_THE WASTWATER SCREES_
[Illustration:
G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick
THE SCREES AND WASTWATER]
Wastwater, the deepest lake in the district, occupies a flat-bottomed
depression in Wastdale. It is just three miles long, and its very
regular shores somewhat detract from the prettiness of its scenery. But
the wild character of the hills that inclose it gives it a grandeur
that is not possessed to an equal extent by any of the other lakes in
the country. Its direction is north-east and south-west; Upper Wastdale
is at its northern end. The road up the valley from Strands runs close
to the lake along its north-western side, and is good enough for
driving or bicycling as far as Wastdale Head. There it terminates as
a driving-road, but paths lead to the north over the Black Sail Pass
and eastwards over the Styhead. As we walk up the road, Buckbarrow
towers in steep crags a mile away to the left; then on the same side
we skirt the gentler slopes of Middle Fell, and after crossing Nether
Beck, Yewbarrow exhibits a singular change of outline, from that of
a steep and narrow pyramid to a long level-topped grassy ridge with
no architectural pretensions whatever. On the other side of the lake
is the ridge of the Screes, one of the most singular mountains in
Britain. Its highest point is by no means striking to look at, a matter
of 2,000 feet above the sea. For a length of three miles the ridge
is broken away in a line of cliff of almost uniform height, towering
1,500 feet over the lake. The character of the rock, and perhaps also
an unusually great exposure to weathering influences, has caused an
enormous wear and tear of the face of the cliff. Thus it is that huge
screes have been formed that flow straight down into the lake. The
action is still going on. If we take a walk along the edge of the
cliff, and this way of enjoying the round of Wastwater may be strongly
recommended to tourists, we cannot help noticing that at the heads of
the big gullies which indicate the regions of maximum erosion, slight
preliminary landslips have already occurred. The grassy ridge is marked
in many places by curved terraces, showing definite subsidence and
taking the general shape of the gully head. A few years ago a great
mass of rock detached itself from the top of the cliff near its highest
point, and thundered down towards the lake. It happened at night and
nobody was there to see, but the terrific noise gave serious alarm to
the inhabitants of the valley. It has been estimated that the volume
of rock that broke away was as great as the Manchester Town Hall, but
the comparison is perhaps worth little, for to many a north-countryman
there is nothing greater than the Manchester Town Hall, and the
expression may have been used merely to denote that the rock-fall was
very big. The scar may still be seen on the face, if one knows where
to look for it; the scree below it appeared fresh for many months. The
rich colouring of red and yellow in the rocks has caused the scree
itself to assume an astonishing variety of tints, and when viewed in
sunlight the effects are most remarkable.
From the climbing point of view this continual weathering is altogether
unsatisfactory. The rocks are too uncertain, and in most cases the
gullies are too much occupied by scree. But towards the lower end of
the lake we find that certain different conditions obtain. The rocks
are firmer, there is less scree at their base, and it shows plainly by
its grass covering that the fresh supply is strictly limited.
The last great bastion of the high ridge rises opposite Wastdale Hall.
It is cut off from the crags on the left by the Great Gully, which
runs up to the sky-line through a height of a thousand feet. On the
right a slighter gully practically indicates the end of the precipitous
portion of the face. Cutting deeply into the centre of the bastion
itself is a third gully that is continued straight on to the sky-line;
if anything it is a few feet shorter than the Great Gully, though much
more difficult to climb. I propose to describe these two only. From all
accounts it would appear that they represent fully the satisfactory
routes up the Screes. The sketch in Haskett Smith’s book shows them as
B and C (the reader can let B stand for ‘big’ and C for ‘central’).
That which is marked A in his sketch is no climb at all. It is just
a gully and nothing more, but it was not quite so worthy of being
labelled as the next great one to the left.
The B gully was first climbed in the winter of 1891-2 by Messrs.
Collie, Hastings, and Robinson, and an interesting account of
the ascent, contributed by Dr. Collie, appeared in the ‘Scottish
Mountaineering Journal’ for January, 1894. A year later Mr. Mummery
made the second ascent. Not so long afterwards Robinson showed me the
way up with a large party of enthusiasts, whose strength and nerve were
pretty well exhausted by the time we dragged ourselves over the last
pitch.
Concerning the early history of the attempts on the C gully I have
not been able to gather much information. Many parties have started
up it with the impression that they were undertaking the Great Gully,
but they never succeeded in finishing it. On April 19, 1895, Messrs.
