_GREAT GABLE. THE ENNERDALE FACE AND THE OBLIQUE CHIMNEY._
Great Gable takes high rank among the hills of Britain for grace of
form and for the beauty of the views it offers to the climber. It is a
square pyramid in shape, and shows nearly its full height (2,949 feet)
from the Wastdale level. It stands at the head of the valley, and when
seen from the shores of the lake appears completely to shut off the
valley from all approach by the north end. Its four main ridges offer
fairly easy walking to the summit. The north-east ridge runs down
towards Green Gable, Brandreth, Grey Knotts, and the Honister pass, a
little _col_ marking the lowest point (2,400 feet) between the peak and
Green Gable. A moderate path leads the pedestrian from Borrowdale up
by way of Aaron Slack towards this little pass, which is known as Wind
Gap, and then bears up towards Great Gable. The pass may be crossed
into Ennerdale and a rough descent taken to the Liza stream.
The north-west ridge leads down towards Kirkfell. The broad depression
between the two mountains is known as Beckhead (2,000 feet). It is
often marshy in the neighbourhood of the diminutive Beckhead Tarn. A
wire fence that adorns the summit-ridge from Kirkfell can be followed
for some distance up Gable. Thence to the summit is somewhat craggy,
but not difficult for pedestrians.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
WASTDALE AND GREAT GABLE
(_Face page 114_)]
The south-west ridge is called the Gavel Neese (Gable Nose), showing
from Wastdale Head as a rounded grassy shoulder leading directly
towards the peak. Up this shoulder we may make the shortest ascent of
Gable from Wastdale, avoiding the easy crags of White Napes that face
us where the upper limit of the grass is passed, by skirting round the
screes on the left. An ancient path with the strange name of Moses’
Sledgate leads up Gavel Neese till the level of Beckhead is nearly
reached, and then bears away on a traverse over the screes round to
the middle of the Ennerdale side of the mountain, there to lose itself
in the wilderness of stones that are bestrewn all over that desolate
region.
The remaining ridge to the south-east is scarcely definite enough to be
worthy the name, though from Wastdale it seems to be at least as well
marked as Gavel Neese. It leads towards the Styhead pass (1,579 feet)
and offers a quick route to the top. Mr. Haskett Smith suggests ‘half
an hour’s rough walking,’ but that pace is too severe for most walkers.
Of the four faces of the pyramid the north and south are precipitous,
the west offers very little scope for the cragsman’s skill, and the
east absolutely none. The north or Ennerdale face is practically a
single, exposed section of some 400 feet of rock, seamed with traverses
and split with numerous gullies and chimneys. The south face is of a
complicated design. Springing up from the 2,000-feet level, the Great
Napes appears in the centre of the south face as a great rock screen
belonging to the main mass of Gable. In reality it is well separated
off by deep hollows cutting behind it to right and left. The highest
point of the Napes is connected with the upper crags of Gable by the
crest separating these two hollows, either of which may be followed
down in safety by benighted wanderers who are past all wish to avoid
screes, and whose one desire is to reach a low level in some inhabited
valley.
Let us more happily suppose for the present that we are upward bound
and desirous of circumventing Great Napes. We can observe from Wastdale
Head the line of lighter scree that comes down either side of the
Napes. That to the left leads through a beautiful natural gateway
between White Napes and Great Napes, and thence trends to the right up
to the summit ridge connecting the latter to the final crags of Gable.
The streak of reddish scree to the east leads up through larger portals
into the very heart of the mountain, penetrating round to the back of
the Napes, and thence up by the left to the same summit ridge. This
hollow is floored with small red scree that glows with a marvellous
richness of colour in the sunlight.
