Rock-climbing in the English Lake District / Third Edition

by Owen Glynne Jones

Oblique Chimney.—From a few notes added to a sketch of the known routes up the Ennerdale face, which Mr. John Robinson inserted in the Wastdale Climbing Book, April, 1890, I derived my first impressions of the Oblique Chimney: ‘This has, I believe, not yet been climbed and is not very safe, owing to the jammed stones in it being loose, and the clean-cut walls on each side making these stones of consequence.’ This description was realistic though brief, but I thought little of the place till the Christmas vacation of 1892-3, when I learnt that Mr. R. C. Gilson had proposed to attack the chimney one fine day, but was forestalled by Dr. Collier’s party. These latter took the precautionary measure of partly descending the chimney, so as to clear away the débris and loose stones that hovered over the edge of each pitch; they then returned to the foot of the chimney and forced a way directly up to the top. The important jammed stones required for the middle portion were quite firm enough for safe holding, and the party returned with a fuller praise of the beauties of the chimney than any one had anticipated. I was given an account of the expedition a day or two later, and was glad enough to get the opportunity of trying conclusions with the crags on that side of Gable, which till then was unexplored country for me.

My companion that Christmas was a learned classic, weary of brain work, whom I had induced to take a little climbing in Cumberland as a tonic. Some people cannot take quinine, others apparently cannot benefit by rock-climbing. This latter I found to be the case with my friend, whose struggle with the confracti rudera mundi made him despondent instead of inducing a healthy exhilaration. The sore limbs and torn clothing he never seemed able to forget, far less to enjoy. Yet the ruling passion of phrase-making was strong even in extremis, and he longed to put his sufferings into words. Sometimes on the rocks I might casually turn to see that he was coming up well. His eyes would be gazing at nothing and his lips moving as if in prayer. But it was not prayer, it was a Greek or Latin quotation, preferably the former because of its rich vocabulary for description of scenery. On the whole he was enjoying the new experiences hugely in his own melancholy way, and I felt no compunction in insisting on his joining K. and A. when we planned our excursion up Gable by way of the Oblique Chimney. The day was rather cloudy and snow threatened, but we took plenty of provisions, and K. carried a pocket compass. We started somewhat late in the morning, and walked leisurely up Gavel Neese and round the Beckhead by way of Moses’ Sledgate. But on reaching the wire fence we found that the mist completely enveloped the Gable crags and gave us no chance of identifying our climb from below. Then we skirted along the base in the vain hope of a momentary disclosure of the chimney by a parting of the mist, but no such chance offered, and we reached Stony Gully without making a start up. Here we saw the ‘rake’ or traverse that has been described as passing along the face about two-thirds of the way up. It was an obvious course to take, inasmuch as it led to within a few feet of the foot of the Oblique Chimney—so near that even the dense mist could scarcely prevent our striking it. Here the classic assured us that he would much prefer ascending by Stony Gully to the top of Gable, and that it would give him extreme pleasure to carry our lunch up to the cairn and wait for us there. We let him go, and promised that we should join him again by three o’clock in the afternoon. Thus did we lose our lunch, not to find it again for another week. There was much ice and fresh snow plastering the rocks, and the so-called ‘easy’ traverse wanted all our care. K. was an expert Alpine climber, his friend A. a plucky young Harrovian with plenty of nerve and endurance in him, but at that time with next to nothing in the way of experience of the mountains. He came along well enough, but our pace was necessarily very slow. Three o’clock found us still working westwards on the traverse, but without a sight of the Oblique Chimney. I think in one place we must have descended too much. At any rate, we found ourselves in difficulties on a sloping slab of glazed rock that gave me serious pause. A. slipped on this, and started slithering away rapidly. Luckily he held his axe tightly, and was brought up by the rope with a jerk. Shortly after this, he pointed to some blood on the rocks, and solicitously asked me whether I had cut myself very badly. It turned out, after a hasty glance at my hands, that he himself was the wounded one. My little complaint was a slight frostbite in the finger-tips, my gloves having been worn threadbare by much scraping with the hands.