Lawrence, Simpson, and Patchell, made a magnificent assault on it,
and by the merest accident they had to give in almost at the moment
of success. They climbed seven pitches, the gully getting harder at
each successive pitch. Then, when worn out with fatigue and exposure
to wet and cold, they misjudged the difficulty of the ninth pitch. It
is certainly most formidable to look at from below the eighth, but
on closer examination its difficulties vanish. That is to say, they
become insignificant for a party that can get over the seventh pitch.
They saw two more huge obstacles looming above the ninth, and were
completely disheartened. There happened to be an easy exit on the left,
and they took to it. Once or twice since that date others have tried
the gully again, but without effecting any further advance. In April,
1897, Mr. H. C. Bowen accompanied me from Wastdale in an attempt.
Circumstances favoured us throughout, and the gully yielded to our
attack. I believe it is one of the hardest climbs that either of us has
yet effected in Cumberland, but that may be because it is one of the
most recent. Before attempting it visitors to the district should see
first if they can comfortably manage the B gully.
THE GREAT GULLY OF THE SCREES (B).--The usual way of reaching
it from Wastdale Head is by the road as far as the second field beyond
Wastdale Hall. There a path across the bridge can be found, and the
course of the stream followed up to the lake side. The foot of the
gully is reached in fifteen minutes by bearing obliquely upwards
across ancient scree. Its aspect is such as to directly face the small
peninsula across the water a trifle to the left of the Hall. The right
edge of the gully extends further downwards than the left, and a small
stream of water is usually finding its way down the rough scree bed.
A few feet up we reach the first obstacle, in the shape of a broken
waterfall altogether about thirty feet high. It is usual to take to
the steep grass on the left, a route that looks easier than it actually
is. When the soil is damp the earth comes away like sand, and there is
little reliability in the holds all the way up. We step with relief
into the bed of the gully again, and look up to see what the prospect
is. An easy slope leads towards a second waterfall, considerably
higher than the first. Ordinarily there is no chance of surmounting it
directly, but a way of avoiding it discloses itself as we approach. The
gully divides into two, the main portion being to the left, and a fine
branch passing up to a height of 150 feet on the right. We start by
climbing the first pitch in the branch gully--a narrow vertical corner
in the wall down which a vigorous spout of water jets like a hydrant.
There are a few ledges on the left side which enable us to avoid some
of the water, but if there has been much rain before our expedition it
is impossible to keep dry during the ascent.
It was here that I saw a sinful act of revenge that grieved me much
at the time. My companions had been with me up the Scawfell Pinnacle
by the Deep Ghyll route on the previous day, and one had kept the
others in painful attitudes on the cliff while he leisurely proceeded
to photograph us. The partner of my woes vowed vengeance, and exacted
it here on the Screes. His turn it was to manipulate the camera, and
his wicked malice prompted him to insist on taking a photograph when
his brother was half-way up the corner. We had given him the right of
choosing his subject and could not complain, especially as he was loud
in his praise of the view and in his grief at his brother’s cramped and
drenched condition. But he was in good humour for the rest of the day,
and that was worth paying for.
The position now is that a buttress separates us from the main gully.
We have to clamber a few feet up this, next along a shallow, sloping
scoop as far as it goes, and then traverse across to the head of the
big fall. The leader is not able to derive much help from the rope
in case of a slip, but it is as well for the second man to climb
thirty feet up the right wall of the branch gully, so as to be higher
than the pioneer. The buttress looks much broken from below, but the
general slope is to our disadvantage, and the final traverse is along
a crumbling ledge of earth and grass. Frost occasionally makes the
climbing easier, by binding the earth firmly to the rock.
The view across the lake from the top of the waterfall is very
beautiful. The rich dark green of the pines that grow down to the
water’s edge on the other side form a striking contrast to the gaunt
and barren walls of black rock that close in the view. Buckbarrow fills
up the background, the severity of its seamed precipices softened by
distance.
The branch gully, it may here be mentioned, has never been climbed
throughout. It ends on the bastion at no great height above us, and is
probably not very stiff. I tried it one Christmas Day with Messrs.
Robinson and Fowler, but we rose no higher than the little notch on the
thin curtain of rock that forms its right boundary. We got soaked in
the little waterfall, and the bitter cold drove us back unsuccessful.
We had difficulties with the awkward chimney above the narrow corner.
Keeping up the main gully, an easy stretch takes us to the third pitch.
It is a water-slide, and we must hurry up quickly if dryness is still
any consideration. The best way is on the left. There are many holds
under the water, and our efforts to prevent its trickling down our arms
will be futile if we get flurried by nasty remarks from those behind.
