_THE RIDGES OF THE GREAT NAPES_
THE NEEDLE RIDGE is usually taken from the foot of the Needle
itself. It was explored first in 1884 by Mr. Haskett Smith, who then
made a general survey without actually completing the climb. Two
years later he effected a descent of the whole route; and in 1887 Mr.
Slingsby’s party made the first strict ascent, and were emphatic in
their praise of its fine character.
The introductory few feet from the notch behind the Needle are
difficult, the problem being to climb up a steep slab of six feet or so
to the foot of a slight grass chimney that slopes upwards to the right.
Three fingers of the right hand can be inserted in a curious pocket in
the slab; rather poor foothold is all that can be found for steadying
purposes, and for the rest just enough will manifest itself to enable
the climber to cautiously drag himself up to a small ledge, and thence
to the foot of the chimney.
This takes him easily to about the level of the top of the Needle.
There a poised block is passed on the left, that used to give trouble.
I once saw my leader attempt to climb directly over it. When in the
very act of pulling himself on to its upper surface it slowly swung
round, as if pivoted at each extremity. Fortunately he was not tempted
to let go, and it readjusted itself in a firmer position without
quitting its niche. My friend led no more that day, and we afterwards
solemnly warned folks against the boulder variation. The stone is yet
there and is still insecure, but climbers pass round by the right and
then work back on to the edge of the _arête_ and up to the foot of
the vertical wall that begins the second part of the climb. It is not
unusual for the first part to take so long a time in severe weather as
to convince a prudent party that it is expedient to utilize a grass
traverse into the Needle Gully that here discloses itself on the left.
This ledge takes them safely to a point in the bed of the gully above
the chief pitch, and within a few minutes’ easy scrambling of the top.
The first part of the Needle Ridge may be neatly varied by climbing the
buttress up from the gully, or by working across to the same buttress
from the Needle notch. These variations are a little harder than the
usual climb, but both are safe in dry weather.
As illustrating the way not to use a rope, an amusing story is told
of the first difficulty on the Needle ridge. Two young fellows had
walked up to the foot of the gully with another party of climbers, and
had lazily discussed their lunch and their plans for the day while
the others were busy on the Needle. After deciding that they knew the
Needle too well to learn anything by climbing it, they went on to
examine critically, from a distance, the Eagle’s Nest opposite and to
point out the way that they would insure their own safety in an attack
on it. They scoffed at its reputed severity, and would really have then
and there shown the neatest method of vanquishing it. On the other
hand, it was a warm day, and they felt a little slack. Perhaps the
Needle Ridge would tickle their jaded appetites a bit. Yes! they would
walk up the ridge and get some fresh air 400 feet higher. Then they
tossed up for leadership, and tied on their forty feet rope--one man at
each end. Away went the leader from the notch, over the slab and up the
chimney. When at the end of his rope it occurred to him to look back
and see what his companion was doing. The poor fellow had stuck at the
slab, and was in imminent danger of falling backwards. ‘Good gracious,
man, what are you thinking of?’ shouted the indignant leader. ‘I am
not going to be pulled down for any one!’ and promptly began to unrope
himself. Then the man who tells the story hurried up from below, and
fortunately arrived in time to prevent a catastrophe. Such an aspect
of the utility of the rope need scarcely be commented upon, but I was
not surprised a day or two after hearing the story to be characterized
by a non-climbing acquaintance in town as a desperate venturesome
individual, one who went about climbing mountains _with a rope_. By
non-climbers a rope must indeed be regarded as a source of danger.
The plainest view of the upper platform of the Needle and the awkward
corner that rises from it is to be had at the expense of a few minutes’
digression from the ridge. It is best to climb from the top of the
grass chimney over to the right, and then down a steep and loose recess
to a grass platform. A photograph of the Needle from this point of view
has been published, and is an interesting one to study.
The second part of the Needle Ridge begins with a vertical wall of
rock that from below appears very formidable. With ice about it is
certainly difficult, and the traverse to the gully on the left is the
wisest course to pursue under such conditions. But on close inspection
a square corner discloses itself in the wall, and the fifteen feet of
scrambling in the cleft are perfectly straightforward. At the top of
the wall the ridge is broken up in a wonderful way, and huge blocks are
distributed along the route in great profusion. The climbing becomes
very easy, though retaining its interest to the finish at the top of
the Napes; and the whole ascent may be disposed of summarily in half an
hour from the Needle notch.
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
THE UPPER PART OF THE NEEDLE RIDGE
(_Face page 156_)]
THE EAGLE’S NEST RIDGE was climbed on April 15, 1892, by a
strong party of cragsmen. They were led by Mr. G. A. Solly, who was
well backed up by Mr. Cecil Slingsby. They left a record of the
expedition in the Wastdale book, and let the climbing fraternity
decide for themselves as to whether the ascent was worth repeating.
