platform. It was about a yard wide and three
yards in length, reminding us strongly of the Tennis Court ledge, a
similar formation half way up Moss Ghyll. Between the ledge and the
wall rising above it a fissure cut down into the mountain. It still
held some old winter snow, and its depths were cold as a refrigerator.
Shouting to the others to rope up at a distance of thirty feet apart,
I sat down on the grass with my legs dangling in the frigid fissure,
bracing myself to stand any jerks that might be given to the rope by
a sudden slip of the second man at the rounding of the rib. G. came
up second, using his brother’s shoulders and head much as I had used
them. When he reached the ledge he helped me to haul his brother. A.
was unable to stand on his own head as we had done, though we reminded
him of Dent’s famous climber’s dream, and he hung on to the rope with
both hands while we pulled. It must have been rather an unpleasant
sensation that of swinging away from the rocks, but he bore it like
a philosopher, and caught cleverly on to the rib and so up to us. I
am afraid our satisfaction was now somewhat premature, but we were
certain of a safe descent whatever the remainder of our climb might
involve. But there was no sign of failure in store. The chimneys above
us looked steep, but they were deeply carved and therefore safe. Also,
they cut obliquely up the vertical wall, and were not likely to involve
any inch-by-inch wrestling against gravity. These surmises all proved
correct, though we were astonished at the ease with which the remaining
difficulties were overcome. It was now two o’clock in the afternoon,
and we had been half an hour getting up the first thirty feet. The
remainder only took us an equal time, though five times the height, and
consisting of genuine rock-climbing all the way, as the following notes
testify.
After a short lunch and a few minutes spent in erecting a diminutive
cairn, we moved on. Dr. Collier had climbed into the upper part of
the next chimney by a traverse of some difficulty from the right. I
started the same course, but A. had descended a little to look up
the direct route, and called out that it was safer, though perhaps
awkward. Therefore we all descended and entered the chimney, which
is practically a continuation of the crack up which our climb had
started. It sloped slightly to the left, and offered just a sufficiency
of holds, without demoralizing us with a superfluity. In fifteen
feet its difficulties were over, and a few yards higher we reached
another grassy ledge, more protected than the former but giving an
equally grand view of the neighbouring precipices. There then followed
a vertical pitch of twelve feet, simple enough with the help of a
shoulder--or without it, for that matter--and an easy step from the top
towards the right led to the beginning of the upward grassy traverse
that so strikingly marks the break in the continuity of direction of
Collier’s Climb. Many people have expressed doubts as to the safety of
this traverse; on the other hand, these many have not all been there
to see. The route is perfectly safe; there are corners on the Rake’s
Progress that are intrinsically as hard, though perhaps the sublime
situation may have its effect on some susceptible organisations.
Possibly in wintry weather the traverse may have its difficulties, but
if ever it were dangerous the first pitch would be impossible.
We found the first part of the final chimney slightly moist. Probably
it is very rarely dry. As the diagram facing page 46 indicates, it
slopes up towards the left and is very deeply cut. The first piece was
practically a walk up a steep incline, using tiny ledges that were
disposed along the slope in the most suitable places. It ended with a
magnificent pull up with the arms over a projecting edge on the left.
Then came the pleasantest part of the whole, the negotiation of
twenty-five feet of smooth, slabby rock by faith in friction and
occasional reference to the overhanging side of the gully. Collier had
rightly made special mention of this part, but to his account I should
like to add that with dry rock and rough garments all will go well.
Even a slip on the part of the leader will not be serious if he is
carefully watched and fielded at the bottom of his slide.
At the finish of this exciting portion we saw the sky-line a few feet
in front of us, and with a spurt we ran up and reached the summit
breathless.