The passage between the foot of the Napes and a rock pinnacle at the
entrance to the hollow is called Hell Gate. Philologists may be led to
connect the name with the colour of the scree, for the primitive mind
of the namer would have naturally associated redness with an infernal
intensity of heat. The White Napes offers a little scrambling, but
the Great Napes precipice gives us the best climbing to be had on the
Gable; and if, after reaching the crest of this wall, we bear slightly
downwards across the upper part of Hell Gate screes, we can finish our
climbing by some excellent rocks that lead to the large Westmorland
cairn close to the highest point of the mountain. These Westmorland
crags, as we presently find it convenient to name them, are irregularly
continued away towards the south-east and the Styhead pass, by Tom
Blue, Raven Crag, and Kern Knotts. The last named are in two tiers, the
lower being close to the Styhead path, and only some 1,200 feet above
Wastdale Head. The upper Kern Knotts offer climbing of great interest
and perhaps exceptional severity, and are rapidly becoming popular
among the climbing fraternity.
THE ENNERDALE FACE.--Looking first to the north side of Gable
it is a matter of regret that no satisfactory inclusive view may be
obtained of the whole width of this mountain wall. Seen from the
slopes of Kirkfell the face recedes in such a way that very little of
its climbing can be prospected. From the ridge between Scarth Gap and
Brandreth we have a front view of the crags, but they are much dwarfed
by distance, and their northern aspect is unsuitable for long range
photography.
From Kirkfell we can readily mark the Oblique Chimney which cuts deeply
into the upper half of the centre of the face, and terminates at a
right-angled notch in the sky-line. Some distance to the right we may
with a good light identify the Great Central Gully that cuts the face
from top to bottom. To the immediate right of this is an easy scree
leading the whole way to the top of the crags. Near the foot of this on
the right there used to be a slab pinnacle some fifteen feet in height
that has since been completely disintegrated by rain and frost. A year
or two ago the freshly exposed rock that bore witness of the recent
departure of the pinnacle could be clearly recognised by contrast with
the older face. This climb is now reported to have been exceedingly
difficult; such will probably be the future reputation of the fast
disappearing Stirrup Crag on Yewbarrow. A little higher up this scree
slope, on a small platform out to the left, the remains of an old
stone-walled enclosure could once be distinguished. It may have been
the haunt of whisky smugglers or the hiding place of some miserable
outlaw. It is to be regretted that the remains are now in too bad a
state of repair to be recognised as artificial. Between the Oblique
Chimney and the Central Gully lies the easy route or natural passage by
which a mountain sheep of ordinary powers ‘might ascend’; though it not
infrequently occurs that the perplexed climber roundly declares that
the mountain sheep of average mental capacity is not so foolish as to
venture into such a bewildering region of small grass traverses, steep
stony slopes, and ledgeless walls.
Immediately to the left of the Oblique Chimney is the climb that leads
past the Bottle-shaped Pinnacle and up the huge retaining buttress
of the chimney. Further towards Wind Gap the sky-line suddenly drops
at the upper level of Stony Gully--an easy, though rough, passage up
broken boulders and loose scree, by which the crags can be outflanked.
The wire fence that leads over Wind Gap to Green Gable and Brandreth
begins here, and is a useful landmark in misty weather. Mr. Haskett
Smith found in 1882 a ‘high level route’ across the face at about
two-thirds of the way up. It is an excellent ramble, and full of
strange surprises, passing along exposed ledges, in between towers of
rock and the great upper wall, offering a peep into the black recess
of the Oblique Chimney, and an easy digression up to the Bottle-shaped
Pinnacle. It finishes close to the foot of Stony Gully, and can be
recommended for a preliminary survey of the more difficult routes up
the Ennerdale face.
OBLIQUE CHIMNEY.--From a few notes added to a sketch of the
known routes up the Ennerdale face, which Mr. John Robinson inserted in
the Wastdale Climbing Book, April, 1890, I derived my first impressions
of the Oblique Chimney: ‘This has, I believe, not yet been climbed and
is not very safe, owing to the jammed stones in it being loose, and
the clean-cut walls on each side making these stones of consequence.’
This description was realistic though brief, but I thought little of
the place till the Christmas vacation of 1892-3, when I learnt that Mr.