Almost before we can gain breath again we are confronted by a similar
difficulty. The water-slide here is taken first on the right, until a
slanting crack leads across to the other side. The climbing is rather
stiff near the top, and careful search should be made for the safest
footholds.
The fifth pitch that we now approach is generally regarded as the
hardest. It is undoubtedly difficult when taken by the route first
discovered. A long wet slope of rock divides the gully into two parts.
On the right there seems little likelihood of finding a way up. The
great overhanging slabs are fifty feet high, and water is continually
pouring down them. On the left the chance of success is greater. A
slanting crack lies between the rock slope and the side wall. It leads
straight up to a hole underneath a huge overhanging boulder that
dominates the pitch. There we can see a choice of route. The way first
adopted is to wriggle up the chimney between the boulder and the left
wall; but it is preferable to crawl out of the hole to the right and
make an exit over rounded boulders to the top of the obstacle. The
chimney is extremely stiff, the main difficulty being to make a start
from the hole. If the cave had a level bottom the difficulties would
be much moderated. There are no holds on the boulder itself and very
few on the side wall, but those few make it worth while starting with
the face to the wall. Six feet higher, when the climber is in the most
exposed situation, he must turn half round and use both sides of the
chimney. If the leader cannot get into the crack unassisted, it is
a good plan for the second to hitch himself to a jammed boulder at
the back of the cave and proffer a shoulder as a take-off. The first
explorers had ice to contend against and proceeded in a still more
cautious manner, all three combining their strength at the awkward
corner. I have three times seen men swing off on the rope when half
way up the chimney, and am bound to admit that there is too much
touch-and-go for the way to suit any but very strong climbers. The
easier way out of the hole--first taken, I think, by Messrs. Whitaker
and Thorp--seems to reduce the difficulty considerably, and will
probably become a favourite exit.
Above the fifth pitch we step out into a huge amphitheatre of rock.
It is difficult to decide which is the main gully, and many men are
willing to conclude that there is no more hard work in front, and that
a speedy passage out of the hollow will conduce most to their happiness.
The real gully passes up on the left. A branch starts pleasantly
enough to the right, but after one or two fairly easy pitches we are
confronted by a blank, wet wall. The sides are steep and spiky and
rotten; it was a most miserable hour I once spent getting over forty
feet of this dreadful _cul-de-sac_, and ever since I have solemnly
warned others from any such attempt to shirk the final part of the
Great Gully. If they wish to get out, they should keep still more to
the right, over steep grass and occasional slight rock. Traversing in
a westerly or south-westerly direction, they pass across the heads of
several gullies, above the worst portion of the C gully, and then out
on the fell side, whence an easy run takes them down to the bridge.
The three or four pitches that must be overcome in mounting to the head
of the true Great Gully are short but difficult. The ghyll is narrow
and wet and it is almost impossible towards the finish to avoid a
drenching by the slender stream that monopolizes the direct route. The
last pitch is ordinarily circumvented by passing up the nasty wall of
loose earth and rocky _débris_ on the left. This diversion leads on to
an easy broken buttress from which we can walk into the gully again and
up its scree finish to the crest of the precipice.
On the occasion of my first ascent we were four and a half hours in the
gully. A second expedition to the top of the fifth pitch took three
hours; and half that time was spent at photography.
THE CENTRAL GULLY (C).--Bowen and I had been climbing together
for some days last Easter (1897), and were reserving an attempt on the
C gully for the latter end of our holiday, to give ourselves the chance
of getting into good form and the place an opportunity for drying up.
One fine morning we heard that another party were driving down the
valley on their way to the Great Gully. They offered us seats in their
wagonette. We gladly accepted, and had a pleasant drive along the
lakeside as far as Wastdale Hall. The walk round to the foot of our
climb occupied us the best part of half an hour, and we then left our
friends to continue their journey, arranging to look out for them at
the top of the Screes a few hours later.
The gully was easy at the outset, but far up above us we could see
difficulties in plenty, and we began the scramble with a sense of
future bliss that rather detracted from our present enjoyment.
We passed up on the left-hand side of the first pitch at 11-18, over
fifteen feet of steep grass and rock. The holds were fairly good beside
the waterfall. A few feet further on the gully narrowed at a second
pitch--a steep gutter down which the stream endeavoured to smooth a
way. We could use ledges on either side, and at the top a tree-stem
that has lain there for some years gave us assistance. The pitch is
about twenty-five feet high.
