Rock-climbing in the English Lake District / Third Edition

is too general a motto among book-writers for me to hesitate long before incorporating other people’s notes, and the attempt will be made to acknowledge the source in each case.

Piers Ghyll.—This is a fine-looking ravine on the north side of Lingmell, occasionally visited by climbers. It has four or five comparatively easy pitches before the big bend, but at the point where the main gully is bridged by a great mass of rock the whole width of the ravine is occupied by a waterfall fifty feet high, and any attempt to force a passage up this pitch is peculiarly unsatisfactory unless a rainless season has much diminished the volume of water passing down. Such a season was that of 1893, and in April of that year Dr. Collier led the first party up the whole length of the ghyll. Even under those favourable circumstances the climb was very difficult, and no other party has succeeded in repeating the ascent. Dr. Collier tells me that the hardest bit is up the narrow pitch before reaching the great fall. The latter offers a choice of two or three routes.

Piers Ghyll is conspicuous from a distance, and many a tourist knows the place. Hence it has a reputation of its own even as a climb, which it can scarcely be said to deserve. If, as Haskett Smith expresses it, it is in nineteen seasons out of twenty wholly impossible to get over the great obstacle, it cannot rightly be called a climb. The scrambling up to the bend is mostly unpleasant by reason of the water and the loose character of the rock. An exit can there be made up the wall on the right, but the friability of this wall makes its ascent positively dangerous except at one spot where a scree gully runs nearly to the top of the cliff.

A most interesting account of the ghyll, giving certain of the adventures that explorers have encountered, may be read in ‘All the Year Round’ of November, 1884. It was contributed by Mr. C. N. Williamson; other parts of this article dealing with Cumberland climbing have already been referred to.

High Stile.—The north side of this mountain is precipitous, and two or three short but interesting gullies can be followed up to the ridge. Two of them can easily be recognised from Buttermere village. The central gully faces towards the north-west and is to the right of the highest point on the mountain. It has two well-defined pitches, the second being very severe. The writer climbed it in 1893 with Mr. John Robinson, before taking the chimney described in the next paragraph, but seemingly it has rarely been visited since.

To the left of the central gully a wide black chimney can be seen, leading up close to the summit of High Stile. It offers a short but very difficult scramble; in pulling up over the edge of the great pitch care must be taken to avoid the loose stones. In the first ascent the leader had a bad encounter with three boulders that slipped over on to his head.

A long, easy gully in the north-east shoulder of the mountain offers a pleasant route down from the summit to the shores of Buttermere.

Buckbarrow.—The side of this hill facing Wastwater has sundry attractions. Climbers who are not pressed for time, on their way from Wastdale to the nearest stations on the Furness Railway, can be recommended to visit the crag.

The first main gully at the northern end was climbed at Easter, 1892; two short parallel chimneys terminate the ascent, that on the left being supposed to be the harder. Besides this route, there are a few ways of tackling the face further to the west; but details are not at hand by reason of the rarity of the visits to Buckbarrow.

Sergeant Crag Chimney.—This was first ascended by Mr. John Robinson and the writer in September, 1893. The crag itself is reached by walking up Langstrath from the village of Rosthwaite for about a mile and then bearing to the left. Close to the stream, at the point where we leave the track, is the Gash Rock, an isolated boulder that offers considerable resistance to any one attempting to climb it. It was climbed first by the writer in 1893. A good hold has recently been cleared at the critical point on the boulder. The scramble is said to be quite easy now.

The gully in the crag is in sight half-a-mile below the Gash Rock, and is well worth the visit of a strong party. It was noticed in 1886 by Mr. Haskett Smith, but seven years elapsed before the first ascent was made. Curiously enough, the second ascent was effected a day or two later by Messrs. Phillimore and Anderson, in entire ignorance that the gully had so recently been overcome.

Information embodied in the following notes of the successive pitches has been supplied by the brothers Abraham of Keswick, whose interesting photograph of the great pitch in the middle of the ascent is reproduced facing page 286.

First Pitch.—Chock-stone about fifteen feet high, passed to the left on the face of the rock. Good hand and foot holds.

Second Pitch.—Small chock-stone. Both hands are reached up to the top of the stone and a straight pull over effected with the arms. The obstacle is about nine feet high.

Third Pitch.—Sundry boulders forming a block, about fifteen feet high. The right-hand side of the gully is ascended until the leader is well wedged under the block. Then he can pass out to the left and over at the top.

Fourth Pitch.—This is the most severe of the whole set, and the direct climb up the left wall is probably as stiff a problem as can be found in the district. Two immense boulders, one over the other, separated by a gap of four feet, form the roof of a cave. The retaining walls of the gully form the sides of the cave, and the ascent is to be effected on the left. From a short distance this appears to be a smooth vertical slab; even on close inspection the holds it offers appear to be of the most minute dimensions.

The second man on the rope should mount as high up the interior of the cave as possible. After climbing under the first boulder the leader takes a long step out to the left wall, on a sloping ledge. Then using side holds on the boulder itself, with his feet or knees against the main wall, he has to work up gradually to a little jammed boulder two feet above the lower one. This is an extremely fatiguing operation. On to this block he must lift his knees, and then he can cautiously drag up so as to stand on it.

The upper boulder is then passed by throwing the left leg across to a slight foothold, whence a thrust forward of the body is effected through wet soil and tufted ferns. This is particularly unpleasant after rainy weather, and is probably at all times somewhat risky. The height of the pitch is thirty-two feet.

