© J A D Healey 2014
I caught the 7.16 train to Waterloo, feeling very cheerful, as Wyn's last letter said that she was coming on Saturday morning instead of the evening. From Waterloo I made my way to Cartwright Gardens and had a few hours chatting to Betty – and eating the plums she peeled for me.
Soon after 10 (I was surprised how the time had flown), I went to Euston, and, after seeing Mr. Gibbs, found a carriage containing only three. I was knitting till after midnight, and by the time I wanted to settle down, the sailor on my seat was sound asleep, and taking up all the rest of the room, so I looked at the floor - remembering Stella's advice – but it looked so hard, and then I noticed that one of the racks was empty, so I got up there. I soon got down again and put on all my spare woollies and still I was none too warm, but I dozed a fair amount. I had the carriage to myself after Preston, but I was wide awake by then, wondering whether the pink sky was a bad sign.
I arrived in Windermere at 7.45 or so, but there were several taxis waiting, and I got to Ambleside in plenty of time to catch the bus. It was a lovely day – it was grand to get that first view of the hills again, but at the D.G. I missed Ellen and Wyn meeting me. There was no-one I knew among the departing guests.
After breakfast I walked down to the bus with the next lot of guests who were leaving, hoping to meet Wyn on the way, but there was no sign of her, so I came back and thought about going for a walk; fortunately she arrived before I set out. I borrowed a rope from the farm and put it in our hut (Kettlebeck) – Miss Smith must have known for she stayed talking outside till we told her where we were going.
We went to Middle Fell where Wyn gave me a rope down for the first pitch – what a struggle and I thought never again would I start a holiday with it. We enjoyed the rest of the buttress and then went along to Scout and started at the 50 ft climbs below. Wyn gave me a rope down for the harder one, and then we went up route I. Returning through Milbeck Farm, we were glad to see that they had got all their hay in, for as we had gone through it in the morning it was starting to rain and we had rather guilty consciences about not helping them.
We were back in time for tea, and noticed that there was no parcel for me. We were not surprised, knowing Rhys (we thought) we were sure that the rope would be so inadequately wrapped that it would be lost in the post. Presently, Miss Smith came in and asked me if I was expecting a parcel. I said yes and Miss Smith produced a great biscuit tin, sent by registered post and told us to guess who it was from, she then rattled it and said she was coming to our hut that night (it sounded just like apples), so we had a good laugh when we opened it and showed the rope.
During the evening we learned that two were going to have early breakfast the next day, and while we were wondering how to ask for the same, Mrs. Mac came across and asked us whether we would like sandwiches and an early breakfast the next, and we said yes, if it was fine.
It had been raining in the night, so at 7.30 I just looked in the common room to ask Mrs. Mac. whether we were expected for early breakfast. She said no, it was too wet and, she added, that had it been fine enough she would have woken us before that with a CUP OF TEA! I thought what it is to have Wyn up for the weekend, and felt what an inadequate staff I had been. I got back to bed again, and soon Eric put his head in the window, and we envied him and Peter who had not been put off by the weather.
After an ordinary breakfast we set off about 10, taking our rope towards Scawfell. We went 'my' route to Mickledore, but Wyn decided she wasn't a 'strong walker'. We got to the top of the ridge by about 1 and found that the far side was the most sheltered this time, so we had our lunch there; we didn't need to eat the 'meat' sandwiches, the tomato ones were made most delicious with our sardines, and the sweet ones were greatly improved by Wyn's dates.
We watched a party go up Lords Rake, and hoped we would find a much more interesting way – we wanted to try Slingsby's, although we were a bit doubtful about the 'crevace' – but what a hope. It started to rain before we had finished our lunch and then the mist came down, so our best plan seemed to be to go straight back for tea, so we set off over the Pike. At one point I was afraid we were going over Great End, but I needn't have worried on that path. Just as were getting down to Esk House, the mist started to lift – or we got down out of it. It was marvellous – our first glimpse towards Derwentwater, almost in the sun, and then it cleared Windermere way. Fortunately, two people we passed along Mickleden weren't in the least interested in me, or I should have wanted to explain that we hadn't used our rope (except to sit on).
After tea we set out for a walk; we had intended to go to the Dungeon Gill Falls, but some of the others had been there in the morning, so we went to Stool End, and then on to the stepping stones. I took off my sandals and paddled across, and was pleased that most of the others did the same. I had been talking to Iris and found she was mad to begin climbing, that she and Eric had been very disappointed that there had been no climbers their first week etc., so I suggested that they came with me the next day. We went along as far as the New D.G. where I called and saw Helen and Margaret.
After supper I went down to the farm and saw everyone, and then went back for the end of the brains trust, but I hadn't missed much.
I slept that night in Tarn House. There was a spare bed in there and Wyn didn't want to go there for she thought she would wake up the others when she got up at 4.15, instead of only Peggy, in Kettlebeck. I slept on till about 7 so I didn't realise what a nightmare ride Wyn was having in the dark and rain to Windermere.
It wasn't a very nice day, but Iris and Eric were still full of enthusiasm, so we set off for Middle Fell, and roped up at the foot of the second pitch; soon Maurice appeared, scrambling up the gully to meet some others at the top, so he joined on the end. Fortunately, they were all very good, for the 100 ft of rope was most inadequate. I was glad of the last pitch, for they had all just run up the rest. Iris was especially good in her clinker-less boots. It was cold and starting to rain when we had finished it, but we got warm going up to Stickle Tarn, where we had lunch in as sheltered a spot as we could find, but it was raining quite hard by the time we had finished. We warmed up a bit again, walking to the foot of Pavey. Here I abandoned the idea of the Crescent Climb, as I had never done it, and started up Great Gully. My bad climbing put Iris off, but once she got started she was alright. Partly so that she shouldn't see me make a mess of the Bracket and Slab (was ever a pitch more appropriately named), I did the next to last two pitches together, and after Iris was up threw the rope down for Eric; unfortunately it didn't reach him – I tried to think he ought to be proud of doing it without – but only tried. I went the easy way on the last pitch, but got Eric to try the 'very difficult' scoop' – as he was getting down that I was as near as I have ever been to holding someone.
At the top we were all wet through, and just shivering with the cold, so I was very glad that the others didn't think it necessary to go on to Gwynnes. We went on to the top and then went down in what I hoped was the direction of the plateau between the Pikes (it was very misty). Soon we found a path and started to follow it. The mist cleared before we got to the top of Harrison and we were able to see the way to the D.G. track, which we followed to 'my' gully where we ran down the scree and onto Grisedales for a cup of tea.
It was a horrid day, misty and showery, but Eric and I set off up the Band, overtaking the party who were undecided whether to go on to Gable and Scawfell, or not. At the top of the Band we found the gully down to the climb, and left the rucksack at the top. I was wet through, so I took off my shirt and put on a dry woolly underneath my wet coat and felt a bit better. I am afraid I went round the difficult beginnings of the last two pitches, but Eric managed them alright. At the top, we had lunch behind a stone which should have sheltered us, but I was soon shivering, and an H.G. cape didn't seem much protection. We set off towards Bowfell, hoping that the walk would warm us, but we were more exposed to the wind. Then I remembered that the Cambridge Climb was very awkward under wet conditions and that only left the buttress(!), so I jumped at it when Eric suggested returning for tea and going out again afterwards. We got beautifully warm running down Hell Gill and had a bath and changed before going to the D.G. for tea. Back at Wall End, we put on our climbing things again (mine weren't quite dry) and, after another shower, set out with Peter for the first pitch. I was glad of these showers; I felt we hadn't returned to Bowfell for nothing. I gave Eric a rope down and he got up as far as the overhang and then went down, so Peter gave me a rope down, but I made a worse mess of it than I had done on Saturday. It was after the overhang that I would have gone down if I had thought I could get down. By the time I got up it was time to return.
Five of us put our names down for an early breakfast the next day – Peter and Eric borrowed some rope for the next day, but then thought they had done enough borrowing for one day, so wouldn't ask for bikes. We had decided on Dow Crag, as being somewhere different. We thought that if it was wet (as I was sure it would be) we could bus to Skelwith Bridge and then the others seemed to think we could hitch to Coniston.