Then there followed two easy ten-feet bits before we found ourselves
compelled at the fifth pitch to quit the bed of the gully. This
obstacle sent us off to the left up a steep grass bank before we could
traverse back into the narrow chimney at an assailable spot. We were
obliged to use our knees for wedging safely in the V-shaped corner, and
thus had our introduction to the water-way. The ledges were few and
slippery. Ten feet up the corner a jammed stone and a slippery slab
guarded the head of the pitch. We reached the former actually behind
the water, and hastened out to the left with but slight steadying holds
for the hands.
Then we halted a little and looked about us. We had gone through the
preliminaries, and realized that our gully was now getting stiff. The
view upwards showed the great seventh pitch, but nothing higher. Far
below we could see the end of the lake. The prospect was not nearly so
fine as that from the Great Gully; the rocks were not so boldly carved
out, nor the outlook so fair.
The next obstacle was formed by a jammed boulder thirty feet high,
impossible to climb direct. It would perhaps have been best to take
it on the right, but we advanced tentatively up the other side, and
then, seeing that it would just go, kept on to the top. Our route lay
up the narrow crack between the boulder and the side wall. A shoulder
was useful for the leader at the start, but he had a bad six feet just
above. The only hold for the right hand was obtained by clenching the
fist inside the crack so as to form a wedge. A far-away notch in the
wall gave an oblique push-off for the left foot, the struggle being
mainly to keep close to the crack.
The difficulties now became almost continuous, and we were unable
to define exactly the beginning of the seventh pitch. Some twenty
feet of steep climbing up the bed of the ghyll first followed and we
reached a little platform whence a branch gully of steep grass led out
on the buttress to our left. The main gully was thirty feet across,
narrowing a little higher up. An almost vertical rib of rock some six
feet thick divided the gully into two parts. That on the right was a
wide recess roofed in by a great stone nearly a hundred feet overhead.
From our little platform we could see the water streaming over the
edge of the roof, and forming a thin veil at the entrance to the cave.
The left-hand side of the rib was a narrow crack sloping back at an
angle of about 45°, but after the first thirty feet continuing to
the top perpendicularly. The route we chose lay first up the crack,
then across the rib and into the cave. A second start being made from
there, we proposed to climb up the vertical rib, taking to the crack
on its left whenever the difficulties became extreme. At the level of
the roof of the cavern we were to traverse across on to it and make
directly up its smooth slope and round by the left of a higher jammed
block that overhung the finishing portion of the pitch. I think the
route differs a little from that of the first party, who were somewhat
assisted by a jammed stone then in the crack. In fact one member
considered the stone essential for a successful ascent, and that its
untimely removal closed the upper half for ever. But there can be no
doubt that in a dry season the obstacle can be overcome by a moderately
strong party, and that in the normal ‘streamy’ state of the gully the
climber needs but the knowledge of a route and the nerve to follow it
without hesitation and without regard to dryness.
[Illustration:
I. PLATE VI.
THE WASTWATER SCREES (p. 191).
The height of CC is about 1,000 feet.
A An Easy Gully.
B The Great Gully (1891).
C The Central Gully (1897).
D A Minor Gully, not very difficult.
_b_ The Curtain.
_c_ The Easy Traverse.
_d_ Descent from Traverse.
II
THE PAVEY ARK GULLIES (p. 208).
The height of BB is about 400 feet.
A Little Gully (1886).
B The Great Gully (1882).
C Easy Scree Gully.
D Jack’s Rake.
E Stickle Tarn.]
We found the way easy up to the cave. There Bowen braced himself firmly
amidst the bright green ferns and endeavoured to reconcile himself to
the prospect of a long wait. He could not trace out my route upwards,
for the curtain of water was between us, but now and again when
troubles were thickest he would inquire feelingly after my condition.
It was straightforward climbing out from the cave and up to the
vertical buttress. But the absence of suitable holds in the crack on
the left made the next twenty feet very severe, and I was glad to find
at last a series of ledges across to the top of the cave. The holds
were wet and my fingers benumbed. If the ledges had been anything but
satisfactory the traverse would have been highly incorrect, not to
say immoral. Then the rope had to be lengthened out and the wait was
unpleasant. But the rock slope was a much simpler matter than it had
appeared to be from below, and the rest of the pitch was scarcely more
than a walk. I drew up over the last block with much relief, and paused
to recover warmth and feeling before drawing in the rope for Bowen. He
climbed with great rapidity and practically left out the traverse; it
was rather vexatious to find that he emerged fresh and comparatively
dry. It was now 12-34 P.M., and so far we had advanced rapidly.