A variation has been found which makes the passage of this obstacle much more feasible. It leads first downwards to a grassy ledge on the right, and then up by succeeding shelves until the upper level of the pitch is reached, when the return traverse back to the bed of the gully can be easily managed. Hitherto all parties, except the first and third in the chimney, have preferred to avoid the fourth pitch, and their preference is most reasonable.

Fifth Pitch.—This is an easy chimney twenty feet long, lined with grass and ferns, and marked at the summit by a fallen tree.

Sixth Pitch.—Two wedged stones one above the other form a pitch about twenty feet high. The route is first into the cave between the stones, then up a short chimney and over the upper boulder. The second on the rope should ascend as high as possible in the cave and, with splendid anchorage, pay out the leader’s rope carefully. Sundry loose stones are lodged on the right, and should be left discreetly alone.

Seventh Pitch.—This is a chimney thirty feet high containing many loose stones. It is crowned by a chock-stone. The ascent is directly up the first part, and then over loose and dangerous rock on the right for another twenty feet.

Steep grass leads out to the top, 500 feet from the base of the cliff.

Blea Crags and Mouse Ghyll.—The Blea Crag climbs in Borrowdale can be reached from Grange in thirty-five minutes; a fine general view is to be seen from the picturesque bridge spanning the Derwent. There are three gullies of interest; one to the south is now known as Mouse Ghyll, climbed and christened in the autumn of 1897, by Mr. W. Cecil Slingsby’s party; a second less-defined gully leads up the centre of the crags; and to the north of this a third takes us by loose and rather unsatisfactory pitches to the summit ridge.

Mouse Ghyll starts very narrow, with smooth walls running up to a great height on either side. An easy pitch of ten feet brings us to a little platform, whence a steep, double staircase, with good steps for each foot, gives safe access to a great cavern sixty feet higher. Here the real difficulties begin. The pitch is formed by two huge, overhanging boulders, one above the other, with a grassy ledge between them. The leader can be well anchored by his party, and makes a start up to the left from the top of the rib of rock that supplies the ‘staircase.’ It is sensational work up to the grassy ledge, where again the leader requires anchoring, and perhaps also a helping shoulder for the next little chimney of some fourteen feet, between the upper boulder and the left wall. When the first party were here, a startled mouse sprang from the grassy ledge over the leader’s head, and dropped safely at the bottom of the staircase ninety feet below. May it live long enough to learn that the ghyll has been named in its honour!

On emerging from the chimney three routes show themselves. The first is up two easy pitches that remain in the gully. To the right a chimney leads by an open buttress to the top of the crags, and can be ascended without trouble. But on the left a prominent chimney, succeeded by a narrow crack, gives seventy feet of extremely tough climbing. It was ascended by Messrs. George and Ashley Abraham, who made the second ascent of Mouse Ghyll.

The central gully starts with a chimney, best taken on the right, and continues with short and easy pitches until some large boulders wedged in a vertical crack offer better fun. There are no further obstacles.

I am indebted to Messrs. George and Ashley Abraham and to Mr. Slingsby for the information in this section. They assure me that the climbing in Mouse Ghyll is of a first-rate order, and the scenery of lake and fellside almost unsurpassable in the country.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

Walker’s Gully, Pillar Rock.—The Christmas of 1898 at Wastdale was marked by heavy rain and unseasonable conditions. Several large parties of climbers had come to the hotel, and, after a day or two of smoking and grumbling, had departed; until, at the New Year, Mr. Jones and myself were the only climbers left there. To keep ourselves in training, we struggled up through the powdery snow of the Central Gully on Gable Crag, performed many rash feats on the end of the barn and the billiard-table, besides leaving a considerable quantity of our clothing on the ‘Mosedale Boulder.’

Early in January we walked over to Keswick; and found, on returning, that another party had arrived, amongst whom was my friend Mr. A. E. Field. We greeted him as warmly as we could under such cold conditions; and when, later in the evening, we disclosed our intention to climb Walker’s Gully, he was quite ‘keen’ on undertaking the very necessary duties of ‘third man.’ Our party was now complete; but the heavy rain-clouds still rolled up from the sea, and the weather continued persistently bad. We were forced at last to the conclusion that, if Walker’s Gully had then to be climbed, it would have to be done regardless of bad weather and personal discomfort.

As a result of this reasoning, the early morning of January 7th, 1899, saw the three of us trudging patiently up the Black Sail Pass in a tremendous downpour of rain and sleet; but, notwithstanding this, with the climber’s cheery optimism, a ‘fair-up’ was confidently prophesied. As an exception to the general rule, our prophecy was fulfilled; for, just as we reached the soft snow on Looking Stead, the huge banks of mist rolled up from both valleys, and far away in the north we saw ‘hoary-headed old Skiddaw’ bathed in sunshine, while a keen dry wind blew up out of Ennerdale. We trudged along through the snow on the High Level, and about mid-day were facing the ice-covered slabs and snow-wreathed ledges on the north-east side of the Pillar Rock. Little was said as we scrambled to the foot of Walker’s Gully; for each of us fully recognised what was ahead, and it was better to be silent, than to utter discouraging remarks.