It was a glorious day – much too good to last, I was sure, so we had our early breakfast and started in good time to walk to Dow. I wore my shorts and carried my trousers. I had planned to do this if it was wet and I was so surprised to see the sun that I couldn't adjust my plans. Peter started to lead, but I am afraid I had no sympathy with his way through the Blea Tarn Woods (that were). I am sure the man to turn us back wouldn't have been about at that time of the morning. We went up Rough Crags, Wet Side Edge etc., then round Fairfield and so to the foot of the Crag about 11.30.
We left Joyce in the sun and roped up, Eric and Iris on my rope and Peter linking on, on the farm rope. We chose C. first - because it was longest I believe – there was nothing very outstanding about it. I went round and up the open scoop in pitch 5, but the others went up the 'distinctly difficult' way. At the slab, Eric soon got across, but then Iris did it so daintily. Peter was more clumsy. At the top we scrambled down Easy Terrace – except that Peter wanted to abseil at one point – and had a late lunch with Joyce at the bottom.
During lunch I looked at the book to see if I could find anything more difficult than D, as my party were too good for me. I had an idea I ought to take them up Woodhouse's, but I wanted to do something different, so I thought if I could find the Falcon variation (2 pitches of a 'vd') it would make a suitable climb. Later we watched four others start up C – the party included two novices. I was rather worried, for I noticed that they took in the rope over the shoulder, but the next day Jack pointed out the foolishness of this. We scrambled up to the foot of 'D' ordinary and I started up what corresponded the nearest to the variation, but it didn't seem right, so I came down again and went up the ordinary way. This time Iris was next to me and then Peter and then Eric. Peter didn't want to be last and I didn't want him next to me as he seemed excellent at muddling ropes, so that seemed to be the only order. After I had made it I decided that the 'awkward step' was the best part of the two climbs.
We again hurried down Easy Terrace, and soon after 5.0 set off back the same way.
At the Three Shires Stones, Eric and Peter were for going home over the shoulder of Blisco, but it was by then 6.30 or later and my rubbed heels hurt going up hill, so I went down the road and back along the path Peter was so afraid of, through the Blea Tarn Woods. We were only a minute or so after the others.
At dinner we were at Mr. Tucker's table. We heard rumours of the news about Italy. It seemed much too good to be true – to end a day like we had had, with good news. We went down the farm afterwards and listened to the news.
I was so glad the others had seen what climbing was like under ideal conditions.
I spoke to Jack about climbing the next day, should the weather permit the wearing of rubbers and he was not against it, although the others seemed to think they were coming too. Fortunately, Peter had a party to lead, leaving only Eric, to come as well.
The impossible (it seemed to me) had happened, another day was fine – not quite as bright as the day before, as there was what I called a heat haze, but which Jack said was rain coming.
We set off for Gimmer – Jack soon caught us up as I started up one of the tracks down! At the beginning of Ash Tree Ledge, we left our things. I put on my climbing boots. I had worn my old ones up as my heels still felt sore when I had started to put on my new ones that morning, but once I got them on they were all right. We went round to Ash Tree Slabs, and Jack led Eric and me up it, and then at Ash Tree Ledge we went up 'A' – I asked that 'B' should be left till last! At the top we scrambled down the gully for our lunch (rather late). Our last climb was 'B' – we scrambled up to the start and then roped up, with me in the middle this time, and Eric led to the foot of Amen Corner. Jack got up this so beautifully, then it was my turn. At Jack's suggestion I took off my boots, then Jack asked for the rope (there was line between Jack and me) and I tried it – I got to standing on the pinnacle, and I got my two hands over the top, but then I was helpless, so Jack gave me a hand. Eric got up eventually without help.
I enjoyed the rest of the climb and hurried down to Grisedales for tea. What an anticlimax to mix with the party after that marvellous day. Peter was with the party at Grisedales, so the nine of us set off for the first pitch. Eric gave me a rope down, and I got up it a little better than last time, but not a bit like last year. Then I remembered that last year it was always in rubbers I did it, so perhaps I wasn't so much worse than I was then, after all. Eric then got up, but Peter turned back before the overhang.
In the evening about a dozen from the farm came in, for the concert. Play reading, melodrama, Pantomime (Cinderella) and Variety – very well compèred by Bill.
Kathleen was persuaded to come, and Eric of course, but not Iris, she decided to keep Joyce company. I wanted to go to Bowfell, but it was in the mist and it looked like rain. I didn't know what Kathleen was like, so I set off for Scout, although I knew Eric was very disappointed – but anything would be tame after that Thursday.
We called in the D.G. and rang up Coniston T.H. but they were full for Saturday night. At Scout, we went up the easiest of the 50 ft climbs – Kathleen got up beautifully, despite having no clinkers, and then Eric gave me a rope down for the harder.
I was no quicker than usual – spiders on one of the holds didn't help – Eric had no difficulty and then Kathleen – after hanging on by her hands for the first step – was a joy to watch. We went up route I and then I gave Eric a rope down for the 'severe crack' or route II, but he didn't get up it.
After lunch we went up Mill Gill to Pavey Ark and scrambled up the Crescent to the foot of Gwynnes. Eric was on the end and tried to send up the rucksack, but it got stuck and necessitated a bit of climbing down on his part to rescue Kathleen's coat which had dropped out.
I went up the inside of the last pitch, Kathleen was up the 'more pleasant' way in no time, and then Eric followed up my way.
On the way down to the foot of Rake End Chimney, Kathleen decided to go home. Her ankle was hurting from the day before, and she wanted to be able to take her time getting down. It was a good job for us she didn't do the climb.
By following the book, I found the climb all right till the next to last pitch; here I was almost reduced to asking for a shoulder (for it was getting so late), but I did at last think of sitting on a lump, which helped considerably. At the last pitch I nearly gave up, the hand holds were alright, but there was nowhere for my feet, but eventually, by sort of getting into the cave first, I was able to do it. I was sure I had used those foot holds before and found them no good, but I was able to get up it like that – or perhaps it was that I hadn't time to play about any longer.
It was about 6.45 when we coiled up the rope, so we hurried down. I hoped that Mill Gill was the quickest way. Eric had to go back for his rucksack which he had left on the way down from Gwynnes, but he soon caught me up. We ran down, but were 10 minutes late for dinner, but didn't miss the soup.
Bowfell had been in mist all the day, so I didn't really regret my choice of climbing grounds for the day. It was raining on Pavey and the chimneys were horribly wet by ordinary standards, if quite pleasant compared with Monday.
I put my name down for an early breakfast, but didn't intend to leave if the weather was anything like. It didn't look at all nice at 6.30, so I got up, packed, made my bed and had my breakfast in record time, leaving Rhys' rope in Miss Smith's care.
It was pouring at Windermere, and didn't clear till mid-day, so I didn't regret my decision (I think it was the thought of the work I should have to do which put me off hanging about Wall End on a wet Saturday). Kathleen Steele, Eleanor, Arthur and I were in the train together and found an open compartment with a table to sit round. It was as nice as a train journey could be, but I honestly thought day travel worse than night. I went straight home, arriving about eight at Present Park.
I caught the 7.24 to Waterloo; it was crowded and rather late in, so I caught an underground to Euston and made my way straight to platform 12 and when the train came in I got in the very end carriage, hoping that no-one else would bother to walk up as far, but there were soon eight of us in it. I started to wind my skein of wool before the lights were put on and got it in such a muddle that it was midnight before I got it done. I then thought it time I settled down, so we moved my rucksack and the one case from the rack and I spread my raincoat along it and got up there. I dozed quite a lot for the first hour, in fact once when I woke up and saw the other people below, I wondered what they were doing there! The carriage was so warm, I was taking all my woollies off instead of putting them on as I'd had to last September. I was so comfortable, I didn't bother to look for Rhys at Crewe; he had mentioned Preston, so I waited till then. At Preston, we got out of adjacent doors; Rhys had been in the next carriage to me since Crewe! I went back to Rhys' compartment and met his friend Tom. Very soon Rhys left us to find a compartment on his own and get some sleep. He knew he wouldn't leave off talking while he was in with us.