R. C. Gilson had proposed to attack the chimney one fine day, but was
forestalled by Dr. Collier’s party. These latter took the precautionary
measure of partly descending the chimney, so as to clear away the
_débris_ and loose stones that hovered over the edge of each pitch;
they then returned to the foot of the chimney and forced a way directly
up to the top. The important jammed stones required for the middle
portion were quite firm enough for safe holding, and the party returned
with a fuller praise of the beauties of the chimney than any one had
anticipated. I was given an account of the expedition a day or two
later, and was glad enough to get the opportunity of trying conclusions
with the crags on that side of Gable, which till then was unexplored
country for me.
My companion that Christmas was a learned classic, weary of brain work,
whom I had induced to take a little climbing in Cumberland as a tonic.
Some people cannot take quinine, others apparently cannot benefit by
rock-climbing. This latter I found to be the case with my friend, whose
struggle with the _confracti rudera mundi_ made him despondent instead
of inducing a healthy exhilaration. The sore limbs and torn clothing he
never seemed able to forget, far less to enjoy. Yet the ruling passion
of phrase-making was strong even _in extremis_, and he longed to put
his sufferings into words. Sometimes on the rocks I might casually turn
to see that he was coming up well. His eyes would be gazing at nothing
and his lips moving as if in prayer. But it was not prayer, it was a
Greek or Latin quotation, preferably the former because of its rich
vocabulary for description of scenery. On the whole he was enjoying
the new experiences hugely in his own melancholy way, and I felt no
compunction in insisting on his joining K. and A. when we planned our
excursion up Gable by way of the Oblique Chimney. The day was rather
cloudy and snow threatened, but we took plenty of provisions, and K.
carried a pocket compass. We started somewhat late in the morning,
and walked leisurely up Gavel Neese and round the Beckhead by way of
Moses’ Sledgate. But on reaching the wire fence we found that the
mist completely enveloped the Gable crags and gave us no chance of
identifying our climb from below. Then we skirted along the base in the
vain hope of a momentary disclosure of the chimney by a parting of the
mist, but no such chance offered, and we reached Stony Gully without
making a start up. Here we saw the ‘rake’ or traverse that has been
described as passing along the face about two-thirds of the way up.
It was an obvious course to take, inasmuch as it led to within a few
feet of the foot of the Oblique Chimney--so near that even the dense
mist could scarcely prevent our striking it. Here the classic assured
us that he would much prefer ascending by Stony Gully to the top of
Gable, and that it would give him extreme pleasure to carry our lunch
up to the cairn and wait for us there. We let him go, and promised that
we should join him again by three o’clock in the afternoon. Thus did
we lose our lunch, not to find it again for another week. There was
much ice and fresh snow plastering the rocks, and the so-called ‘easy’
traverse wanted all our care. K. was an expert Alpine climber, his
friend A. a plucky young Harrovian with plenty of nerve and endurance
in him, but at that time with next to nothing in the way of experience
of the mountains. He came along well enough, but our pace was
necessarily very slow. Three o’clock found us still working westwards
on the traverse, but without a sight of the Oblique Chimney. I think
in one place we must have descended too much. At any rate, we found
ourselves in difficulties on a sloping slab of glazed rock that gave me
serious pause. A. slipped on this, and started slithering away rapidly.
Luckily he held his axe tightly, and was brought up by the rope with a
jerk. Shortly after this, he pointed to some blood on the rocks, and
solicitously asked me whether I had cut myself very badly. It turned
out, after a hasty glance at my hands, that he himself was the wounded
one. My little complaint was a slight frostbite in the finger-tips, my
gloves having been worn threadbare by much scraping with the hands.
At last we reached a pinnacle that promised us variety. We tried to
climb up it by the outside edge, but found the ice too troublesome.
Then, when resting on the shoulder half way up, we saw a deep and
narrow cavern in the mountain wall behind the pinnacle. Surely that
must be the object of our quest and our pinnacle the redoubtable
‘bottle-shaped.’ Eagerly we scrambled over the shoulder and down a
slight gully on to the scree that issues from the mouth of the cavern.