The rope was put on at the foot of the crags, Field being the ‘anchor’ of the party, whilst I, as usual, was placed next to Jones, to serve as a special buttress when hand and foot holds should become scarce. A strong jet of ice-cold water came rushing down over the first pitch, so that, not wishing to have our enthusiasm cooled so early in the day, we climbed up the wet, slippery slabs on our left. About fifty feet higher we had some difficulty in a shallow sloping chimney, down which a mud avalanche seemed to have fallen quite recently, and here our leader remarked ‘we ought to have been equipped with mud-guards.’ We were soon facing the main gully, with its tremendous chock-stones rising one above the other, over which streamed large quantities of water, suggesting a somewhat too rapid cleansing of our mud-stained garments. We entered the chimney and found it just wide enough to back up, with both feet on the right-hand wall; the falling ice-chips apprising us of the fact that hard work was in progress higher up.

We climbed very rapidly for about fifty feet, close together, until almost within touch of the uninviting stream of water falling over the first jammed boulder, which was now just above our heads. Knowing this to be one of the most difficult pitches in the lower part of the climb, a short ‘council of war’ was held, for all seemed desirous of avoiding a cold bath as long as possible. Then, screwing up his courage, Jones made a bold dash through the waterfall to the back of the cave. Knowing his objection to monopolising pleasures of this kind, we followed him, and were soon all gasping and shivering below the jammed boulder. After further consideration and experiment, the only safe course, apparently, was for me to stand under the waterfall and give the leader a shoulder over the mauvais pas. As our ablutions seemed likely now to be very thorough, we ate our lunch and watched, for a time, the falling water, which, in my opinion, to some extent spoilt the view. The discomfort of our position, however, soon impressed upon us the necessity of moving. Field therefore held me firmly from the back of the cave, whilst I stood under the shower-bath; and Jones mounted on my shoulders, from whence he reached a hold on the top of the boulder, over which he pulled himself with an exclamation of delight. I then retired to the cave with considerable alacrity. Sounds from above warned us that the leader was scarcely yet secure, so we steadily paid out about forty feet of his rope, until he reached safe anchorage at the top of the three boulders forming the pitch. In following we wasted very little time under the waterfall, and soon joined Jones on a little snow-patch, from which we could study the situation. A hundred feet or so higher, and apparently overhanging our present position, was the top jammed boulder. Evidence was not wanting, however, to show us that we were not safe from falling objects; for, stuck in a curiously upright position in the snow in front of us, were three walking-sticks, with two pairs of torn gloves and some much-worn socks lying by their side. We thought at first a party of tourists had somehow reached here and forgotten their ‘impedimenta;’ but our leader remembered that some friends, having climbed the Pillar Rock at Christmas, had thrown their sticks and luggage down into Jordan Gap before descending themselves. The snow proved harder than they thought, their property making an unexpected descent into Walker’s Gully, and here were we confronted with the opportunity of acting as a rescue party; but, not thirsting for fame, we decided to leave the relics undisturbed.

Jones now led us up several small, wet pitches, until we came to a sudden stop in a great cave, where there was no apparent way out, except through a very small hole high up in its roof; an outside route being practically impossible on account of the accumulation of ice on both walls. Jones remarked that he was not going ‘to emulate the camel that failed to go through the eye of a needle;’ so, to reduce his bulk as far as possible, he emptied his pockets and left his wet jacket for Field to sit upon. No holds on the side of the cave were available, so the leader climbed upon my shoulders, but he could barely reach his arms through the hole. Field, meanwhile, was smoking and making the most of his comfortable position. With somewhat insincere apologies, we called on him to form an additional buttress, and, from his shoulders, I was able to force the leader through the hole, amidst the sound of tearing clothes and muffled remonstrances from their owner.

I shall not readily forget my own sufferings in that hole. The first attempt, from Field’s shoulders, was a complete failure, because the upper part of my body absolutely refused to fit the shape of the hole. After several fruitless efforts and much wasted energy, I happened to look up and saw Jones smiling down at me. “That is not right. Go down and have another try,” said he. He then loosed the rope rather suddenly, whereupon I made an unexpected descent upon Field, who was standing below enjoying my troubles; and there was much confusion in the cave. After extricating ourselves, Field again kindly placed his shoulders at my service, but from a somewhat higher level than before, and this, with the aid of his ice-axe applied from below, ultimately landed me at the top of the hole feeling very roughly handled. Field then sent up our jackets, and, after the hole had been slightly enlarged by removing some loose rocks, he came up himself in good style.

We were now at the foot of the formidable top-pitch, which had never been climbed. A sudden seriousness settled on us all as we looked up at it, and remembered that this pitch had defied some of the finest cragsmen of our time. The walls on both sides were perpendicular, and the rounded appearance of the rocks suggested an unusual absence of hand and foot holds, whilst the presence of ice in several places caused us much uneasiness. There were three large flat chock-stones piled irregularly right across the chasm. Towards the upper one, which overhung considerably, the two walls converged so much that it seemed possible to ‘back up’ the last part of the climb, if the leader could only reach it safely. The only other alternative would be to climb up on the right wall, close under the lower chock-stone, and traverse outwards and upwards until suitable holds could be found. A troublesome sleet was beginning to fall; so that we were glad to climb into the cave directly beneath the chock-stones. A firm ‘hitch’ was discovered in the back of the cave, by which Field could anchor us; and he settled himself in a wet corner where his attention was occupied in dodging the drops of falling water and directing our movements.