We arrived in Windermere about 6.40, but the two taxis waiting seemed to be already booked, so we eventually joined the bus queue, but when the green Hillman drew up in the station approach, we ran back to him and he said he would drive us to Ambleside. He was in such a hurry we asked him if he thought he could catch the bus up after Ambleside. He said he didn't think so, that the bus always started punctually as it was from the bus station! He said he was only allowed to go as far as Elterwater, so we had better get in another taxi at Ambleside. In Ambleside he raced in to see about the other taxi in just as much of a hurry as he had driven us there. We made a few enquiries and found that the shops weren't opening – so Tom's idea of getting his H.G. boots nailed fell through; also, we found that we couldn't get breakfast in the town (not that I thought we needed it after Rhys' chicken sandwiches), so we went back and asked for our taxi at 8 instead of 10 as we had originally said. While the others were asking about the taxi, a bus came down the road and I was looking to see whether by any chance it was our bus, even later than usual, but it wasn't. The driver, however, asked me where I was for and when I said the D.G. he told me to wait there till he came back. I was so afraid we were going to have a bus expecting to take us up as well as the taxi, but the driver turned out to be Mr. Brown who drove our taxi, so I needn't have run away from him when I heard the bus coming back!
It was a lovely ride up the valley; Rhys and I tried to point out to Tom the climbing grounds, but he seemed more interested in what Mr. Brown had to say.
When we got to Wall End it looked different with the hut doors newly painted and it seemed deserted, but I soon found Miss Smith and she told me to go down to my hut, Lingmoor, where I found Wyn, a day before I had expected her, and heard her tale about not being able to get on the train at Preston, and so not arriving till 1.30 that morning! Eric soon appeared, and I found that Jack was still Sec.
After breakfast (complete with marmalade), we waited for our sandwiches to be cut and then set off for Middlefell. I gave Eric a rope down for the first pitch, but the others went round to start at the 2nd pitch, while he was still struggling. He then gave me a rope down; I took off my boots and walked down in my socks and then came up, but never again. Besides it being so painful, it was so difficult with my feet slipping so inside the socks, I don't know whether it was because they were of oiled wool. At the top I gladly put on my boots again and we set off up the middle part. We caught up with the other three below the last pitch and struggled (at least I did, the others didn't have much trouble) on the problem; Tom certainly was marvellous in his H.G. boots.
At the top of the climb, the others thought Scout preferable to Pavey, so we had our lunch, did a bit of traversing along the hillside and came down the D.G. track, forgetting to show Tom the falls on the way. I wished I had known Harristickorner, but didn't think I could find it if I looked.
At Scout we started at the 50 ft climbs, Tom would insist that I had a rope down for the easier one, but it meant that I got rather muddled with the tree. I was just as unhappy as ever at the loose slope part of the right hand one and Eric quite put me to shame by not using it at all. Eric and I next went up one of the long climbs, the one with the nose, while Rhys tried the severe crack on the other route.
They then decided that we must get back to Grisedales for tea if we were going to get the line we had borrowed from the Sec's. hut back before he came in. After tea, Rhys and Eric took the line back, and then I went with them to the foot of the first pitch. I went round and gave them a rope down, but neither came up. (I wouldn't try in case I couldn't do it again.)
In the evening Marian and Frank joined the five of us for our walk. When we got back, we found that not enough had stayed in to make it worth while having dancing etc.
We had suggested Bowfell, but this was another day just like Friday, really hot and with a real heat haze, so we decided on Gimmer, while the weather held. Rhys decided to keep Tom company for his walk over Bowfell and the Crinkles, so Wyn, Eric and I set off for Gimmer. I was so envious of Wyn, going on the track to Gimmer for the first time; I always think what a pleasant surprise it must be.
At Gimmer, Wyn and I changed into rubbers and left our boots and rucksack and went round to Ash Tree Slabs. It was such a lovely day that I was quite happy on it; I hesitated at the corner on the first pitch, but that was all. When we were half way up, I saw some other climbers coming round and I thought that we must hurry off the climb, but I heard one of them say 'That is Joas!'.
At the top we walked along Ash Tree Ledge and brought our lunch up and had it (complete with sardines) and then set off up Oliversons. At Forty Foot Corner, I am afraid I kept into the corner ('A' route), not on the edge where Rhys pulled me. We scrambled down S.E. Gulley (Wyn would have been much better if I hadn't tried to advise her!) and found the beginning of Gimmer Chimney. Wyn watched Eric and me on it. All went well (I lost a little time at the 'awkward get-off') until the beginning of the 5th pitch; here I couldn't see how you could start up the right rib so I asked a party on 'Bracket and Slab' who were now level with us. It was Taffy I asked and I thought he was impatient with us, so I thought I had better get up quickly, so I did, starting at the left and having a terrific stretch over to the right. When next I met Taffy, on the gangway, he seemed very pleasant, so perhaps I had been wrong about him. We watched the leader try the chimney, but he came down, so Eric and I hurried up our easier chimney in case they should want to come up that way, but we learned from Wyn that Taffy had eventually led up the chimney which is 'very hard, very strenuous and usually also very wet'.
Eric and I came down the gulley again to have tea with Wyn, who then went home leaving Eric and I to try Main Wall. I put on my boots, so felt I was doing something at last, although I missed that feeling I had in rubbers of being so close to the rock. In the evening the same seven of us went out, but the new D.G. only had bottled cider; when we got back, they were doing 'strip the willow'. Rhys and I got on what we thought was the end of it, only to find it was the beginning and we had to go all through it.
Little Chris arrived that evening and persuaded us to join his crowd for Gimmer the next day.
When I woke up, I could believe for the first time that I was at Langdale – it was raining! Tom decided to cycle to Windermere and Wyn thought she would like to accompany him, so Rhys, Eric and I set off with Chris, Arthur and Doris to Gimmer.
Gimmer was in the mist when we got there, and there was quite a cold wind. Chris had to take Doris and Arthur up Oliversons, so the other three of us went round to the foot of Herdwick. We started at the only possible place, but it only seemed like scrambling till the last pitch. I started up it, but wasn't very happy in boots and was getting cold, so I got Eric to go round to the right, and with him holding my rope I traversed off that bit and went round to the top and tied on and Rhys came up. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he reached one handhold, so I was glad I hadn't tried to do it. I was also glad that Rhys took in Eric's rope when it came to Eric's turn.
We went along Ash Tree Ledge and found the others up 'B' route instead of Oliversons, they came down from Thomson's Ledge (as far as they had got) and started up Oliversons, while we started up 'B'. It was beautifully sheltered below Amen Corner, so we stayed there a little while, but none of us could do it. I found it was much too high to use a shoulder as I had hoped, so we came down and found that the others had done so before us. We were quite wet so decided to go down to Grisedales for lunch.
After lunch, Chris and Eric went to Middlefell where Eric went up the first pitch and then Chris found an impossible hand traverse! I had a bath and changed and the bell rang, but I hadn't said I should be in for tea so I didn't hurry, so the bell was rung again and Miss Smith said the second time it was especially for me and one of the staff, so I had some tea. When it was nearly over, Wyn and Tom came in and seemed to think I had eaten their tea.
In the evening I went for a walk up to the first summit on Side Pike. After dinner we went for our usual walk, but after the draught cider some of them seemed to mistake the way to Gimmer for the way home! We got back in time to hear a little of the discussion on water-divining and 'new souls' and 'old souls'.
It was such a lovely evening that Wyn and I went up the Blea Tarn Road. Every rock seemed to show up on the Langdales by the shadows formed by the full moon, but it was a walk which should have been taken the first and not the last night.
Wyn, Rhys, Eric, Chris and I had been going to Bowfell (Tom went on the early bus), but the mist was still on the hills when it was time to set out so Wyn and Rhys said they would come on when it cleared, and Eric, Chris and I set off. We lost Chris immediately, he went in to see his friends in the barn and didn't catch us up for hours. We were in the mist long before we got to the top of the Band, and I didn't keep to the path; I kept to the right of the Band, so that when we got to Bowfell we were too low for the path, but it wasn't too bad (especially as Eric didn't know the proper path – I should have been most ashamed had Wyn or Rhys been with us).
I began to think it time we got to the Buttress when we came to a stream coming out of a rock. I was most thankful and said 'Good the Cambridge Climb' and we went ahead joyfully. Just as I was beginning to wonder what was wrong again, we came to the real Cambridge Crag and knew we were right for we could see the patch of snow below the Buttress through the mist.
