Wastwater and Great Gable
the drowning man burst into laughter and climbed over the side of the boat. He was an excellent swimmer and the whole business was just a prank to get even with Auld Will!
There were merry times at Wastdale in those days, and although the old figures have departed, their place is nowadays taken by another and vastly increased generation of mountain lovers. These are the rock climbers and mountaineers, whose Mecca is the Wastwater Hotel. At Christmas, Easter and other holiday times, the valley is full to overflowing, and climbing enthusiasts, who include ’Varsity Dons, Members of Parliament and distinguished Barristers, are glad to get accommodation on the billiard table, in the bath room, or even in the barn. Early in the morning, they set out with ropes intent upon their various climbs, Scawfell Pinnacle, the famous Pillar Rock or the Needle on Great Gable.
A very favourite climb is this latter, short but exceedingly difficult and only for those of long experience. The way lies up the crack seen in the illustration and it is climbed by wedging the knee in this crack, whilst the hands grasp its rough edges above one’s head. The leader, who should be an uncommonly good cragsman, attaches the rope round his waist and when he has attained the top of the crack, rests there and takes in the rope as the next climber ascends. It is just kept taut so that in case of a slip the second man comes to no harm. When he has joined his leader, the latter climbs a stage higher to the next platform, and the performance is repeated. Then comes the crux of the climb. The top boulder overhangs considerably on one side, and the way lies up the almost vertical right-hand outline seen in the photograph. The hand- and footholds are very small, the situation is most exposed and it demands not only great gymnastic skill, but a perfectly cool and daring nerve to lead up this last bit. Once there the leader sits down—the top is about a yard square and by no means level—and takes in his companion’s rope. The descent can be made by reversing this route or by a more exposed ridge on the other side.
I recall a very unpleasant experience of my own on the Needle. It was on the bitterly cold Christmas day of 1897, that a party of three of us climbed to its apex. We had no sooner arrived there than it came on to rain and as the rain fell it froze immediately on the rock; the Needle became almost like a huge inverted icicle. I essayed the descent, but the small handholds near the top were veneered with ice. It was quite impossible, so, with great difficulty, I regained my companions on the top. By this time a driving wind had sprung up and it behoved us to descend at once, or else be frozen and then blown off. It was an unpleasant dilemma, but we got out of it in the following manner. The strongest man of the party lowered first one and then the other of us, swinging round and round on the rope end like a spider at the end of its clew, until we reached the neck between the Needle and the mountain, seen in the illustration. Then the last man tied his rope round the top of the rock and came down hand over hand for about twenty feet, when off slipped the rope from the top and he came tumbling down on to us. Fortunately he retained his grasp of the rope and, as we were tied to the other end, we were able to arrest his fall before he had gone far. Beyond a severe shaking he was no worse, and this, with a bruised shoulder where his boot struck me as his body flew through the air, was all the damage sustained in our escapade.
For those whose ideas of exercise lie in a milder direction, the walk up Great Gable or Scawfell Pike, the highest English mountain, will suggest itself. The views from these summits are magnificent in every direction and embrace the wild fastnesses of the Pillar, the silvery light over the sea, where the Isle of Man glimmers in the