No exception can be taken to the rocks, which are perfectly sound
and reliable, but an inspection of the ridge from the Needle shows how
little hold there is for hands or feet. Moreover, the hardest part
is so situated that a safe descent from it is well-nigh impossible
for the unlucky leader who finds his strength or skill inadequate to
cope with it. Nevertheless, I have recently discovered that with an
exact knowledge of the available holds, and with the best conditions
of the rocks, a man may safely tackle the ascent if well supported
by a sturdy second. The situation is terribly exposed for the first
140 feet, and will try the nerves of even experienced mountaineers.
Dependence is often placed on small footholds that slope slightly to
the climber’s disadvantage; and on such ledges good nailed boots and
perfect confidence are essential. The fact is that the ridge is not
to be recommended; and its virtue is that there is no deception about
it. The clean sweep of the sharp nose of rock from the green platform
at the foot up to the patch of grass where the slanting chimney begins
scares everybody away, tyros and experts alike. That almost vertical
buttress looks impossible, and to nearly everybody it is so.
It was a felicitous discovery of Mr. Solly’s, a day later, that the
worst part of the _arête_ could be avoided by taking to a chimney a few
feet away to the left. Looking up at the ridge from the grass platform
at its foot, the appearance presented is that of a vertical face of
rock out by two chimneys each about a hundred feet long. The right of
these is shallow and open, with tufts of grass interspersed with smooth
slabs. Whether it can be climbed or not I have never ascertained. But
the left chimney or gully is deeply cut into the wall. Its aspect is
ferocious, but its disposition gentle. It can be easily reached and
comfortably climbed. Solly’s original route was up the strict _arête_
to the right of both chimneys. The _arête_ to the left of both was
investigated at Easter, 1895, and manifested an inclination to yield to
the attack of a party. But the party has not yet preferred the attack,
and the suggestion may be taken at its worth. Our gully is rather
earthy for the first forty feet, and care must be taken by the leader
to avoid dislodging stones on those below him. Then the rockholds
change in character just above an outstanding pinnacle on the left, and
there is an interesting passage into a niche at the back of the gully,
a sloping and well-worn hold for the right foot offering the safest
support as the body is dragged over into the corner. Hence the route is
up the crack for a few feet and across a long slab to the right-hand
wall, care being taken with a loose splinter that is generally seized
as the handiest grip available. The rest of the gully is of grass
and small scree, and at the top a view may be obtained down into the
Arrowhead Gully. But for the ridge climb a divergence is made to the
right almost immediately after the chimney pitch is passed.
A split is noticed in the _arête_, forming a small and sharp pinnacle,
just below which the shallow, grass-tufted chimney finishes in sorry
fashion. The climber passes through the cleft, utilizing a large block
that is not quite fixed. On the other side he finds the junction with
the original ridge route, ten feet below the finish of the curdling
part. His next move is awkward, over a smooth rock with unsatisfactory
sloping footholds, but there is no real danger with the second man at
the cleft, and the leader reaches the grassy recess where, in the words
of the first explorers, the difficulties moderated. It is large enough
for two men to brace themselves firmly, and manipulate 150 feet of rope
for an enterprising third man who may wish to come up by way of the
outside edge.
This route to the recess we shall now briefly describe, suggesting at
the same time that no man should attempt to lead up it who has not
already explored the ground with the safeguard of a rope from above.
From the horizontal grass platform at the foot of the climb a narrow
cleft runs up to the ridge in such a way as to separate off the first
fifteen feet from the main mass. The cleft is mounted with facility
by aid of numerous holds of first-rate quality. At the top we find
ourselves on the strict ridge, but after mounting ten feet the holds
disappear entirely, and the verticalness of the next seven or eight
feet makes a slight divergence absolutely necessary. On the face of the
ridge that bounds the Needle Gully below us two parallel cracks run
up steeply about a yard apart. They are so closed, and they run so
obliquely up the wall, that good foothold is impossible in either, and
handhold of even moderate quality requires much seeking. Nevertheless,
they are both of immense importance, and are capable of giving all
the required aid. The leader should here be joined by the second, and
should belay himself to the highest effective part of the broken rock
below him. His companion should be belayed independently. Then his next
move is to work up for three feet on to the right-hand crack, with his
fingers gripping the other, until the latter is felt to be good enough
for a pull towards the ridge. The transfer of the right foot into the
crack on the left is critical. I prefer to effect the passage without
boots, as the toes can feel so much better where the crack is deepest.