Our first efforts were on the left wall; and by means of an ice-axe fixed in a narrow corner, Jones skilfully and safely wedged himself in a crack which led almost to the top of the first boulder. However, for the next half-hour his attempts to make further progress were in vain, for a hand could not be spared to chip the ice off the rocks; and it was found necessary to abandon this left wall and to try the opposite one, which now occupied our attention for some time. Jones made several attempts from a shoulder to effect a lodgment below the chock-stone. Then, whilst enjoying a well-earned rest, we espied a small rock, wedged high up in the crack between the main wall and the roof of the cave. That small rock proved to be the key of the situation, for, after probably the finest piece of climbing I have ever witnessed, a rope was passed through the hole behind it, and we were in a position to attempt the climb safely. We were all suffering acutely from cold, especially Field, on account of his inaction, though he declared that the excitement of our movements kept him warm. Notwithstanding this, our leader, taking off his boots and jacket, prepared for a long struggle on that icy wall, whilst I padded my head to gain an inch or two in height. Jones now swung up as high as possible on the hitched rope; then, while standing on my head, he found a very small hold for one of his toes, and after ascending a few feet was hidden from our sight by the intervening chock-stone. The next few minutes were anxious ones; we shivered with cold, and held the rope firmly in case there should be a mishap higher up. Almost immediately there was a rush of falling snow far out over the pitch, and it scarcely needed our leader’s jödel of success to assure us that at last Walker’s Gully had yielded to the onslaught of the climber.

We pushed the leader’s boots into his jacket pockets and sent up all our ‘luggage.’ Owing to the half-frozen condition of our fingers, tying the various things on the rope took so long a time, that we called forth an impatient exclamation from above. Eventually we, in turn, landed safely at the top, after swinging ignominiously on the rope, in much the same way as our ‘luggage’ had done. However, the great hitherto unclimbed pitch of Walker’s Gully was below us, and there followed the usual congratulations. Our progress up from the screes had been slow, something like three hours, but much time had been spent in reconnoitring under extremely bad conditions.

The situation was still rather serious, for we were perched on a narrow snow-ledge on the very brink of the upper chock-stone; and the three of us were almost in a state of collapse from cold and the saturated state of our clothes. The forced inaction of the leader, whilst we were finishing the climb, had made him so benumbed as to be almost helpless, and he was sitting with his feet in the wet snow, ineffectually trying to put on his boots. We had carefully kept some stockings and gloves dry in the rücksack; but the opening of the sack with half-frozen fingers proved unfortunate, for its contents escaped, and, with the other relics which had come down through Jordan Gap, now adorned the snow-patch far below. It was then agreed that this narrow, exposed ledge was, under the circumstances, not a suitable dressing room; so we gathered up our belongings, including our leader’s boots, and carefully ascended the snow until we came to a safe resting place. Here we resorted to the usual means of thawing ourselves, and our leader’s boots were restored to their appointed places.

The race up the steep snow seemed to revive our spirits, and, by the time the dry rocks below Great Doup were reached, our sufferings gave way to the glow of success. One little excitement was still in store for us, for Jones told us that he was threatened with frost-bite in both feet. On removing his boots we found that his statement was true, so we rubbed his feet with soft snow, and, before putting on his boots, the troublesome feet were placed as far as possible in the pockets of the warmest member of the party, until circulation was thoroughly restored.

Night was drawing on apace; so we bade farewell to our ‘vanquished foe,’ and were soon scampering along the High Level, bound for the well-earned comforts of Wastdale.

Iron Crag Chimney.—Towards the head of the Shoulthwaite Valley, which is 3½ miles from Keswick, near the road to Ambleside, may be seen high up on the right-hand side, a magnificent couloir. It runs up the south side of one of the steepest faces of rock in the district, and is called, after the rock, Iron Crag Chimney. We had passed in sight of the Crag scores of times, but the chimney is so cunningly hidden away on the far side from the road, that it was not until Mr. J. W. Robinson told us of it, that we dreamt of there being anything worth climbing there. He and my brother went to prospect it in March, 1896, but found it in such a very bad condition, that after climbing the comparatively easy first pitch, they were forced to beat a retreat. They came back, however, with a glowing account of the second pitch, and spoke very excitedly about ‘“a thing” at least 100 feet high, wet, mossy, and with an overhanging stone half-way up, from which the water dropped out four yards into the bed of the gully, 40 feet below.’ They thought, however, that a small ledge, up to which they had climbed, would continue far enough along the left wall of the gully to enable them to traverse well out from under the stone, and so reach the top of it. Of the nature of the climbing above that they knew nothing, but were both anxious to try it and confident of success.

Continued bad weather hindered another attempt until June of the same year, when Mr. F. W. Jackson and I joined the other two and we set out to attack this formidable ‘hundred-footer.’ The day was fine and the rocks in perfect condition, and we succeeded in climbing the chimney throughout. I intend to give more detail of the second ascent; but it may be as well to mention here that the second pitch only yielded after several attempts, by more than one member of the party, and only with the aid of a shoulder, given from the little ledge, was the leader able to climb to the top of the ‘chock-stone.’ After this another thirty feet of chimney brought us to the top of the pitch, and great were the rejoicings that we had, after a very severe struggle, mastered it. I shall never forget how white the face of one member of the party was when it appeared over the top of the pitch, how he yelled to us to ‘haul in the taut,’ how he ‘quoth “nevermore,”’ and how impolitely he spoke to the leader for having climbed it at all. Altogether this second pitch gave us a good deal of trouble, but the top part of the chimney, though very rotten and steep, and liable to come away in small quantities, was climbed with comparative ease.

