Rock-climbing in the English Lake District / Third Edition

by Owen Glynne Jones

Walker’s Gully, Pillar Rock.—The Christmas of 1898 at Wastdale was marked by heavy rain and unseasonable conditions. Several large parties of climbers had come to the hotel, and, after a day or two of smoking and grumbling, had departed; until, at the New Year, Mr. Jones and myself were the only climbers left there. To keep ourselves in training, we struggled up through the powdery snow of the Central Gully on Gable Crag, performed many rash feats on the end of the barn and the billiard-table, besides leaving a considerable quantity of our clothing on the ‘Mosedale Boulder.’

Early in January we walked over to Keswick; and found, on returning, that another party had arrived, amongst whom was my friend Mr. A. E. Field. We greeted him as warmly as we could under such cold conditions; and when, later in the evening, we disclosed our intention to climb Walker’s Gully, he was quite ‘keen’ on undertaking the very necessary duties of ‘third man.’ Our party was now complete; but the heavy rain-clouds still rolled up from the sea, and the weather continued persistently bad. We were forced at last to the conclusion that, if Walker’s Gully had then to be climbed, it would have to be done regardless of bad weather and personal discomfort.

As a result of this reasoning, the early morning of January 7th, 1899, saw the three of us trudging patiently up the Black Sail Pass in a tremendous downpour of rain and sleet; but, notwithstanding this, with the climber’s cheery optimism, a ‘fair-up’ was confidently prophesied. As an exception to the general rule, our prophecy was fulfilled; for, just as we reached the soft snow on Looking Stead, the huge banks of mist rolled up from both valleys, and far away in the north we saw ‘hoary-headed old Skiddaw’ bathed in sunshine, while a keen dry wind blew up out of Ennerdale. We trudged along through the snow on the High Level, and about mid-day were facing the ice-covered slabs and snow-wreathed ledges on the north-east side of the Pillar Rock. Little was said as we scrambled to the foot of Walker’s Gully; for each of us fully recognised what was ahead, and it was better to be silent, than to utter discouraging remarks.

The rope was put on at the foot of the crags, Field being the ‘anchor’ of the party, whilst I, as usual, was placed next to Jones, to serve as a special buttress when hand and foot holds should become scarce. A strong jet of ice-cold water came rushing down over the first pitch, so that, not wishing to have our enthusiasm cooled so early in the day, we climbed up the wet, slippery slabs on our left. About fifty feet higher we had some difficulty in a shallow sloping chimney, down which a mud avalanche seemed to have fallen quite recently, and here our leader remarked ‘we ought to have been equipped with mud-guards.’ We were soon facing the main gully, with its tremendous chock-stones rising one above the other, over which streamed large quantities of water, suggesting a somewhat too rapid cleansing of our mud-stained garments. We entered the chimney and found it just wide enough to back up, with both feet on the right-hand wall; the falling ice-chips apprising us of the fact that hard work was in progress higher up.

We climbed very rapidly for about fifty feet, close together, until almost within touch of the uninviting stream of water falling over the first jammed boulder, which was now just above our heads. Knowing this to be one of the most difficult pitches in the lower part of the climb, a short ‘council of war’ was held, for all seemed desirous of avoiding a cold bath as long as possible. Then, screwing up his courage, Jones made a bold dash through the waterfall to the back of the cave. Knowing his objection to monopolising pleasures of this kind, we followed him, and were soon all gasping and shivering below the jammed boulder. After further consideration and experiment, the only safe course, apparently, was for me to stand under the waterfall and give the leader a shoulder over the mauvais pas. As our ablutions seemed likely now to be very thorough, we ate our lunch and watched, for a time, the falling water, which, in my opinion, to some extent spoilt the view. The discomfort of our position, however, soon impressed upon us the necessity of moving. Field therefore held me firmly from the back of the cave, whilst I stood under the shower-bath; and Jones mounted on my shoulders, from whence he reached a hold on the top of the boulder, over which he pulled himself with an exclamation of delight. I then retired to the cave with considerable alacrity. Sounds from above warned us that the leader was scarcely yet secure, so we steadily paid out about forty feet of his rope, until he reached safe anchorage at the top of the three boulders forming the pitch. In following we wasted very little time under the waterfall, and soon joined Jones on a little snow-patch, from which we could study the situation. A hundred feet or so higher, and apparently overhanging our present position, was the top jammed boulder. Evidence was not wanting, however, to show us that we were not safe from falling objects; for, stuck in a curiously upright position in the snow in front of us, were three walking-sticks, with two pairs of torn gloves and some much-worn socks lying by their side. We thought at first a party of tourists had somehow reached here and forgotten their ‘impedimenta;’ but our leader remembered that some friends, having climbed the Pillar Rock at Christmas, had thrown their sticks and luggage down into Jordan Gap before descending themselves. The snow proved harder than they thought, their property making an unexpected descent into Walker’s Gully, and here were we confronted with the opportunity of acting as a rescue party; but, not thirsting for fame, we decided to leave the relics undisturbed.