A few feet in front was a long thin crack, looking easy but proving
awkward at close quarters. We found it best to traverse up the smooth
slab on the left and then crawl along a rickety ledge of grass and
rock back to the gully again. Were we nevermore to find an easy
piece? Almost at once a ninth pitch faced us, looking somewhat like
the eighth. The gully suddenly narrows to a V-groove which springs
up vertically for twelve feet, then slopes away at 45° for twenty
feet, and finally is blocked by a few boulders before widening out
again. Just before the constriction occurs, the walls of the ravine
slope outwards at an easy angle, and the tangle of thickly-matted
grass disguises the treacherous character of the rock underneath.
This has been splintered and loosened by frost and sturdy vegetation.
Great masses in many steep places are ready to fall at a touch,
and scrambling is robbed of its pleasures by the sense of possible
insecurity of every available hold. I tried at first to keep up the
crack, but just at the corner where it trends obliquely upwards the
difficulties of holding on proved too great and a cautious descent
had to be effected. Then we looked to the left up a steep little gully
fifty feet high. It ended abruptly in the main wall of the ravine,
but a great splinter of rock at the highest corner gave us a chance
of belaying. Bowen clambered gingerly over the broken ground and tied
himself to the rock. Then, slipping my rope round it, he prepared to
hold me during the next move. Our plan was to clamber up the loose
face on the left of the awkward pitch and traverse into the gully
twenty-five feet higher. My rope was dragging along the wall, and would
have dislodged a good deal if suddenly called upon to break my fall.
The worst bit was the last six feet of traverse, which I very much
loosened during the passage. The gully was then bestridden and both
sides used for the finishing portion of the pitch. When Bowen came
along, the traverse broke away at his touch, and it was rather alarming
to see him start falling backwards. But the rope was tight above him
and he simply swung round into the gully; it was the most expeditious
mode of entering, but he bruised his leg a little at the final bump. We
afterwards agreed that the second man ought to take the whole obstacle
direct. Trying to repeat the ascent again in April, 1898, by exactly
the same manœuvres, the slight remnant of traverse broke away with me
and I had a bad fall. I was saved, of course, by the rope. The direct
ascent of the watercourse has been proved to be possible, and is now
much the better way.
Such was the ninth pitch, probably the one misjudged by Dr. Lawrence’s
party on April 9, 1895. They had taken four hours to climb to the
eighth, remarkably good going when one considers the bad condition
of the gully during their ascent and the amount of new ground they
managed to cover. We had mounted in a little less than an hour and
three quarters; but we were only a small party and the circumstances
very favourable. They saw a hundred-feet pitch following on a few yards
higher and endeavoured to estimate its difficulties. From below the
aspect is terrifying, and after a slight survey they decided to work
out of the ravine by an easy exit up the left wall. Thence they saw a
few more pitches higher up beyond the tenth, and were convinced that
they had done right. But they were mistaken, as our experience proved.
A little direct scrambling up the bed of the gully took us to the foot
of the great obstacle. A water-shoot splashes on to the left wall
eighty feet up, and is deflected into the cavernous depths of a black
recess formed in the gully by a long buttress that divides it into two
parts. The climb up through the splashing water appears to be almost
hopeless, and a view from above of the last twenty feet shows that the
risk would be extreme if the pitch were attacked on that side. But the
buttress will be found on inspection to close in a sort of chimney on
the right, fairly easy to reach and most comfortable to follow up to
its finish three feet above the level of the top of the waterfall.
This branch chimney is safe and dry. There are no loose stones about,
and the occasional glimpses of the furious shoot over the way are very
pleasing. They were so to us, at any rate, who had been in fear and
trembling lest we should be compelled to attack the pitch through the
waterfall. We were surprised at our good fortune, and none the less
on seeing that the difficulties above were insignificant. A short
scree and an easy twelve-feet obstacle brought us up to the well-known
traverse across the face of the mountain.
We could hear occasional shouting of our friends in the Great Gully.
It tempted us to work over to them and finish on the final chimneys
of their climb. But we felt constrained to keep straight up, lest any
further pitches should linger unclimbed. The C gully was to acknowledge
itself vanquished from beginning to end, and we set ourselves to finish
the task. Little actually remained. A steep climb of thirty feet,
using both sides of the gully, with poor holds near the top, virtually
brought us to an end of its interesting and extended series of pitches.
A scramble up the last water-slide and a muddy slope led to the long
scree finish, and we emerged at the summit shortly after two o’clock.
The walk home over Ill Fell took an hour and a half.