After this, except some exploration of the Crags by Mr. H. W. Blunt, it was not visited again by climbers until the New Year of 1899, when Mr. O. G. Jones, with my father, my brother, and myself, found ourselves standing at the bottom of the first pitch. We had expatiated on the difficulty of the second pitch, and Jones was very keen on trying it, having, in fact, come over from Wastdale with us for that purpose. En route to Iron Crag we had climbed a gully on the west side of the massif, which consisted of a series of very interesting chimneys, the pleasures of which were greatly enhanced by magnificent views of Derwentwater. This had made us somewhat later than we anticipated, and an animated discussion was held at the bottom as to whether, considering the lateness of the hour and the bad condition of the gully, which was streaming with water, it would not be advisable for two of the party to stay below or go round and join the others at the top. This was decided against; ‘all or none,’ said Jones, so we roped up with him leading. He soon reached the small ledge under the stone, and then stopped to take breath and prospect. ‘Shall I come up to you?’ shouted my brother. ‘No thanks! I’ll have a try from here alone, and you would get wet through in no time up here,’ returned he. This consideration for my brother was utterly unlike him, for, amongst other similar occasions, I well remember one on which, in a gully—or rather waterfall—in Wales, he got wet through on the first pitch, and insisted on our finishing with him all the eight pitches. His look of glee when we emerged from the top of each pitch with the water running down us was a thing to be remembered. However, to return, he jammed his left foot against the left wall of the gully and pressed his back against the other, and almost before we had time to see what had happened, was smiling down on us from the top of the pitch. It was very disgusting to see him just ‘romp’ up the place we had found so difficult the year before, and when I had climbed up to him he smiled sardonically and said, ‘Is that your pitch? Well, really——!’ A small handhold had weathered away since the time of the first ascent, which somewhat simplified the passing over the ‘chock-stone,’ but even now I think most people would find it difficult. We could only apologise and feel small, but, had we known it, there was a surfeit of excitement and difficulty in store for us higher up.

The pitch we had just climbed was composed of most excellent rock, but up above, where we now were, everything was changed, and the upper rocks, which had been rotten enough before, were now, as a result of the heavy rain, of the worst description imaginable. Great pieces as large as one’s head came away at once, and every step had to be most carefully tested before we could proceed. Now was the time for us to appreciate our leader, for a less careful man would have ‘pounded’ us severely before we had made any progress worth mentioning. As it was, several big pieces had to be removed, and some came whizzing past in much too close proximity to be pleasant.

After the second pitch the chimney continues straight up and is fairly wide for two hundred feet or so; but there is no good anchorage until the level skyline is reached. Towards the top it narrows down to a thin, rotten and very steep crack. By slow and very careful progress we reached this crack, which had been climbed straight up on the first ascent; but after Jones had tried it a few times he evidently thought it hopeless, for he shouted down to us, ‘It won’t go to-day. The rain has made everything too rotten. We shall have to go back.’ It was four o’clock, raining heavily and nearly dark, and to go back meant in all probability sleeping on the top of the second pitch, an idea which none of us relished. So my brother climbed up to Jones and, after consulting for a while, they decided to climb out of the crack on the right-hand side. To do this a shoulder would have to be given, from a small shelving ledge, to enable the leader to reach the firmer and less steep rock up above. This was the most obvious route of ascent, but the ledge looked very unstable and rotten, and vibrated a little on being tested. However, Jones thought it might hold if stepped on in the right way; so my brother climbed up on to it and Jones followed. By utilising the side of the crack, they were able to put very little pressure on the ledge; Jones climbed on to his companion’s shoulders, and, when he had cleared away a few of the loose rocks, was, after an anxious moment or two, able to draw himself up on to the skyline and disappear from our sight. After a few seconds he gave a cheer and called to my brother to follow him. This he had just begun to do and had left the ledge about five feet, when I heard a dull ominous crack, and, on looking up, saw the whole thing coming down. There was no time to do anything but squeeze into the chimney and warn my father. I succeeded in getting far enough inside to escape serious damage, but the heel of my left boot, which projected a little, was torn entirely away. My father’s escape was more marvellous, for it seemed that nothing could save him; but on looking down I saw the great rock strike a projecting piece of the chimney only a few inches above his head, and spread out like a fan into a thousand splinters which shot far out into the air, falling again near the foot of the chimney; and thus we escaped with only a few slight bruises. One shudders to think what would have happened if the ledge had fallen when Jones and my brother were on it. It may be of interest to say here that during the whole of our climbs with Jones, this was the only approach to an accident we had, and under his leadership the possibility of anything going wrong seemed, and always was, very remote indeed.

After this we were not long in joining the other two at the top. By this time it was nearly dark and still raining heavily, and on the crest of the chimney we were faced by a bitterly cold wind. Jones, who had been exposed to this during the time we were ascending, was shaking with cold, and he shouted through the storm—‘Hurry up! Coil the rope and then we’ll do a sprint.’ On looking round we found that he had gone. We finished coiling the rope and hurried up to where he had been, but could not see him anywhere. We shouted again and again, but got no answer. After peering about and shouting several times we came to a standstill. ‘Is he subject to fits?’ inquired my father in a most doleful tone of voice. We had never heard of anything of the sort, so set off down the side of the crags in the hope of finding him awaiting us below. A miserable hour was spent in walking about the bottom of the crags calling his name; but the whistling of the wind in the rocks above, and the swishing of the rain were the only answers we got; so we set off down the fell-side, and, after floundering about in the dark, over the stone-walls and through the river, we found ourselves at last on the main road to Keswick. We were very anxious to know what had become of Jones, so hastened home, where we found him, ‘dressed up in all his best,’ toasting his feet in front of a comfortable fire. ‘Where have you been?’ ‘Dinner has been waiting an hour,’ and so on, were the thanks we got for our weary hunt among the crags for him, and the query of my father’s about his taking ‘fits’ became one of his favourite jokes. After proposing the ‘sprint’ to us he had run round a projecting shoulder of rock to leeward, and started off to Keswick over the moor, by the route we had taken earlier in the day. We had expected him to go down to the Shoulthwaite Valley, and in this way had missed him.