It was getting dark, and we were very hungry. My jacket pocket still
held the crumbs of a pulverized biscuit that I had taken up Snowdon
the week before. These and a fragment of chocolate we scrupulously
shared, and then began the attack in earnest. The conditions had much
changed since Dr. Collier had effected his ascent, and though the
gully overhangs too much to permit any drift snow to settle in it, the
smooth walls of the gully were black and shiny with ice, and the damp
cold of this dark hole tried our endurance to the utmost. It must be
admitted that my ascent of the first part was slow and ungraceful. I
had started with my back resting against the left wall, bracing my feet
as firmly as the ice would permit against the diminutive knobs on the
opposite side. Now in this position the back cannot be worked up an
overhanging wall unless the hands have something definite to thrust
against. The process went on fairly well for about twenty-five feet,
working outwards as well as upwards, but then the two sides of the
chimney became perilously far apart and the smooth left wall commenced
to overhang.
Then ensued a few moments of awkward suspense, an uncertainty as to
the best method of transferring one’s weight to certain small ledges
against which the feet were now pressing.
The process of ‘backing up’ is excessively fatiguing, the thrust
necessary to hold oneself firmly _in situ_ being as a rule much greater
than the equivalent of one’s weight, and the whole of this thrust being
at every slight lift transmitted through the arms. He who fails to
realize the attitude I am describing may easily perform an experiment
that illustrates the mechanical principles involved, by sitting down
across a doorway or narrow passage, and attempting to work upwards by
pressure of the feet against one side and back against the other. If,
when some three feet from the ground, he waits a minute or two and
then attempts to move again, either up or down, he will perceive that
the simple holding in place has tired his muscles and made advance or
retreat equally difficult.
Our doorway had already extended up for twenty-five feet and yet
another five remained before a comfortable halting-place could be
reached. The cleft forming the chimney was so much undercut that the
view vertically downwards included the scree some distance below the
entrance to the cavern, and anything that I might have let fall, myself
for instance, would have dropped some feet further out than the two
men waiting below. The halt was a mistake; there was only one course
open, and that should have been taken at first. It was to work inwards
until the doubtful jammed stones could be reached with the left hand,
and then, trusting mainly to the footholds, hoist the body over to
that side of the gully and thrust the hand into the recesses between
the stones. K. shouted up some suggestion to this effect from below.
How he managed to discern the proper place through the dim twilight
I never was able to ascertain. But I resolved to try it, and in some
strange way the cramped muscles that had appeared incapable of further
effort were in a second or two relieved by the change of attitude, and
the pull over to the right side that I had dreaded as the severest tax
on my strength proved to be easy enough. With fists in two convenient
little holes clenched to prevent the hands slipping out, I was able
to take a momentary survey of the slightly rickety ladder of jammed
stones that led to safety. The passage of these few feet was not at
all pleasant. Had ours been the first climb of the chimney we might
have reasonably decided to brave the perils of descent and return again
by daylight, rather than fumble about in the dusk pawing at wabbly
boulders that threatened to fall out with us at even a caress, much
more promptly at a cross word.
But the knowledge that others had tried them, and had learnt the
futility of these threats, gave me some degree of courage, and, taking
heart of grace, I, walked up the ladder and out of the first great
difficulty. A. came up next, and as the hour was late and we were all a
little anxious to finish, he did not scorn to use the rope at the bad
corner just below the ladder. K. came up remarkably well, and I felt
that if he had led us we should have mastered the pitch earlier.
We were now able to walk towards the roof of the upper portion of the
gully, which was as completely closed in as the cave below. The left
wall everywhere overhung so much that there was no chance of climbing
out by its aid. The right wall was nearly parallel to the left and
showed a few more possibilities.
Looking backwards we could see the two walls projecting several yards
out, apparently a little nearer together at their extreme edges than
they were in our upper chamber, which was now much too wide for any
opportunity of backing up. But we knew that the second pitch was not
so bad as the first, and started prospecting. I crept up as high into
the cave as possible, and then felt round the edge of the roof for a
firm hold. This came to hand almost at once, and with a step out on to
the sloping wall, and probably a steadying hand from below, I worked up
between the roof-stone and the right side. This led to a steep little
snow-slope, evidently covering loose stones that might prove excitable
in dry weather, and thence a few yards of broken rock extended to the
summit of the crags.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
THE ENNERDALE FACE OF GREAT GABLE]
In five minutes we had assembled there, and decided that we were still
distressingly hungry. I felt in my pocket for more crumbs, but only
brought out stones. We hurried up to the cairn at the highest point
of the mountain. It looked a picture of Alpine solitude. Not a trace
of the classic, no hope of our lunch. Fresh snow had fallen during
the last hour or two, and had obliterated all signs of his visit.