At the foot of the Buttress, there was no sign of Chris and it was quite wet, so I thought that instead of mucking about with the book, trying to find a new climb (I wanted to do the Plaque route), we would do the Buttress. The only part that I was doubtful about was the crack and I thought I should have to have a shoulder if necessary.
It was a day very similar to the first time I had done it, and I was very surprised how I was able to recognise bits that I had done the first time and had never been able to find afterwards. The only difference I noticed from the first time was that my climbing seemed to have deteriorated!
On the 4th pitch we heard Chris, and he soon caught us up. I said that if I could do the Crack I should like to finish the climb, and Chris was all for it – but that Crack! – fancy a leader (so called) saying to the 3rd, 'put that rope down in case you have to catch me'. I did eventually get up, didn't quite hang on with my teeth, and Chris roped onto Eric, but he couldn't get over being led by a woman! I was a little while over the exposed bit, but it wasn't really too bad after the Crack.
We came down to the foot of the climb and got out our sandwiches, but I wasn't very hungry. It was about 2.0 and the mist started to clear, and we saw down the valley! We looked at the sheep bones (I shall always blame the water we gave it) and then played on the snow, but it wasn't too good.
We came back along the proper track; I was so glad Eric saw it, for I think it is just as surprising as the Gimmer one, and then down to the sun in the valley. I had a bath and changed and packed, and set off with Eric and Chris for tea at the D.G. – we ordered tea for Wyn and Rhys as well, but they weren't back in time. They hadn't set out till 2.0 ish, when it had started to clear, but Rhys was in plenty of time for the bus.
The bus left lots of people on the way down the valley. At Ambleside we had to get out and join the queue for Windermere, but we couldn't get on the bus and had to wait for the next one at 6.30. We sat on the wall basking in the sun while waiting and bought a local paper to look at.
At Windermere we found Wyn, who had cycled down, waiting, and left our things in the station and went to the Eleray Hotel for a meal.
Wyn had to catch the 8 o'clock train, as we came along they unlocked two empty compartments, so Wyn was able to get a seat. About a minute before the train was due to go, we thought that if Wyn had someone to put her bike on the train at Oxenholme, she would stand more chance of pushing her way on the train, if it was as crowded as the one up had been, so Rhys and I ran back and collected our rucksacks and got in with her, explaining to the man who was encouraging people to catch the 8.30 that that one didn't catch the connection to Blackpool!
At Oxenholme, we saw Wyn into her train, but it wasn't very crowded. After waving goodbye to her, we went for a walk to the top of a little hill and then back to wait for our train. We were able to get a corner seat. Rhys got out at Crewe, so after that I got on the rack and was very comfortable for the rest of the journey.
They were such helpful people in the carriage; once, when I sat up and looked down, one of them asked if there was anything he could do for me. I said yes, he could hand me up my sandwiches, which were below the pile of luggage I had taken from the rack, but actually they were easy to get out because they were beneath the arm in the corner. They were very surprised, asked me if I usually had a meal at a quarter past three in the morning! but it was only something to break the monotony. The ticket collector thought I had got up there to escape him, but I hadn't lost my ticket.
We got to Euston at 5.25, so I waited for an underground to take me to Waterloo, where I caught the 6.26. I was only half an hour late for work.
On the Friday night I got to Euston before 10.0 and only just managed to get a corner seat. Eric didn't arrive till about quarter of an hour before the train was due to leave, having been delayed by two 'things' on the line to Euston.
The train was packed, but we were alright till Crewe, where we had to change – we went straight to the other platform, but the train was packed and, after wandering up and down it for some time, we resigned ourselves to waiting for the special they were putting on at 6.15. We found some trolleys to sit on, but they kept moving them. We got a seat on the special and travelled in style to Chester, but there it was 'All Change' – the next train to Bangor was at 9.0 so we found the platform, and some people to look after our rucksacks and set off to look at the town; Eric wasn't very thrilled with the walls, so at his suggestion we started exploring the town by taking the first on the right and first on the left alternately, which took us to the Cathedral, where we found the cloister and a most unexpected garden. We got back to the station with some rolls for the party which had looked after our things and took up our place at the edge of the platform.
When the train arrived it was packed! A guard's van stopped opposite us, and it seemed bulging with people. The porter said that a pram had to go in and several people slipped in, so I determined that we should – not feeling very proud of myself. I stood on the edge, with my rucksack on my back bulging through the door – well, the people inside had to let me in far enough to get that in; then I realised that if I put my rucksack on the pram, I could put Eric's on top, and he could stand where my rucksack had been – fortunately, it wasn't till after this that the policeman came along. After some time I was able to sit on the wooden rack, but got down before Conway for the views. Presently we were able to sit on the floor. We reached Bangor at about 12.30 where we patronised the British Restaurant before catching the bus to Bethesda.
From Bethesda we started walking up the road up Nant Ffrancon; we soon left that and found a path by the side of the river, which we crossed at Dol Awen. About a mile further up we stopped and washed in the stream and put on our boots to lighten our packs. We arrived at the hostel in plenty of time for supper, which we had at the same table as several of the Conway Cadets and we were very interested in their tales about their life. Eric and I didn't avail ourselves of the cocoa that night as we had decided to go to bed early, although it was a lovely evening.
It was wet, but we decided to take out the rope, in spite of that. At first, I thought of 'Gashed Crag' (Betty recommended it), but then the rain seemed to me to be coming more from the east, so I thought the slabs would be better. It was a good job that Eric remembered the rope, for I set out without it.
On the slabs I thought that the easiest of the three climbs was the best idea in the wet, so we started up 'Hope' – I had meant for us to lead through for this holiday, but in the rain I didn't like the thought of going first myself, so I didn't see how I could make Eric do it.
I went up the easiest way, while Eric found some more difficult variations. It wasn't too bad till we got to the 'Bad Step'. Here I got (with some difficulty) onto the upper ledge at the left hand end, but couldn't traverse along – the handhold low down where I wanted it was too slimy for me to use – so I cheated! – I put the rope round the top of the handhold, and took hold of it and swung along. I took some time to step up, too, I didn't think of reaching right over for a long time. I don't remember much about the rest of the climb except that it was wet, and belays were difficult to find.
At the top we had our lunch in as sheltered a spot as we could find; they were lovely sandwiches, the first had lettuce, cucumber and beetroot in it! After we had finished we thought that walking would be a better idea than climbing for the afternoon, so we went straight up Glyder Fawr. At the top we looked at the compass (but not at the map) and set off to go towards Y Garn, but we had forgotten (or rather never heard of) Esgair Felen! After some time we looked at the compass again and found that (to me) north was south! – i.e. we were going down towards Llanberis instead of Llyn Idwal, so we followed our compass in a northeasterly direction; we must have gone on towards Glyder Fach, for, to the west of us, when the mist lifted slightly, we looked across a rocky cwm, to, I expect, the Gribin. We went down to Llyn Cwn and as it was fairly clear to the south, we followed the path in that direction to get a view down the Llanberis pass; the Snowdon Group had their tops in mist, of course.
We turned back and went to the top of the Kitchen, Eric was suitably impressed and didn't jump at my offer of a rope down for it! We then went on towards Y Garn, but dropped down to Llyn Idwal before getting there.
That evening Eric thought he ought to learn something about Welsh pronunciation, so we had lessons in Welsh (besides Anglo-Saxon) from Betty.
It was a glorious day, but our things were still wet from the day before, so, with Betty and Derek, we made a bonfire and dried them. They got it alight in no time, despite the wood being so wet.
Rather late, we set out for Tryfan, and stopped at the foot of the Milestone, with the intention of going up the Ordinary way. I hope it is the Direct Route we went up for, if not, my climbing had much deteriorated since the last time I was there. The buttress was quite crowded for wartime; there were two other parties on it. We led through; Eric had the most difficult pitches, or rather he chose the hardest way, while I always chose the easiest.
We had our lunch at the top (the crumbs of the sardine and sweet sandwiches were rather mixed in my pocket).
In the afternoon we went along the Heather Terrace trying to get the gullies sorted out. I decided one was 'North Gully', but it must have been 'Green Gully', for the next one had 'North Gully' scratched on it, which I thought very helpful. We thought the next gully must be South Gully and the party ahead of us seemed to think they were going up 'Gashed Crag', so we followed on.