So finished one of the most exciting days we ever spent with Owen Glynne Jones; and its events are indelibly stamped on my memory. But, full of incident as the day had been, my pleasantest recollection is of the evening that followed; when, by the fire and over our pipes, we fought old battles over again, recalling to life happy days and exciting moments on the fells, ending with the songs and glees Jones loved so well to sing, and across the space of years, taking us back into the ‘dear, dead days,’ will come into our ‘mind’s eye’ the picture of him kneeling by the piano, singing with the keen enthusiasm which characterized everything he did, his favourite hymn—

Engineers’ Chimney, Gable Crag.—This new and interesting climb is situated about midway between the Oblique Chimney and the Central Gully. The beginning of it lies at nearly the same level as that of the Oblique Chimney, and can be reached by traversing some easy ledges from the ‘Sheep Walk,’ or by ascending directly from the foot of the Crags. Although the chimney was well known to many climbers, its ascent had, curiously enough, not been seriously attempted until July 30th, 1899, when Messrs. G. T. Glover and W. N. Ling made the first ascent. Since then it has been ascended on two other occasions, and it seems likely to become as popular as any of the Gable Crag climbs. The scenery is magnificent and the climbing throughout of a most interesting character, and in the centre of the lower part of the chimney a loosely wedged stone adds an element of risk and difficulty, which is absent from the other chimneys on this face. About eight feet from its commencement the chimney divides into two branches, but the route lies up the left-hand one. A good resting place for the second man is to be obtained in the right-hand branch, and he ought to stay here while the leader is negotiating the very difficult passage over the chock-stone. In all the ascents so far it has been found advisable to pass a rope behind and over this stone, to improvise a handhold, and even then this ten feet or so will be found quite difficult enough for most people. After this, another twenty-five feet of careful climbing brings one to a broad, sloping ledge where a rest can be taken. From here two routes are available. One is to keep to the chimney, which continues straight upward for about forty feet, and the other is to traverse out round the left-hand buttress for a few feet and then bear upwards, joining the ‘Sheep Walk’ near the top of the Crags. The former of these involves about twenty feet of fairly easy climbing, until the small cave, roofed over with the stone which dominates the chimney, is reached. From this cave the easiest method of ascent is to utilise a thin crack in the left wall into which some small stones are firmly jammed and which may be reached by wedging across the chimney and traversing outwards, a slight projecting ledge affording some help in the process. The ‘take-off’ into the crack is somewhat delicate and decidedly sensational on account of the scanty foothold, but once gained ten to twelve feet of further climbing practically finishes the chimney. The traverse route round the buttress is much easier, but it entirely evades the most sensational part of the climb.

West Wall Climb, Deep Ghyll.—For climbers of Deep Ghyll who ascend the second pitch by the right-hand exit, this new route is probably the best way out of the Ghyll. After thus passing the second pitch, the West Wall Climb starts from a point about twenty-six yards below the entrance to the Great Chimney. By climbing over two small ledges and up a conspicuous thirty-feet chimney, a broad ledge is reached, where further direct progress is not advisable.

The best way lies around a corner to the right and up a series of easy ledges, working gradually back again to above the commencement of the climb. About half-way up ‘The Wall’ an undercut pinnacle is reached and ascended on the left before a lodgment can be effected on its outside edge, and some enjoyable work follows until a spacious ledge on the right can be utilised. When Messrs. J. W. Robinson, J. H. Doncaster, and H. W. Blunt first made the ascent, in the September of 1898, this portion of the climb was considered difficult, and it is probably the only part where special care is necessary. Above this the climbing can be varied considerably, but the direct ascent of a rock ridge, straight ahead, is to be recommended. The course throughout is well within the powers of most climbing parties, and the magnificent views of Scawfell Pinnacle and Deep Ghyll add additional interest to the ascent.

We are indebted to two friends for the notes on the following climbs:—To Mr. G. T. Glover for those on the Ling Chimney, and to Mr. W. R. Reade for those on the West Jordan Gully.

The Ling Chimney, Eagle’s Nest Arête.—In the first edition of his book Mr. O. G. Jones mentions that there are two chimneys on the left-hand side of the Eagle’s Nest Arête, ‘the right of these is shallow and open ... whether it can be climbed or not I have never ascertained.’ On October 15th, 1899, Messrs. W. N. Ling, C. E. Martineau and G. T. Glover made the first recorded ascent of it, after a preliminary exploration from above. From the top of the small grass gully which commences the arête climb, one traverses about ten feet across some rock to the left, being then in a direct line below the final chimney. Going straight upwards, by steep rock steps, an upright slab is swarmed up with the hands and feet on each side, until a platform is reached, on which the second man can join the leader. About fifteen feet above this is another platform at the foot of a narrow chimney which needs careful climbing for about ten feet, until a foothold can be utilised on the sharp edge of the left wall.