Nay, worse, we had not that implicit confidence in his knowledge of
the district to feel certain that he had found his way safely down to
Wastdale, for he had never been on the mountain before; nor was he
quite so familiar with the mountain mists as we proud climbers of the
Oblique Chimney. But he had the laugh of us that night! We expressed
sorrow for the poor man, and then with a sigh turned to consider our
own position. It was a trifle unpleasant to be on the summit of Great
Gable after six p.m. on a snowy winter’s night, with something of a
wind blowing through us and very little to obstruct its free passage.
But for all that we were happy enough, and arranged elaborately to
steer by compass direct for White Napes and Gavel Neese. South-west by
west was our direction. K. was positive of that fact, and offered to
lead. Some twenty yards behind him came young A., still going well;
then I followed at an equal distance behind him, just able by the
reflected light from the snow to distinguish the leader and keep him in
the straight line he was marking out for us.
By the light of a match that we kept flaming for a sufficient time
in an improvised tent of coats, he examined the pocket compass he
carried, and was confident that ten minutes’ good going would carry us
down to the grassy shoulder below the White Napes. On we went steadily
downwards, and I wondered whether, if we took to running when the
boulders were passed, we might get down in time to start dinner at the
usual hour. Happy thoughts in this connection kept me from attending
particularly to our route and its details, but when we got to a thicker
mist I looked about for a landmark. Nothing could be recognised. The
ground sloped rapidly down on the right; the left seemed to rise most
oddly to a sort of ridge. But the strange thing was that there seemed
to be another mountain fronting us. K. was at a complete loss, and took
out his compass again. We erected the tent once more, and all crowded
over the instrument to determine our fate. Alas, we had been travelling
towards the north! K. had mistaken the two poles of the magnet. The
mountain mass looming ahead was the Green Gable, and we were within a
few feet of the Wind Gap. Our dinner was at least two hours further
away than ever, and we were still hungry. There was nothing to be
done but walk round the mountain by way of the Styhead tarn and pass.
We had no lantern, and it would have been a legbreaking business to
attempt to skirt the Ennerdale face and strike off the Moses’ Sledgate
in the dark. The snow was soft all the way down Aaron Slack. I have
often come down in daylight since and wondered what we could have
found to tumble over that night; we were always slipping through snow
pitfalls into water, or tripping over boulders and on to our heads
in snowdrifts. Now and again we would find ourselves sitting side by
side in the stream, the leader’s tumbling having been too sudden to
permit of any warning to the others. Such occasions we generally seized
on as suitable opportunities for halting, only to be ended by sleepy
realization that the water was both damp and cold. And all the time the
inexperienced classic was enjoying his dinner and his phrase-making in
princely luxury and comfort at the inn.
At last we reached the shores of the frozen tarn and turned wearily
up to the right. The path was in a shocking state, and on arriving at
the cairn at the top of the pass we found a continuous glaze of ice
along our route. So, at any rate, it seemed to be that night--my first
experience of crossing the Styhead in the dark. It was nothing less
than actual hand-and-foot work in many an awkward corner. Subsequent
opportunities of climbing down the path in the dark have often been
given me, but that first night was the worst. How we managed to avoid
broken limbs has ever been a mystery. We would suddenly slip over on
the ice, and slide furiously down the path and into some obstruction
below. We had tried to smoke, but pipes were too dangerous to hold
between the teeth during these unpremeditated rushes. But time ends
all things. By ten o’clock we were anointed with Vaseline and massaged
with Elliman, with the prospect of substantial fare to follow. The
classic slippered into the dining-room to report himself. He had waited
on Gable cairn till half-past three, and then had returned by the way
he had come. Our lunch he had left under a stone, and as a guide to
our finding it had stamped the snow down and drawn with his finger
several arrows or asterisks or other marks of reference in the snow.