Then the outside edge a yard away to the left is within reach of the
hand, and the leader, cut off from further assistance below, must
manage very carefully to climb on to the ridge.
His holds are obvious; the difficulty is not so much in finding the
way as in keeping to it. Fortunately a little flat platform is now
reached, on which he can sit in comfort and recover his strength
before attacking the next part. It is at about the level of the top of
the Gable Needle, and Mr. Slingsby tells me it is the spot that the
first climbers named the Eagle’s Nest. It is just visible against the
sky in the view facing page 153, 3-1/2 inches from the foot of the
illustration. The awkward part first ascended is scarcely twelve
feet high, but is exceptionally severe if the leader takes it without
the assistance of a second.
[Illustration:
PLATE V.
THE ARROWHEAD RIDGE. THE EAGLE’S NEST RIDGE. THE NEEDLE RIDGE.
From the South-east. From the South-east. From the North-west.
_a_ Eagle’s Nest.
_b_ Easy Chimney Route.
_c_ Finish along the Ridge.
_dd_ Severest Portion.
_e_ Ling Chimney.
THE GREAT NAPES RIDGES.]
The consequences of a slip in the next portion of the climb are more
serious, but probably it is technically less difficult than the lower
bit. The Eagle’s Nest is barely large enough for the leader to brace
himself firmly when helping the second man up on the rope, and he may
naturally prefer to mount higher without assistance rather than peril
the safety of both for the sake of a helping shoulder up the next
piece. There are no belaying pins, and traversing to either side of the
buttress is seemingly impossible. If he cannot be certain of holding on
to the rope when a slip occurs to his follower, he had better decide to
advance another fifty feet before the second man moves from his secure
position below. The first ten feet above the Nest are remarkable for
steepness and smallness of holds. If the rocks are cold and the finger
tips benumbed, the holds cannot be appreciated at all, and the place
becomes horribly dangerous. Yet there is a sufficiency of grip for
hands and feet, and bootmarks can now be detected on the chief ledges.
With perfect coolness and the exercise of his best judgment, the
solitary leader will gradually mount the ridge step by step, and the
tension on his nerves and muscles will be relieved when the level of
the narrow pinnacle to the left is reached, and he notices the numerous
scratches on the rocks of those who have climbed to the junction by
the easy route. Mr. H. C. Bowen and I made the second strict ascent in
April, 1898, with 100 feet of rope between us.
At the foot of the slanting chimney it again becomes possible for
the leader to obtain assistance from his companions, though he is
not the sort of man to require it if he has come up by the difficult
way. The climbing is now delightfully safe and interesting. The holds
are good and the ridge varied. From the top of the slanting chimney,
which can be ascended without trouble, the true _arête_ below looks
desperately stiff. The remainder of the climb will be found to consist
of alternating horizontal and vertical passages. It is often possible
to pass down the grassy ledges on the left, but the ridge is much
pleasanter, and in wet weather actually safer. The views down the
vertical walls on the right into the Needle Gully are magnificent, and
the Needle Ridge is seen at its best.
The first party took two hours and ten minutes to accomplish their
ascent. The ridge with the initial variation by the chimney has been
climbed in half an hour by a party of three; hunger lent wings, for
their lunch was waiting them on Gable.
THE ARROWHEAD RIDGE derives its name from a very prominent crag
a short distance to the west of the Eagle’s Nest Ridge. It offers a
very fine specimen of rock architecture, though the artist photographer
has been known to express dissatisfaction at its outline, and to claim
artistic license in modifying his pictures to suit his theories. Many
of those who have been attracted to the Great Napes in search of the
original have been much perplexed at the discrepancy between the old
photographs and the modern reality. Some in their wrath have desired
to get the photographer and his camera below them in a rickety gully,
where, as Dent puts it, no stone is left unturned in their struggle to
reach the top.
But if the artist cuts away a few thousand tons of rock from his
negative with one fell stroke of his brush, if he commands the sun
to stand still and the shadows to move on, if he subjects his angles
to the influence of the personal equation of the climber instead of
the mere observer, these weaknesses are not to be recorded against
him. Mountaineering as a sport owes its advancement far more to
the inaccurate descriptions of its literary devotees than to the
simple statements of facts of the scientific, and its best pictorial
advertisements have been those where art has assisted nature and
laughed at science.
This to some extent is what we all need, and what we all understand.
From the top of the Kern Knotts’ crack the evidence of a freely
hanging rope as to the direction of the vertical actually contradicts
one’s best judgment. The Kern Knotts wall is perhaps 15° from the
vertical, but looking down it one would judge it perpendicular. Yet
we never fancy a foothold horizontal when it is at a slope of 15° to
our disadvantage, else the Eagle’s Nest Ridge would lose much of its
terror. Rather are we then inclined to magnify the angle, and the
actual slope plus our own inclination make together something like the
30° that would figure in a fancy sketch or a popular article.