Again we led through, but this time I thought the hardest bits came to me; there was one little bit where I took off my boot, but that seemed to make it harder, and was quite unnecessary. Then I was in front again round 'The Gash'. I wasn't expecting an ' awkward chimney' – I struggled and struggled on it (fortunately Eric was out of sight) before finding the handholds on the right hand wall of the chimney. As an excuse to rest, I brought Eric round and then I got up the chimney. I started facing left and turned round half way up and faced right, and crawled out of it on my knees! Eric then just walked up!
Higher up I avoided a slab, but Eric got up it O.K. – had I known it was well known as 'Faith and Friction' I would at least have had a shot at it.
We went over all three peaks of Tryfan which landed us in the north, so we came down that way. There were some interesting bits of scrambling, but it wasn't very quick. The sun looked very high in the sky so it didn't occur to me that we were late for supper, but it was 9 o'clock before we were in. I wondered what sort of a reception we should get, but Miss Pritchard couldn't have been nicer, and said didn't we know that we could have a late supper occasionally if we asked for it. We agreed to wait till Ernest and Tony got back and have ours with them.
It was wet, but it seemed best to set out for Bryn Dinas via Snowdon as we had planned. We set out with one big rucksack and a little one and the rope, having locked the other big one in the cupboard at the hostel. We went up to Llyn Bochlwyd, soon getting in the mist and then over Bwlch Tryfan and on along the Miners Track. We went down and then started to ascend to get over the Glyder Ridge, when I suddenly had the ridiculous idea that we were over the col and were ascending to the top of Glyder Fach, so we started to cut straight down the hillside. Then, as on Sunday, for no reason at all I looked at the compass and realised what we had done and we turned round and went straight up and over. On the way down we got out of the mist and Eric had his first view down Nant Gwynant. At one point I even thought the sun was coming through, and I was sure that by the time we got there the mist would have gone from the Snowdon Horseshoe – I should have known better. We went down to Pen-y-Gwryd and along the road to Pen-y-Pass, where I was very disappointed to find that the hotel was sold out. We set off up the Pen-y-Gwryd back, seeing quite a number of people on the way. After a mile or so, we were quite on our own, on the way up to Crib Goch. We were getting wet and cold, so we didn't bother about the pinnacles, or any extra bits of scrambling. It was after 4 o'clock when we got to the top of Snowdon, and we found the sheltered side of the cairn and I changed my wet shirt for a dry woolly and we had our lunch. I decided that in future we should have our lunch at lunch time! The dates helped the cheese sandwiches down.
Eric didn't seem too keen on finishing the horseshoe (I had at last given up hope of its clearing), so we went straight down the Watkin, soon getting out of the mist. I found many changes at Cym-y-Llan since I was last there. The army have been seen using it as their target. Despite the notice on the door 'Death and insanity lurks within', we went in, up what is left of the stairs and found that the 'dining room'; and men's bedroom' were still O.K., but my old bedroom had no floor left. My name was still on the ceiling, although much of the plaster was down.
Eric noted that there was plenty of wood around in case we were stranded that night (I knew from the bonfire on Monday that it didn't matter to Eric that it was wet. Nant Gwynant seemed very wooded and friendly after Nant Ffrancon. We arrived at Bryn Dinas the same time as the party and Jack Woods promised to see what he could do for us. He was speaking to Miss Niven for some time before she agreed to let us stay. The food is such a problem that without Jack's help, I doubt if we should have got in. I was in Garden House no. 2.
That evening, between writing post cards, reading Dorothy Pilley, and Mr. Llewin on the subject of 'the Milestone' and 'Gashed Crag' we had quite a long chat with Miss Niven.
We set out in good time, but chose a very long route to get to Lliwedd. We wasted hours by going through the woods the other side of Llyn Gwynant, but it was quite a change. From the Power Station, we went up the Pipe Line, and then along to the foot of our climb, which Eric picked out in the distance from the diagram. Here we had lunch – our sardines were delicious (I thought) with the H.F. beetroot sandwiches.
When reading the Lliwedd Guide in Basingstoke I picked out 'Avalanche Route' as being a very good climb, but I don't think at that time it occurred to me that we would really get to Lliwedd. I thought that if the H.F. had room for us, the day would be pouring wet, so when we actually got there that was the only climb I could think of, and a 'vd', while on Sunday and Monday we had found 'diffs' quite enough for us.
As we started, there were a few spots of rain, but fortunately it didn't come to anything. Eric started, but he didn't like the groove in its wet and slimy condition, so we scrambled onto 'Heather Shelf' by the 'usual East End easy way'. Eric again led, he was soon out of my sight and seemed to go on and on. I got no reply to my shouts, when he had gone 100 ft, so I transferred the belay to a rock further round and still he went on, so I did the same thing again, much to Eric's horror when I told him, for some of that pitch was beautifully exposed.
When it was my turn to go first, I had what the book describes as 'the hardest part of the climb' which put me off to begin with. The second silly thing was that I used my knees! I put them both on a bit of quartz and had two slimy quartz handholds, and wasn't a bit happy! Eventually I managed to stand up and belay, and I brought Eric up to the foot of that bit, and eventually I proceeded up the groove! I was so envious of Eric – he looked quite happy on that bit. The rest of the climb only seemed like scrambling and we landed on The Terrace and we wondered how to get to the top except by the Red Wall. (This was harder than Avalanche, so we thought we would let it alone.) Eventually we found that Terminal Arête was just the easy way up we were looking for (moderate) and we found it quite interesting.
We got to the top in good time and had our tea (the sweet sandwiches from lunch). The view was good – it had been all the way up with the mist blowing round Snowdon and Crib – and then found our way down to Cwm-y-Llan. We were early so we went to the farm for a glass of milk and talked to Mrs. Jones (the Miss Owen of my staff days).
The party were going in taxis to do the Snowdon Horseshoe, so we rode with them to Pen-y-Gwryd. I was in the first taxi and didn't realise our things were in the back of it, so the second taxi (with Eric) promised to bring them back. After that we waited for Jack as we realised that we hadn't paid for our ride. As we passed the hotel, the man warned us to look out for a little parachute which he said had come down in the hills. We went up the Miners' Track, and then to the top of Glyder Fach, before going on to Y Gribin and down that. We had our lunch half way down. We had borrowed the 'Glyder Fach' guide from Bryn Dinas and thought we would use it while we had got it. We found the 'Facet of the Gribin' and soon identified the Monolith Crack. Eric changed into rubbers, but I wanted to do it in boots! Eric was gleeful the way I nearly stuck while 'squirming' through the cave. I then started up the crack (chimney I called it). I had an awful struggle getting up the first few feet and then couldn't do the next bit; there was nothing for it, I had to change into rubbers, but I didn't want to come down the bit I had done, and I couldn't bend down where I was, so Eric had to turn lady's maid! – it was quite easy in rubbers.
When I got to 'the famous crux of the climb' I couldn't get in! I tried it standing up and I tried it crawling along, but it was too narrow. In desperation I took off my coat, and I found that made all the difference. I didn't mind the rest of the climb.
As 'Zigzag' ended near the top, Eric's suggestion was that we came down it; he started down the left hand (severe) crack – I hoped to follow him with the rope round the belay, but it wouldn't run, so I went up and down the easy way. It was easy as far as the tree and then I tried to utilise the tree for coming down the chimney. I enjoyed sliding down it, thinking that this climb was much better done down, than up. Then, as I was pulling the rope, it stuck, so I had to 'squirm' up that horrid chimney. The only consolation I could find was that I had to slide down again.
Next we went up Angular Chimney; I didn't find the first three pitches too bad, so I then tried the direct finish on the fourth pitch. I followed the book and 'squirmed up strenuously' – it took a long time and eventually I reached the handholds at the top, but, as the book says about the severe crack at the top of 'Zigzag', by the time I had them I was beyond using them, so, after all my struggling, all I could do was to slide down the chimney again! I went round the easy way and watched Eric get up the crack in no time.
Back at the hostel, Connie told us that three nights per holiday was the allowance, but she didn't do anything about it. We found that Peter of Langdale last September was spending two nights there, and that later he was going as Sec. to Langdale.