From here some stiff pulls on the arms land one out either on a broad ledge above the easy gully route, or up a continuation of the chimney to the right-hand side of the narrow pinnacle at the finish of the true arête climb. The ascent, as a whole, requires more care than the gully route.

The West Jordan Gully, Pillar Rock.—This deeply cut gully, or, more correctly speaking, chimney, is a striking feature of the Western face of the Pillar Rock, and, together with the East Jordan Gully, the head of which it meets at Jordan Gap, cuts off the actual Pillar Rock from Pisgah. Probably many climbers have examined the West Jordan Gully, but it does not appear to have been seriously attacked before July, 1898, when Mr. W. P. McCulloch and the writer climbed it. Walking up the bed of the gully we passed a tempting looking crack on the North wall which ends in a small cave; above this cave the gully is ‘chocked’ by several overhanging stones which from below seem very formidable obstacles. We, however, avoided the crack and, mounting a series of jammed stones, reached the innermost recesses of the chimney. We were now almost on a level with the top of the crack, and, the gully being here narrow enough to brace firmly across, we backed upwards and outwards for about fifteen feet, reaching the cave without great exertion. So far we had done well, but still the great jammed stones, round which we had to pass, loomed black overhead. Holds for the traverse outward looked anything but satisfactory, so Mr. McCulloch, after passing the rope round a conveniently placed jammed stone, climbed on to my shoulders and, with considerable difficulty, dragged himself into a small cave about fifteen feet above. As this cave would only accommodate one man, I climbed to Mr. McCulloch’s level, with a little assistance from the rope, and took the lead. Traversing outwards for about fifteen feet, I climbed a sensational forty-feet chimney, which we had surveyed from above several days previously, and landed safely in the bed of the gully past all difficulties. The height of the whole pitch is slightly under 100 feet, and, from beginning to end, the climbing is of a most interesting character. The second ascent was made by the brothers Broadrick, in August of the same year, but there is no record of it having been climbed since.

APPENDIX II

CHAPTER I
THE PILLAR ROCK AND ITS PURLIEUS UP TO DATE

In conformity with its deserts as the grandest mass of crags in Lakeland, the Pillar Rock has, of recent years, received most attention from those in search of new routes and variations. So numerous and intertwined are some of the latter that it would be difficult to say by how many different ways the top of the famous rock can now be attained. There are certainly a score that possess the merit of individuality. However, though there is one important exception, that of the New West Climb, the old routes still monopolise the bulk of the traffic. With the development of the craft of rock-climbing the once popular, easy routes, such as the Old West Climb or the Pendlebury Traverse, have become less used than formerly. For a moderate party with an expert leader the North Climb is now the favourite course, though the ‘New West’ has become recognised as the finer climb. This recognition will, probably, in due course make the latter outrival in popularity its older compeer. But the ‘Slab and Notch,’ with the finish up the left wall of the Great Chimney, still takes most Pillarites to the goal of their ambition. In the other extreme stands the New North West Climb, and fortunately so. It is too difficult and dangerous to attract those climbers who truly realise that they have a life to lose. Famous experts—one of whom made the descent alone—declare the New North West Climb to be unjustifiable. For the descent of the Rock, especially after reaching the top by one of the longer climbs, the Central Jordan Crack is most generally used. Even under the worst conditions of storm, ice, or snow a rope looped around the top retaining wall of the crack allows downward escape to be made with comparative ease and safety.

The New West Climb.—Taken chronologically in this section, if for no other reason, this course demands first attention. Its outstanding features are sound, clean rocks, sensational situations with magnificent views, and secure belays at each section where they are really required. The climbing begins about 20 yards down the screes from the foot of the West Jordan Gully; the exact point is just below some large boulders which abut against the base of the main rock. Large hand- and footholds enable the steep lower rocks to be easily climbed, though at one point, about 60 feet above the start, there is a smooth place that gives trouble when ice is present. About 20 feet higher, a well-marked ledge leads to the right and out of the groove up which the climb has thus far run. Some turfy ledges then soon conduct the climber up to an impending nose of rock. After struggling up a short, steep pitch in the base of this, it becomes obvious that a traverse to the left is advisable. The place is vertical, but bulky and numerous holds enable the passage to be made in comfort. The traverse finishes abruptly on a steep buttress, with turf ledges at its foot. On the right a convenient crack provides means of upward progress for about 30 feet; then an all too short scramble up a steep arête gives access to two small ledges with accommodation for one climber only on each. The rocks directly ahead overhang threateningly, and a traverse to the left into the base of a steep chimney—the key to the climb—becomes advisable. This movement is sensational, but the handholds nowadays are ample for the swing across. Yet it is advisable to take the precaution to hitch the rope over the splendid belay at the beginning of the traverse, especially if the conditions are adverse. Once across this section, a large chock-stone in the foot of the chimney can be utilised as anchorage whilst the leader moves upwards. The upper part of this 30 foot chimney is probably the most awkward part of the whole climb. If the back be kept on the left wall throughout, numerous small, but sufficient, excrescences can be found on the confronting side of the chimney. It would seem advisable to keep as much as possible in the narrow cleft.

