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.