Rock-climbing in the English Lake District / Third Edition

by Owen Glynne Jones

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.