It was very clever, but the fresh fall thwarted his ingenuity only too
effectually.
The Oblique Chimney rapidly became popular, and has since been visited
by many climbers. But it can never be regarded as an easy ascent.
Some time during the summer following I looked down it to see how
a descent might be managed. The loose stones at the top were most
uncomfortably unstable, and the clamber down towards the entrance of
the upper cave required great care, without being exactly perilous. A
friend was with me who counselled waiting till we should find ourselves
up there again with a rope, and ultimately his advice prevailed. Some
eighteen months later, in January, 1895, a large party of Wastdale
Christmas revellers made for the Oblique Chimney top. The crags were
approached from the scree below, a few feet to the north of the
entrance to the Central Gully. We took to a little chimney at once,
and then up a grassy slope to another chimney that brought us to steep
grass and scree with frequent outcrops of rock.
Thence we made up towards the entrance to the Oblique Chimney then
visible, and before reaching it clambered up an incipient gully on the
left wall that bounds the scree just there. It led over the sharp crest
of the buttress that supports the bottle-shaped pinnacle, and thence we
had a steep but fairly easy descent of ten or twelve feet to a ledge
that led round to the other side. The rocks were dry and very free from
snow, so that each member of our party found himself able to pull up
easily from ledge to ledge in the little gully till the notch between
the pinnacle and the main wall was reached.
Thence the leader turned up to the left, and recommenced a similar
series of ledge-climbing operations, of which only the first from the
notch could be called in any sense difficult. We had a magnificent view
down the face, which is particularly steep just here, and the frequent
halts rendered necessary by the size of our party afforded plenty of
time to admire the huge slabs that separated the ‘sheep walk’ from
us. A small stone-man marked our point of arrival at the summit of
the crags, and after adding a block or two as our contribution to the
cairn we turned right, and in a few yards had reached the rectangular
entrance to the Oblique Chimney.
The main difficulty in the descent was to prevent stones sliding on to
the heads of men lower down, who were in the direct line of fire and
rarely able to raise a protecting arm for themselves. The upper ones
were continually cautioned by those in peril to keep an eye to the
rope, and prevent its dragging over the bed of the gully. All passed
down safely, but I remember making a mistake when descending the great
overhanging pitch at the bottom, in assuming that it was an easy matter
to climb down with a camera sack on my back. I had descended part of
the ‘ladder,’ but then found the need of a back pressure, and hesitated
about crushing in the contents of my sack. The rope is of no use to
the last man in a place of that kind, and I therefore was permitted to
untie the knot round my waist and fix on the sack instead, letting it
down gently to the others by the left hand. The right was needed to
hold on firmly to the ladder, so that the teeth were in requisition for
the tying. The descent offers another instance of the ease with which a
chimney that is exceptionally severe in the ascent may be traversed in
the reverse direction. Where gravity helps the motion we have only to
consider the best means of opposing it. During an ascent much strength
is spent in the mere lift, to say nothing of the extra force needed to
prevent slipping.
At the foot we joined up again and traversed round to the ‘sheep
walk.’ This was easy to discover but hard to describe. The route bore
obliquely upwards towards the right, always well out in the open,
giving us pleasant hand-and-foot work the whole way. We reached the
top in safety, and then proceeded homewards by way of White Napes.
Mr. Haskett Smith says that the top of the easy passage bears 23° east
of north when viewed by prismatic compass from the highest point of
Great Gable. It probably means magnetic north, and the fact is of value
to benighted climbers who know which end of the compass is the north
pole.
On April 3, 1896, a new variation route was found into the upper cave
of the Oblique Chimney by Messrs. C. and A. Hopkinson and H. Campbell,
who worked up a slightly marked gully in the great wall to the left
of the sheep walk, and then, after an ascent of fifty feet, traversed
round by the left into the chimney.