After supper I went in the common room and was greeted with the remark 'This is a far cry from Graffham' – the three others who were at Graffham last March were spending three nights there.
We had a musical evening and were quite late to bed. Betty had to leave her church porch and sleep inside, because the commandoes were there; she kept us awake at first by calling out. She thought Derek was leading her up a very severe on the dormitory roof!
I thought we might as well use the Glyder Fach guide again while we had got it; also the climbs seemed quite suitable for the weather (it was a little misty). Betty seemed quite amused when I mentioned the Needles Eye climb. We were a little while finding it (or I was, because I didn't listen to Eric). After I was up it, I decided the 'awkward mantelshelf' was quite pleasant, and that there was real climbing on this route – i.e. not only struggling. All went well until the 4th pitch – it was some time before I would make the traverse, but it was very enjoyable, after the first move. Then came the crack, which must be climbed for a few feet before it is possible to squeeze through into the cave behind! Well, I tried every possible way, facing Eric, but I just couldn't do it. In desperation I at last got my left leg over the stone into the cave behind, and started again like that. I thought I would never be able to get it out again, but I hoped that wouldn't be necessary. It was no use, I still couldn't do it. Then in desperation I turned the other way, and realised that there were handholds there, if I grabbed both sides of the bit of rock. It was so maddening; I realised I had got the secret of it, but I just couldn't do it because the wrong leg was in. So I decided to retreat and let Eric have the benefit of my experience. That meant getting my foot out! As I had expected it wouldn't come, so I took my boot off and just managed to pull my foot out like that.
When Eric got along there, I was so glad he tried the way I failed first! He managed to get his chest in and have the crack round his waist (what I had tried but not been able to manage). He thought he would rest for a little while in that position before continuing the struggle, so he slid down till he was wedged, then, unfortunately he breathed in and slid down further so that he couldn't breathe out! I was glad he extricated himself quite soon, for I didn't know whether he was firmly enough wedged for me to move the belay and go round the top with the rope. Very soon after that he got up by 'my' method. When it came to my turn, I am afraid I used the rope instead of one foothold, but in my previous attempts I had often got my booted foot to stick on that foothold, but I couldn't get my stockinged one to (I couldn't put on my boot again till I got inside the cave) so I really think I could do it again without (what a silly thing to say!). With my right foot on top of the stone I had no difficulty.
The rest of the climb was O.K. We then came down the 'Groove Route' finding it very dirty and not very quick. At the bottom we found all this had taken 3½ hours and we sat down to our late lunch. Eric had brought up his primus, but there was no water so we didn't get our cup of tea.
The weather didn't look too promising, so we carried on with our original plan of going to Ogwen Cottage for tea, despite our late lunch. We found that we weren't the only climbers who had had that idea. After tea I bought the Clogwen du Arddu Guide, someone else bought the 1909 Lliwedd Guide, and I looked at it and saw that our 'Avalanche Route' was for a 'thoroughly expert party'. I thought I would never be called that again and bought a copy (my vanity cost me 3 shillings).
Eric and I then went to Bochlwyd. I went round to give Eric a rope down for the Chimney climb, but it wasn't in the right place and he came up without; he then gave me the rope down, but I wasn't sure of the way up so I went down after 10 ft or so as there wasn't very much time (any excuse – I didn't find tea an hour after lunch a very good preparation for a climb).
Back at the hostel we discussed our doings with Ernest who had got back again. The place seemed very empty (only three in my dormitory).
It was a lovely day just like Monday, and we were going to Tryfan again. Ron was climbing with us and Peter walked along as far as Tryfan with us. We went beyond the Milestone and then cut up to the Heather Terrace, which we followed along trying to recognise the gullies. At one point I thought the next gully would be 'North Gully', but when we got to it, there was scratched on it 'West Gully'. I was quite taken in and thought we were lost, but Eric remembered that Ernest had tried to mislead the commandoes! Having satisfied ourselves that it was North Gully, we went back to 'Green Gully' and found our 'Grooved Arête on the left of it. I felt we were very honoured when Ron, who I thought of as a 'real climber' expected us to lead. I meant Eric and I to lead alternately, but after my struggle up the grooves, I continued first to the top.
I found the Arête very impressive to look up at; I went right up the slab, then looked round and there seemed nowhere to go, but I soon found the way over on the right. Eric was in rubbers and there was a short shower just before he started so he came my way up the slab. Ron came straight across.
At the top we found Peter waiting for us and we all had our lunch together, and then made our way down to Belle Vue Terrace. I could see why Ernest had been so keen that we should see it. Ron left us to get back to the hostel to cycle down to Bangor and the other three of us went down to the Terrace to look at the beginning of the Terrace Wall Variant. It was an 'easy severe in nails' (I had to put that bit in) but only a 'vd' in rubbers, so I thought that if I couldn't manage it, Eric should be able to. Peter had his guide with him and directed me – especially emphasising which were the difficult parts. There was nothing in it to the second ledge and I think the crossings of the chimneys were made more difficult by the book saying that the difficulties were there. I made the first traverse alright and found 'Bollard Slab' perfect for nails, but then I couldn't see any scratches for the second crossing of the chimney, so I got Eric up to Bollard Slab – the way was too easy for him, he had to come straight up the chimney! Once I started off on the second crossing I found there was nothing in that, either. After this Eric wanted to lead a severe, he chose the 'Cheek Climb' as it was ' just severe in rubbers' and thought I was justified in changing.
This, like the last one, was my type of climb and, with Eric leading, and in rubbers, I don't know when I have enjoyed a climb more. The rubbers gripped, even on the 'smooth slab', and with the rope in front I was able to get up to the right of the 'loose hold' and didn't need to use it.
Peter was rather cold having waited on Belle Vue Terrace for us all this time and we thought he deserved a climb; we asked him to pick out a suitable one (he seemed more at home with the guide than we did!). He picked out Eight-foot Route – 'a good little pitch' – we found it quite good too, if we were on the right route. We then left Peter to hurry down, while we took our time to get back to our late supper. We thought of going to the Milestone again, but it was too late to do anything by the time we got down. It was an interesting route, first down a gully and then along slabs, we didn't mind that it was slow, the sun was so lovely. I found a couple of bilberries on the way. There were wonderful lighting effects with the sun and clouds behind Y Garn etc.
I had hoped we could spend our last day on the slabs and then come back for our supper at 6.30, and share a taxi down with the others, but the weather spoiled that. Dick and his friend decided to go early and, without a taxi, we knew that we should have to leave by 6.30.
I spent the morning on the veranda, playing with the kitten and hoping it would clear, but we were unlucky. I didn't altogether envy those who slept out there, because it is on the west side of the house! At lunch time Eric used his primus for the first time and made a cup of tea. At about 2.30 we spoke to Miss Pritchard and she promised to have a meal ready for us by 6.0. We then set out for Bochlwyd, thinking the 'Gargoyle Traverse' sounded interesting. The day before I really seemed to have found my feet and I could trust my nails.
We found the beginning of the Traverse all right and started up – I was in front as Eric's boots were in such a state. All went well until after the 'awkward little 7 ft crack' (although I was a little while getting up it). I couldn't start the next pitch, so Eric had to lead. I was then able to follow, and found it most exhilarating. I was very pleased with the 'Gargoyle'. On the traverse beyond the 'Pulpit' I was glad we were both secure while there was one gust of wind. When it came to descending the chimney I was too glad to think the rope was above me to remind Eric that the leader goes last in climbing down.
We broke the pitch half way down the chimney, for I didn't want to go over the chockstone with Eric out of sight and hearing. I couldn't understand how he had got up it on the Friday. At the 'bollard' I 'climbed up from its right' (finding the way more than 'vd') and after 20 ft looked for the 'detached flake', but I couldn't see it anywhere. Of course, we may have been right off the route, but about where I expected to find it there was a fair sized patch of rock which was less weathered than the rest, so I believed that the flake had become truly detached and I went down (finding the way even more difficult than going up). Eric then went as far as to say that he also found the way difficult, and came to the same conclusion as I had. We then just went straight down the chimney and back to the hostel for our supper.