Jones now led us up several small, wet pitches, until we came to a sudden stop in a great cave, where there was no apparent way out, except through a very small hole high up in its roof; an outside route being practically impossible on account of the accumulation of ice on both walls. Jones remarked that he was not going ‘to emulate the camel that failed to go through the eye of a needle;’ so, to reduce his bulk as far as possible, he emptied his pockets and left his wet jacket for Field to sit upon. No holds on the side of the cave were available, so the leader climbed upon my shoulders, but he could barely reach his arms through the hole. Field, meanwhile, was smoking and making the most of his comfortable position. With somewhat insincere apologies, we called on him to form an additional buttress, and, from his shoulders, I was able to force the leader through the hole, amidst the sound of tearing clothes and muffled remonstrances from their owner.

I shall not readily forget my own sufferings in that hole. The first attempt, from Field’s shoulders, was a complete failure, because the upper part of my body absolutely refused to fit the shape of the hole. After several fruitless efforts and much wasted energy, I happened to look up and saw Jones smiling down at me. “That is not right. Go down and have another try,” said he. He then loosed the rope rather suddenly, whereupon I made an unexpected descent upon Field, who was standing below enjoying my troubles; and there was much confusion in the cave. After extricating ourselves, Field again kindly placed his shoulders at my service, but from a somewhat higher level than before, and this, with the aid of his ice-axe applied from below, ultimately landed me at the top of the hole feeling very roughly handled. Field then sent up our jackets, and, after the hole had been slightly enlarged by removing some loose rocks, he came up himself in good style.

We were now at the foot of the formidable top-pitch, which had never been climbed. A sudden seriousness settled on us all as we looked up at it, and remembered that this pitch had defied some of the finest cragsmen of our time. The walls on both sides were perpendicular, and the rounded appearance of the rocks suggested an unusual absence of hand and foot holds, whilst the presence of ice in several places caused us much uneasiness. There were three large flat chock-stones piled irregularly right across the chasm. Towards the upper one, which overhung considerably, the two walls converged so much that it seemed possible to ‘back up’ the last part of the climb, if the leader could only reach it safely. The only other alternative would be to climb up on the right wall, close under the lower chock-stone, and traverse outwards and upwards until suitable holds could be found. A troublesome sleet was beginning to fall; so that we were glad to climb into the cave directly beneath the chock-stones. A firm ‘hitch’ was discovered in the back of the cave, by which Field could anchor us; and he settled himself in a wet corner where his attention was occupied in dodging the drops of falling water and directing our movements.

Our first efforts were on the left wall; and by means of an ice-axe fixed in a narrow corner, Jones skilfully and safely wedged himself in a crack which led almost to the top of the first boulder. However, for the next half-hour his attempts to make further progress were in vain, for a hand could not be spared to chip the ice off the rocks; and it was found necessary to abandon this left wall and to try the opposite one, which now occupied our attention for some time. Jones made several attempts from a shoulder to effect a lodgment below the chock-stone. Then, whilst enjoying a well-earned rest, we espied a small rock, wedged high up in the crack between the main wall and the roof of the cave. That small rock proved to be the key of the situation, for, after probably the finest piece of climbing I have ever witnessed, a rope was passed through the hole behind it, and we were in a position to attempt the climb safely. We were all suffering acutely from cold, especially Field, on account of his inaction, though he declared that the excitement of our movements kept him warm. Notwithstanding this, our leader, taking off his boots and jacket, prepared for a long struggle on that icy wall, whilst I padded my head to gain an inch or two in height. Jones now swung up as high as possible on the hitched rope; then, while standing on my head, he found a very small hold for one of his toes, and after ascending a few feet was hidden from our sight by the intervening chock-stone. The next few minutes were anxious ones; we shivered with cold, and held the rope firmly in case there should be a mishap higher up. Almost immediately there was a rush of falling snow far out over the pitch, and it scarcely needed our leader’s jödel of success to assure us that at last Walker’s Gully had yielded to the onslaught of the climber.