At last we reached a pinnacle that promised us variety. We tried to climb up it by the outside edge, but found the ice too troublesome. Then, when resting on the shoulder half way up, we saw a deep and narrow cavern in the mountain wall behind the pinnacle. Surely that must be the object of our quest and our pinnacle the redoubtable ‘bottle-shaped.’ Eagerly we scrambled over the shoulder and down a slight gully on to the scree that issues from the mouth of the cavern. It was getting dark, and we were very hungry. My jacket pocket still held the crumbs of a pulverized biscuit that I had taken up Snowdon the week before. These and a fragment of chocolate we scrupulously shared, and then began the attack in earnest. The conditions had much changed since Dr. Collier had effected his ascent, and though the gully overhangs too much to permit any drift snow to settle in it, the smooth walls of the gully were black and shiny with ice, and the damp cold of this dark hole tried our endurance to the utmost. It must be admitted that my ascent of the first part was slow and ungraceful. I had started with my back resting against the left wall, bracing my feet as firmly as the ice would permit against the diminutive knobs on the opposite side. Now in this position the back cannot be worked up an overhanging wall unless the hands have something definite to thrust against. The process went on fairly well for about twenty-five feet, working outwards as well as upwards, but then the two sides of the chimney became perilously far apart and the smooth left wall commenced to overhang.

Then ensued a few moments of awkward suspense, an uncertainty as to the best method of transferring one’s weight to certain small ledges against which the feet were now pressing.

The process of ‘backing up’ is excessively fatiguing, the thrust necessary to hold oneself firmly in situ being as a rule much greater than the equivalent of one’s weight, and the whole of this thrust being at every slight lift transmitted through the arms. He who fails to realize the attitude I am describing may easily perform an experiment that illustrates the mechanical principles involved, by sitting down across a doorway or narrow passage, and attempting to work upwards by pressure of the feet against one side and back against the other. If, when some three feet from the ground, he waits a minute or two and then attempts to move again, either up or down, he will perceive that the simple holding in place has tired his muscles and made advance or retreat equally difficult.

Our doorway had already extended up for twenty-five feet and yet another five remained before a comfortable halting-place could be reached. The cleft forming the chimney was so much undercut that the view vertically downwards included the scree some distance below the entrance to the cavern, and anything that I might have let fall, myself for instance, would have dropped some feet further out than the two men waiting below. The halt was a mistake; there was only one course open, and that should have been taken at first. It was to work inwards until the doubtful jammed stones could be reached with the left hand, and then, trusting mainly to the footholds, hoist the body over to that side of the gully and thrust the hand into the recesses between the stones. K. shouted up some suggestion to this effect from below. How he managed to discern the proper place through the dim twilight I never was able to ascertain. But I resolved to try it, and in some strange way the cramped muscles that had appeared incapable of further effort were in a second or two relieved by the change of attitude, and the pull over to the right side that I had dreaded as the severest tax on my strength proved to be easy enough. With fists in two convenient little holes clenched to prevent the hands slipping out, I was able to take a momentary survey of the slightly rickety ladder of jammed stones that led to safety. The passage of these few feet was not at all pleasant. Had ours been the first climb of the chimney we might have reasonably decided to brave the perils of descent and return again by daylight, rather than fumble about in the dusk pawing at wabbly boulders that threatened to fall out with us at even a caress, much more promptly at a cross word.

But the knowledge that others had tried them, and had learnt the futility of these threats, gave me some degree of courage, and, taking heart of grace, I, walked up the ladder and out of the first great difficulty. A. came up next, and as the hour was late and we were all a little anxious to finish, he did not scorn to use the rope at the bad corner just below the ladder. K. came up remarkably well, and I felt that if he had led us we should have mastered the pitch earlier.

We were now able to walk towards the roof of the upper portion of the gully, which was as completely closed in as the cave below. The left wall everywhere overhung so much that there was no chance of climbing out by its aid. The right wall was nearly parallel to the left and showed a few more possibilities.

Looking backwards we could see the two walls projecting several yards out, apparently a little nearer together at their extreme edges than they were in our upper chamber, which was now much too wide for any opportunity of backing up. But we knew that the second pitch was not so bad as the first, and started prospecting. I crept up as high into the cave as possible, and then felt round the edge of the roof for a firm hold. This came to hand almost at once, and with a step out on to the sloping wall, and probably a steadying hand from below, I worked up between the roof-stone and the right side. This led to a steep little snow-slope, evidently covering loose stones that might prove excitable in dry weather, and thence a few yards of broken rock extended to the summit of the crags.