Education is a marvellously fine thing, and in mountaineering it works
wonders. It enables men to interpret the barren truth in accordance
with their own experience. Notes of new ascents in the ‘Alpine Journal’
they can enjoy and assimilate; but, as in eating caviare, the taste
needs cultivation, and many remain unequal to such food to the ends of
their lives. Now because there are many false translations possible of
the one true original, it must be easy with a knowledge of the truth
to interpret it variously, and correspondingly difficult to get at
the correct version from a bad translation. Even the mountaineering
education fails to help us. All it does is to give us the taste for
truth, and the sense of right to demand the genuine article. It might
be printed in italics at the beginning of the chapter, like the usually
inappropriate and obscure poetical references, and so isolated from
the author’s personal exposition. This text and sermon notion has
not, so far as my little library of Alpine books can tell me, been
adopted by any popular writer on mountaineering, though the difficulty
has been grappled with in other ways. Thus the Alpine historian or
geographer may find the required facts neatly gathered together in a
brief appendix, or still more briefly summarised in a letter published
simultaneously with a review of the book in the ‘Alpine Journal.’
The sale of caviare is strictly limited, and the demand for ‘Alpine
Notes and New Ascents’ confined to the few. Hence mountaineering
books intended to sell well are written for the uneducated many, not
for teaching purposes, but for the satisfaction of their desire for
tales of adventure. So long as climbers tolerate this professionalism
introduced into mountaineering--and there is every reason why they
should in all cases where the professional is recognized as such--they
must necessarily give the artist a free hand, whether he writes or
paints or takes photographs. Personally I should ask for information
as to the treatment of any negative that has been employed for
reproduction of pictures. ‘From a photograph by,’ nowadays suggests a
bad camera, a shaky tripod, an amateur operator, a cunning artist, and
a long purse. But ‘truth is mighty and will prevail,’ so we may as well
get on to the Arrowhead.
Viewing this Arrowhead from the easy ground near the Bear rock, it is
seen to bear some resemblance to the Gable Needle (see Chapter XI.). In
each case the rock forms the lower extremity of a Napes ridge, and its
sides are remarkable for their steepness and smoothness. The outside
edge of each is broken by a well-marked shoulder, and the head of the
Arrow may be fairly well likened to the top overhanging boulder on the
Needle. Here, perhaps, the resemblance ends. Certain parts of the
climbing on the Arrowhead must be characterized as insecure, whereas
the Needle is firm throughout. The former may easily be attacked from
the notch behind it, the Needle cannot be similarly treated. The
original climb up to the shoulder on the Arrowhead was by a recess on
the east side, that up the Needle by a narrow crack on the west. (See
photograph facing page 153.)
The first ascent dates from April, 1892, when a large party attacked
the rock on the lines just indicated. The lower part of the buttress
was mounted by a steep and open recess on the western side, a good
climb leading directly to the shoulder half-way up, where the route
was joined by the upper end of a corresponding chimney on the other
side of the buttress. Thence the climbing was straight up the corner.
It was not very difficult, but at a point a few feet below the final
bit the rocks were insecure and the situation alarming. The stones
are better now than formerly, but great caution must be used. In 1893
another party repeated the ascent, and showed that it was possible by
passing round to the gap at the back to continue the climb along the
ridge. The usual route nowadays is to reach the ridge by the scree
gully between the Arrowhead and the Eagle’s Nest _arête_, climbing
up the side wall to the notch, and so avoiding the Arrowhead itself.
The wall is steep, but its ledges are conveniently disposed, and no
trouble should be experienced in the ascent. Once on the ridge the
climbing is delightful. The holds are good, and the narrowness of the
crest along which we pass gives the spice of sensationalism that at
all times offers an apology for easy climbing. The actual ascent of
the ridge need take but twenty minutes, the descent about half an hour
for a party of three, when conditions are favourable. There is one
_mauvais pas_ of moderate quality: a wall of ten feet must be mounted
to reach the crest of a tower on the ridge. Then follows a long stride
across the gap on the other side, and it is sometimes amusing to watch
the timid climber who fears that he may not be able to swing the hind
leg over when in the colossus attitude half-way across. Above this all
difficulties soon disappear; the gullies on either side rapidly rise to
our own level, and the ridge ends shortly before the crest of the Napes
is reached.
The view facing page 153 shows the Arrowhead at the left-hand top
corner, the Eagle’s Nest Ridge against the sky, the lower half of the
Needle Ridge, and the Gable Needle itself.