A secure resting-place, with room for three or more climbers, is shortly gained, and the chimney, which becomes loose and repulsive-looking higher up, should now be deserted in favour of an interesting traverse to the right. The passage around the vertical corner is impressive, but careful use of the feet prevents the awkward attitudes so often seen here. The movement across the face to the right is still continued over capacious ledges in a slightly upward direction to some prominent shattered rocks. Good anchorage is available here. The final section begins above the shattered rocks, and lies up a small, shallow crack which closes in about 15 feet higher and necessitates a delicate step across a smooth slab on the right. A well-marked, grassy recess is thus eventually gained. The ascent finishes up this, and emerges within a few feet of the summit of the Pillar Rock.

Savage Gully.—The direct ascent of this great rift, the aspect of which is familiar to all who visit the Rock by way of the North Climb, is too risky and dangerous to deserve serious attention from rock-climbers. Yet from a historical and topographical point of view the description of the first ascent by Mr. P. A. Thompson may prove of interest. Though this indefatigable pioneer was finally safeguarded by tying on a rope lowered from near the ‘Nose,’ the party who made the second ascent—Messrs. Barton—conceded the honour of precedence to Mr. Thompson, saying that the rope thus held could not be considered any aid. On the lower 110 feet, resting-places have since been found, and at no point is it necessary for the leader to take out more than 60 feet of rope. Under the date June 3, 1909, Mr. Thompson wrote:—

‘Savage Gully was climbed right through by me to-day after I had examined the route, held from the top of the Nose by Mr. L. J. Oppenheimer. The almost vertical portion immediately beyond the point where the ordinary North Climb diverges is by far the hardest part of the climb. The leader must run out 110 feet of rope, and there are no hitches or convenient resting-places on the way. The gully is divided by a narrow rib of rock, between which and the right-hand wall the climb starts. The first 25 feet present no great difficulty, but beyond this point the climbing becomes severe. Backing up does not appear to be possible, and the holds lie sometimes on the right and sometimes on the left of the rib, which was crossed in all five times. These crossings were always sensational, and, one from right to left, about half-way up, was greasy. At the top of the pitch a platform was reached, and an excellent holding ground found in a small cave between the continuation of the rib and the left-hand wall of the gully. Here I sent my boots down, and unroping, waited while Mr. Oppenheimer climbed by the ordinary route to the top of the crack leading down into Savage Gully, from which point he threw down a rope. With a second man in the cave to give a shoulder the best route would probably lie directly up the crack on the left of the rib, but this was too difficult to try alone. On the right the gully was comparatively easy for some distance, and climbing up for 30 feet I reached the rope and tied on. This branch of the gully then became too steep and narrow to follow, and another traverse had to be made across the rib, here expanded to a considerable buttress, on a shelving ledge, wide enough to kneel on, and with small handholds. This traverse is the only serious difficulty in the upper part of the climb. The moral support of the rope was inconsiderable, as 10 feet of slack had to be taken in before the traverse could be made. On reaching the left-hand branch of the gully 30 feet more of climbing up slabs which, in stockinged feet, proved easy led to the foot of the crack. The final steep little chimney was wet, but otherwise not very difficult. Mr. Oppenheimer came up over the Nose, rejoining me in two hours after the start from the foot of the gully.’

The New North West Climb.—This exceptionally severe course was first climbed on the 8th of June 1906 by Messrs. F. W. Botterill, L. J. Oppenheimer, A. Botterill, and Dr. J. H. Taylor. It is only suitable for experts, who, moreover, would be well advised to come to it in perfect form after a lengthy climbing holiday. Success depends on the skill of the leader. He can receive scanty support from his companions at the places where such aid is really required. Absence of a dependable belay for the long lead up the difficult upper section of the face militates against any claim for safety the expedition may be said to possess.

The course starts from the westerly end of the Green Ledge. This is marked g on Mr. Jones’ line drawing facing p. 254. By a curious error he named it the Nose. The rocks are comparatively easy at the outset; some short chimneys lead up to a sloping slab, where a traverse to the left is made into a more obvious chimney. This gives about 45 feet of interesting back and knee work until it is possible to work out to the right, and then up easy rocks to the crest of the buttress, where stands a prominent cairn. Broad, grass-covered slabs lead to the base of the nose of the Low Man, where the real difficulties begin.

The route at first bears away to the west up some slabs, and then returns around a corner to a good ledge several yards long, whereon stands a prominent cairn. Anchorage is available at this point. The ledge is traversed to its extreme easterly end, and, after rounding a projecting rock, an ascent of about 10 feet allows a V shaped recess to be gained. This has been called ‘Le Coin.’ Above this important stance there are three distinct ledges to be gained. The first of these entails about 15 feet of difficult ascent from ‘Le Coin’; probably the best way lies up the right wall. The first ledge possesses a sound belay, and the second is recognizable by a larger belay, which is cracked, but safe at present. A party of three might foregather here. An ascent of quite 35 feet then leads to a ‘triangular’ ledge, possessing practically no dependable belay. The key to further progress here is the negotiation of a sensational stride around a corner to the left and thus into an open, exposed chimney nearly 50 feet high. Above this there is a difficult and risky traverse back to the right, mostly on a small, grassy ledge. A broad recess slightly higher soon gives ample resting space. From the second ledge above ‘Le Coin,’ whereon stands the ‘cracked belay,’ to this point entails a lead out for the first man of about 90 feet. The difficulty and danger of this section will undoubtedly militate against the North-West Climb ever becoming ‘an easy day for a lady.’ The ascent to the crest of the Low Man is made up a conspicuous cleft, Oppenheimer’s chimney, which is reached after crossing some broken rocks to the right. Two projecting chock-stones facilitate the ascent.