Miss Pritchard had been rather apologetic about the meal; she said it would only be something fried. Well, we had a lovely plate of fried bacon, sausage, potato etc. and that was followed by one of her generous helpings of stewed fruit and custard and then there was the pot of tea, pot of jam, cake and crunchy ad lib. on the table . Albert who was cycling down joined us at the end, and we left him to do our washing up while we paid the 1/3 for the meal and set off down the road. Very soon and N.F.S. lorry came long. Eric put up his thumb and it stopped and we got a lift to Bethesda among the empty petrol tins at the back. We had a good hour to wait for the bus, so we went up out of the town and found a stream where we could wash and change. I hadn't put on my dry things at the hostel as I didn't want to get them wet on the walk down and then have to wear them all night.
We were the first in the queue and caught the 8 something bus, and at Bangor got in the waiting train. Quite by chance, Albert chose our carriage and we had a most enjoyable ride with him as far as Chester, gathering some useful tips too.
At Crewe we only had a few minutes to wait for our connection, and were just lucky in getting a cup of tea. When our train drew in, there were no seats, but we got in the corridor at the end by the guard's van and were able to lie down. I hadn't realised before what a good pillow a R.S. made. I was so comfortable I was quite sorry when we got to Euston.
For once I was in time to walk to Waterloo and catch the 5.40 down. I said goodbye to Eric there, but forgot to collect my rope and R.S.
Newspaper cutting
SEPTEMBER RECORD
The first seven days of September beat all known records for a week’s rainfall, even in Cumberland – reputed to be the wettest county in England. Arthurst, North Cumberland, had 4½ in. or rain in the week.
I met Rene at Waterloo and we made our way over to Euston where we joined one of the three queues which were all for the same trains. When we got onto the platform we were still told to follow the queues, which brought us to the Blackpool train; however, we eventually found an official who told us to follow him for the Windermere train, and we went back to Platform 12. Joan had joined us in the queue, and on the platform we found Ron, who added tone to the party (I thought) by having a rope through his R.S. (I had mine inside). The four of us had a carriage to ourselves and were very comfortable, except that we could hear it pouring with rain outside, the whole of the way, but I suppose that was the only beginning to this holiday, where I did precisely nothing all the week!
We arrived at Windermere at 7.5, so there was no use thinking about a taxi. We eventually went to Rigg's Hotel for breakfast and to our surprise they treated us like royalty, despite the fact that we were very wet, and had our Ruckers etc. We left Ron to wait till the weather cleared before cycling up, and caught the bus to Ambleside. Here Rene insisted that I bought a Sou'wester. I was also very thrilled to get a Fell and Rock Journal. We caught the bus up to the D.G. and had plenty of time to get settled in our huts before lunch. I found Sylvia still in bed in Newlands.
In the afternoon the three of us set off up Side Pike with Roy, who was staying over till Monday morning.
It was wet and windy but we found interesting bits of scrambling and went on to the top of Lingmore. Here we altered our plan which had been to go to Chapel Stile and we cut down the hillside to Little Langdale – quite a slow way down, through the wet bracken.
We went on to Tilberthwaite for tea at the farm – it was all ready except for being put on the table, as though she was expecting us. When it came to paying we thought the 1/- she asked too little, but thought she might be offended if we offered more; we hadn't the exact money, so gave 5/- and waited for the change. There was a lot of talking outside and then the lady came in and fished in a box in bookcase, which contained money, but didn't hand us any change. Eventually we said goodbye and left, still without the change!
Roy asked several people to come to Middlefell; at the foot he roped up with Tom and Alex, and Dorothy came on my rope. We went the easy way up the first pitch and then straight up the rest of it, with Alec leading up the last pitch. He had tried to pretend he hadn't done any, and then it came out he could lead the first pitch! All the way up, as I caught him up he would talk climbing mostly gruesome accident tales. I was very interested in Dorothy; she had been to Langdale a week before me last year. I had heard about her, and she about me from Iris and Eric.
At the bottom we watched Alec get up the first pitch very easily and Roy with the help of the rope. We then went back with Sylvia and Rene who had come to watch.
In the afternoon, Peter, Roy, Tom and Dorothy set off for Gimmer, with the tea Miss Smith had let me get (and the plums Freda had given me). Before we got there it started to rain, so I suggested Pavey instead (I had only said Gimmer if we could wear rubbers), but Roy wouldn't hear of it – it was his last day, and he was looking forward to his first visit to Gimmer and Peter remembered that the book called Gimmer Chimney 'a satisfying wet day climb', so we went on. At the foot of the climb, Dorothy and Tom showed their sense by turning back, and I roped up with Peter and Roy. I was very slow, but it wasn't too bad till the 4th pitch, where I agreed with the book that the groove was difficult – and at the most difficult point I had to get through a miniature waterfall. Eventually I got to the belay and the other two came up. It was a miserable place, with all the water dripping down, and we decided that we had misunderstood the book, that the climb wasn't suitable for a wet day at all, but that if we must climb on Gimmer in the wet, we should get 'satisfyingly' wet on the climb!
I set off to the left and, instead of stepping up, I did a sort of stomach traverse, but eventually I got up, and before making the step across to the right I pointed out to the others that the Southeast Lower Traverse crossed the chimney at that point, and imagine my surprise (and joy) when they jumped at the chance of an easy way down. I was very relieved, for it was so cold by then that I didn't trust my hands, and didn't feel safe with anything less than my elbows around a hold. I think it was my fault Roy seemed so eager to go down. Firstly I had been so awkward on that bit, and secondly I had gone to the left when the book had mentioned the right rib, and I think he thought I was going off the climb! I stood where I was, firmly belayed, while both Roy and Peter went down; it was a very cold stance and I was soon shivering, but I couldn't help laughing at my idea of enjoyment. Alec's words of that morning kept coming into my mind 'There are fools, damn fools, and rock climbers' – I heartily agreed. The others seemed to me to be very slow (there was a shortage of belays) and it was ages before I could even get to the sheltered (comparatively) spot on the sentry box. I tried not to be impatient, but even thinking that if I was cold, they must be colder, as men feel it more than women, didn't warm me. When it was my turn to come down, the only way I could move was to sit down, get my elbows round a hold and lower myself until they told me my feet were somewhere safe – it was quite easy like that.
At the foot of the climb, Roy and I unroped, but Peter couldn't untie his knot in the middle, and he had to carry the rope down, still tied to it!
Peter went straight down the hillside, but was no quicker than Roy and I, who took the path down. We went in Middlefell Farm for a pot of tea, and had our tea standing up with the water dripping off us. Back at Wall End someone with warm, dry hands liberated Peter and we had a bath and changed.
In the evening Ron took the ' Brains Trust' – it was very good – really sensible questions. I almost (but not quite) spoke, the 'veg' made me so mad.
It was fine first thing, although cloudy, but that wasn't much good to me, I couldn't walk! On the Sunday morning, I had landed awkwardly on my ankle, but thought it was O.K. as it didn't stop me going to Gimmer in the afternoon, but it had stiffened up in the night and I couldn't move my foot. Everyone at first told me to rest it, and wouldn't hear of my exercise theory, till Rene said that Ellen used to tie hers up and go on normally. I got Ron to put a crepe bandage on it and put on my boots, intending to go with the party, but it was no use, I still couldn't walk, so, after seeing everyone else go out, I settled down in the common room to finish Rene's sock for her, and read 'Dorothy Pilley' – I spent the whole morning there as there were very heavy showers. I had lunch with the staff, but decided I must learn to walk in the afternoon, so went up the Blea Tarn Road, and found that I was doing my foot good. I went for several strolls, once calling at the farm, where they were very surprised to find that I was the only one who had spent the day in. I enjoyed my carrot. Finally, I went up the Blea Tarn road again with Helen. She had on high heels, so we were a fine pair!
In the evening it started by being games, but before very long it was exercises such as the traverse of the underside of the table, over the clock etc. Poor Peter, he had to get that clock going again, otherwise, as he said 'She will know'. The RAF fellows did all these things beautifully, just as I should expect the leader of C.B. or Gimmer crack solo, to do them. He had some old climbing guides with him, and they amused me no end; I copied out a quotation at the end of the Langdale one.
THE PILGRIM'S FIRST REVELATION
As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den; and I laid me down in that place to sleep; and as I slept I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own home, a book in his hand and a great burden upon his back, I looked and saw him open the book and read therein; and as he read he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to contain he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, what shall I do?
