Rock-climbing in the English Lake District / Third Edition

by Owen Glynne Jones

We followed our watercourse right up to its beginning close to a little pass over towards Langstrath. In general appearance it somewhat resembled Piers Ghyll, with its slight gradient and short pitches, its rotten walls and unavoidable water. But in respect to the last consideration we were almost exempted from a wetting, for the ghyll was nearly dry, and only in the direct ascent of one pitch did we run any risk of a drenching. No doubt the normal state of the gully is very much worse than we found it.

With hazy impression of a hundred-feet pitch we came provided with two eighty-feet lengths of rope, but managed our climb with one only. The first pitch was about fifteen feet high; the left wall was feasible, the direct climb involved the passage through a dripping cave and out by a hole in the roof, and the right side of the gully was of steep grass and insecure rock. We took to the latter, and with care managed the ascent without dislodging much that might help later climbers. Above this we had a view of a waterfall about fifty or sixty yards further up, and inasmuch as the rocks showed signs of nailed boots we were for some time prevailed upon to believe that we had really found our quest.

The bed of the stream was rough but easy for a while. Two small pitches about six feet high scarcely gave us pause before we reached the foot of the waterfall that we had seen from the first pitch. It was about twelve yards high; the walls were four or five feet apart, and glistening with the wet. They did not appear to offer very excellent holds, but I found it possible to face the fall and utilize as footholds sundry diminutive ledges on either side. It was a case of spanning the gully and walking up. About twenty feet from the bottom the holds on the left wall were somewhat greasy, but a yard higher the ledges on the right had so much improved that it was a safe venture to pull over to that side and effect a traverse to the top of the double obstacle over which the water was falling. While the others were rapidly following, we were surprised to hear voices from above. I advanced a little, and discovered two young men perched precariously on the face of the steep wall to the right. Almost at the same moment a large stone fell from their feet towards us, and, in an ecstasy of fear lest they should bombard our last man, who was yet in difficulties bestriding the gully below, we shouted to them to stay still a bit and wait for us to advance to a place of safety. Then with all speed we clambered up to them, and let them down on the rope into the gully again. They were distinctly in peril; that side of the ghyll was as treacherous, with its loose splinters of rock and steep unreliable grass, as it could manage to be without falling by its own weight. The top was slightly overhanging, and could bear no extra pulling. The men were inexperienced; one of them had no nails in his boots; they had walking-sticks tied tightly to their wrists with string, and when we reached them they were tired out with the physical and mental strain. We reflected on our wonderful good fortune in choosing this gully, and thought with some bitterness that this was the way that the noblest of sports acquired its notoriety for great danger. It transpired that they had scrambled down into the gully at the side of the waterfall that we had just climbed, and saw no means of getting out of the hole excepting by this loose wall.

We were now at the foot of a small pitch about twenty-five feet high. It was divided by a vertical buttress, and the water was flowing down to the left. The right-hand side seemed rather insecure, so I climbed some thirty feet up the wall of the gully again, and the second man clambered up the right-hand recess, confident in the support of the rope if his foothold gave way. He then traversed easily to the top of the pitch, and drew in my rope as I descended to his level and followed him. We asked the last man how were the passengers to be conveyed up the pitch. He replied, with perhaps just a touch of malice, that the direct passage through the water was the shortest, quickest, and cheapest route to the top, and we at the summit were of the same mind. Then our tourists were tied separately to the rope, and hauled up through the fall. It was very uncomfortable for them, but we got as wet ourselves later on. We hoped that their bedraggled condition would prompt them to a speedy descent and a relinquishment, for that day at least, of the joys of crag-climbing. That pitch was the last in the gully of any magnitude, and our friends were able to walk out easily on to the open fell and so down to Borrowdale. We ourselves gave one last look around for the hundred-feet fall that was to finish Combe Ghyll, and then, finding it not, we bore rapidly westwards across the mountain in search of the genuine article.

PLATE VIII.

PILLAR ROCK, EAST SIDE (p. 257).

About 200 feet of Rock are shown.

a Left Pisgah Route.
b East Pisgah Chimney.
c Right Pisgah Route.
d Start of Slab and Notch Route.
e The Slab.
f The Notch.
g The Ledge.
h Pendlebury Traverse.
k The Curtain.
A High Man.
B Pisgah.
C Low Man.
D Jordan.
E East Jordan Gully.
F Great Chimney.
G Savage Gully.

As we skirted the foot of the crags we passed two small gullies that rose steeply above us, and that for a moment made us stop to consider their qualifications. In twenty minutes from the top of Combe Ghyll we came to the first deep and well marked watercourse. It was our Raven Crag Gully, and when we peered up into its dark recesses we felt that good sport was at last before us. We finished the remnants of our lunch and drank a little water. It was not a tempting beverage, for the rocks just above were covered with objectionable vegetation, and the supply was so much below the average that the pools seemed almost stagnant. Also, I was haunted with the recollection of a dead sheep that we had passed in the other gully, lying on a ledge close to the stream. Mountain water is not always free from microbes, especially in those craggy regions where sheep come to grief.