Since that time I have descended by the same route with a different
party. We had just come up Moss Ghyll, and my two friends were well
contented with their day’s work; for Moss Ghyll had been the limit of
their ambition, and they were willing to rest contentedly on their
laurels. To tackle Collier’s Climb had never entered their heads
before--like the death-dealing pebble for poor Goliath--and they shyly
suggested that we had climbed enough for one day. But with the sense
of possession of a trump card up my sleeve--that handy rope-hold at the
bottom pitch--I succeeded in rousing their enthusiasm sufficiently,
and we started downwards. They were perfectly safe men to accompany;
this had been proved in Moss Ghyll, and it was perhaps not so very
wrong to indulge in a harmless exaggeration of the excitement that
the finish had in store for them. But they climbed extremely well in
spite of forebodings, and gratified me immensely by agreeing that for
beauty of surroundings Collier’s Climb has no equal in all the gullies
of the Lake District. The descent was rather easier than the ascent--a
state of things so often experienced in difficult climbing work--and
we reached the lowest grassy platform in half an hour. There we found
the little cairn I had erected a few months before, and were cheered
to see a couple of friends approaching from Mickledore to give us any
aid necessary near the finish. I let down the first man by the rope;
he went well till within ten feet of the Progress, and then, slipping
away from the hold, was left for an uncomfortable moment dangling in
mid-air. Lowered a yard or so his legs were seized by the men below and
he was pulled to their level in safety. There he unroped, and thus also
descended the second man. But he came on the middle of the rope, and
before reaching the spot where he was destined to quit the rocks he was
instructed to slip the lower end of the rope through the safety-hole.
On reaching the Progress he also unroped, and with the united strength
of the party holding me through the jammed stone I also was willing,
when my turn came to let myself hang and be lowered gently down like a
bale of goods into a ship’s hold.
To descend alone, without adventitious aid of this kind, it would be
better to take to the crack.
KESWICK BROTHERS’ CLIMB.--This occupies a position between the
two chief routes already described in this chapter, but chronologically
it comes last, and on that account we find it best to treat of it after
the others. The brothers Abraham and I had independently arrived at
the conclusion that the Scawfell face offered a feasible route between
Collier’s Climb and Moss Ghyll, of which only the lower half required
any elaborate planning. In the summer of 1897, before I had a suitable
opportunity of trying my fortune there, came the news that my two
friends had succeeded with their design, considerable assistance having
been given them by the preliminary scrambling of Mr. J. W. Puttrell at
the lower end of the course.
On Christmas Day, 1897, I was one of a large party exploring the new
route and its environs. An attempt to work directly up the long crack
marked by the top _e_ in Plate II. was thwarted at a height of forty
feet or so above the Rake’s Progress by the smoothness of the rocks,
and by the presence of ice in the crack. It will probably go some day
when conditions are more favourable. I managed to traverse to the edge
of the buttress on my left, but the prospect round the corner was
not a bit more attractive. A descent was therefore effected and the
ordinary route tackled forthwith. It was interesting and remarkably
safe. We started close to the foot of Collier’s Climb, and, working
along a nearly horizontal cleft, arrived without trouble at the corner
of the rectangular recess of which mention was made on page 30.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
THE KESWICK BROTHERS’ CLIMB
(_Face page 66_)]
Thence we had a steep bit of edgework for thirty feet before the leader
could ask his second to advance from the Progress. This part admits
of a little variation, but the main fact to be grasped is that the
long chimney in which Collier’s Climb finishes is retained close on
our right for fully ten yards, until it suddenly narrows, and a grass
platform extends away to the left with ample accommodation for a score
of people. This platform, in fact, is part of the same grassy ledge
that forms the first resting place after the troublesome introduction
to Collier’s Climb; and since that date I have frequently taken friends
up and down the latter course by this variation. The expedition is one
that can be strongly recommended for moderately good parties, both for
its beauty and its sustained interest throughout. That day, however,
our course was ordered differently. We had first to follow the original
line of ascent for fifteen feet up an awkward chimney with its best
hold insecure. Then on reaching an upper grass corner there came an
open movement across the face of rock to our right, working gradually
upwards and aiming for a narrow cleft that partially separated a small
pinnacle from the face. The view of this pinnacle from the middle
of Collier’s Climb is simply exquisite, well worth showing to an
enterprising camera.
From the pinnacle a slight descent gave an inspiring view downwards
of the long smooth corner that I had unsuccessfully attacked a short
time previously. At our level the crack had expanded into a respectable
chimney, that could be easily entered twenty feet higher after a
brief clamber on the buttress. It was disappointing to find then that
something very like a scree gully, with only moderately interesting
scrambling, was to finish our work in the great cleft. Rather than
close the operations so quietly the majority voted for an attempt on
the slightly-indicated branch exit thirty feet to the right; and their
enterprise was rewarded by the conquest of a particularly neat pitch at
the top.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
ATTITUDES ON SCAWFELL PINNACLE
(_Face page 69_)]