John Bunyon
It was quiet first thing, with a few bits of wispy cloud, so Peter and I (at least I was, I don't know about Peter) were quite hopeful about taking the rope on the Gable Traverse, especially with Dorothy to point out the Climbs. It soon started to rain and we waited till after the first shower before setting out. I had a separate lunch, in case I wanted to turn back, but my ankle was quite O.K.
We went up Rossett and on to Esk House where we left Ron to take his party of 14 up Scawfell Pike. We went on to Sty Head, by then we were very wet, so Peter suggested going over Gable and leaving lunch till we got down to Seathwaite. I like my lunch at 1 instead of 4 o'clock, so I am afraid I was in favour of going down to Seathwaite for lunch first, and then, once we were down there, they were against going up again to Gable. Certainly we should have been late for we didn't have lunch till 2 as it was.
We dried our things as well as we could by the fire and then set off down the road to Borrowdale, and then turned up Langstrath. We had tea at the foot of the Stake and then came over it home.
Back at Wall End we found that the other party had done better than us in that they got to the top of the Pike, but Ron brought only half of them back with him, the rest were fainting, or being sick by the wayside.
Lunch time we had seen a paper and had been so thrilled that we went down the farm at 9 o'clock, but the battery was run down! We first came to the conclusion that the water was responsible for the illness, for Arthur hadn't drunk any and he was all right, but Barbara disproved that, for she hadn't drunk any, and then in the night Rene succumbed, showing it wasn't only the Scafell party.
It was Peter's off day and he and Dorothy and I hoped to go to Gimmer. It was fine first thing, but very heavy looking. We waited for Peter to get back from Chapel Stile, and set out elevenish. (After Sunday, I had said I would only go on Gimmer on 'rubber days' in the future). We met another party who were setting off for Ash Tree Ledge and they said that on Sunday there had been a river down Ash Tree Slabs, but that Herdwick was possible; however, we found the slabs practically dry. I set off up then and took my time! I was sorry for the others; it must be disconcerting to see your 'leader' (so called) go up literally on her knees and elbows – I just couldn't climb. Dorothy got up alright, and Peter very easily.
We went down for lunch and then up again for 'B route', which Peter started to lead. It was starting to rain by now, so Dorothy decided to go down, she was on the ¾ wt. borrowed from the farm, so I was able to pay it out in one pitch and then untied and let her take it down. Peter had a try or two at Amen Corner and didn't look like doing it, so I went round (taking my time again, but this time I had the excuse that the rocks were wet). I sat at the top of Amen Corner and Peter tried again, but without success, so I got him to send up his boots and then he came up easily.
Dorothy was sitting at the foot of the crag all this time watching us, when the mist cleared – it wasn't raining hard, but the rock was very wet. I had taken it for granted that we should come down after the Corner, but this was Peter's last chance to climb on Gimmer this summer and he wouldn't hear of it, and led along the Gangway to the foot of 'the most difficult bit'. Here I had a look at it, but soon turned back with the verdict that the rocks were much too slimy, so Peter led up it. He agreed it was difficult all the way up, although the old guide had described it as 'like the matrimonial state, more difficult to enter than to leave'. From the top we started to go down the gully and then I realised that Peter meant what he was saying, that we were to come up Oliverson's next! I remarked that I had intended that, in rubbers, we should have come down it, and Peter then thought he would rather do it that way round, so back we went, down to the Crow's Nest. All went well to 40 ft corner, and I got safely down that, being glad the rope was above me. I felt mean going down first, for I think I find it more easy than going up, and Peter seemed to find it more difficult. Peter said he couldn't get down, so I suggested a doubled rope, but Peter would abseil properly (I had a splendid belay and took the rope in round a bit of rock besides my back as I couldn't remember anywhere big enough for Peter to put the rope round, but I needn't have worried) and let Peter go first down the next pitch and wished I had done that before.
We went straight down to Grisedales and found it was 6.30 or so. I was so glad it wasn't later. On Gimmer I had the impression it was getting dark! (We hadn't a watch after Dorothy left.)
That evening we really did hear the news – in the D.G. I was sitting in an easy chair and was in the way when they brought the tables in, so Arthur and Bill lifted the chair out of the way. I still sat still, gathering my things together, so they picked up my chair again and carried me down to Newlands; not content with that, they took me inside and Bill settled himself in the chair.
I thought we might as well make them at home, so offered them all we had, O.J., C.B. chocolate etc., so then they got out their cigarettes (or Bill his pipe) and seemed settled down for the night; we chatted a little and laughed a great deal, and they left after nearly an hour, leaving the chair on the floor. Sylvia was afraid they were going to leave it balanced on the shelf above her bed.
Dorothy and I had our lunch packed together again, but of course, it was too wet for climbing. The party was supposed to be going to Glaramara and I wasn't keen on this, for we had been all round it on Tuesday, so eventually Peter was persuaded to try the Crinkle Crags round, and we started up Blisco. I was carrying the line, in case it should clear and people want to try the 'bits' up there (I also had the Guide in case by the time we got to Bowfell …….). We followed Peter up to the top of Kettle Crag; it was still fine and we got a view of the valley, but got in the mist immediately afterwards. To get to the top of Blisco, Peter forgot that we had told the girl with the bad finger that it was only a walk up! It was cold and wet at the top so we went down to Red Tarn for lunch where we tried to shelter under the rocks. Rene, Dorothy, Brian and I were together and started discussing tea at the D.G. so we didn't mind when the rest of the party decided to go straight down. We soon got out of the mist, but we noticed that it didn't clear on the tops, so we didn't regret our decision too much.
We got back before 2 o'clock so set out through the meadows nearly to Chapel Stile where we crossed the bridge and came back along the road. We then changed and had our D.G. tea.
Before dinner, I joined the rummy table, for once my luck was in.
That evening in the D.G., Mr. Bullman was very chatty, he was called out at one point to take a personal call for 'Sugden' – I pricked up my ears at the name and found it was the same one as I hadn't met at Whit. That started Ron and Bullman on, and I listened to some real 'climbing shop'.
I was out of bed at 7 o'clock to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me, for I thought I saw some blue sky – and I was right! It was a perfect morning, sunny and cold with (I thought) the right amount of cloud about. What an optimist I was! I was in Miss Smith's hut (it was her off day) when the rain came – it was a very heavy shower. The rain changed my plan, I decided on Pavey instead of Bowfell. With Dorothy and Tom, we set out, but the rain didn't stop, so instead of going to Pavey we came down to Scout! It was quite sensible really, for as we were going through Millbeck Farm we saw Jack Cook in the shed and stayed there talking to him till the rain passed.
At Scout we went to the 50 ft climbs and I gave them a rope down for the easiest one and then put the rope round the tree for the harder one. I came up my usual way and stayed up, while Tom came up, he chose a different route and came up beautifully. Am I always to be the worst climber to use my rope? Dorothy then tried, up Tom's route, and got across to the edge and then decided to go down, which she found more difficult that coming up. I think she wished afterwards that I had bullied her into coming right up.
It started to rain again, so we sheltered under the 'honeypot' and had our lunch. After the rain, the sun came out and on Scout the rocks were dry in patches. We went up the interesting route, hope Dorothy enjoyed it. Tom of course found it much too easy.
It was after 3 o'clock when we set off for Pavey; I didn't think of Gwynnes, which might have been the right length, but started up Great Gully, and scrambled up the first 150 ft and roped up for the first pitch, but then I found that the others wouldn't mind at all if they didn't finish the climb – so we went down again, having got ourselves, the rope, and the line thoroughly wet! (There was a stream coming down the Gully.)
It was nearly 7 o'clock before we got back, so it was as well that we turned back when we did. That evening we went down to hear the news at the D.G. for the last time and went back for the games and dancing. At 11.30 or so Peter turned us out, but it wasn't too bad, for I finished out the evening in Harrison. Ron provided cider (a good job the first lot had worn off by then) – and home made shortbread and fruit cake! There were six of us – Dorothy, Sylvia, Ron, Alec and Brian.
It was a lovely day – the weather had at last changed, but we were having mid-day lunch! After seeing the people off on the morning bus, Rene, Barbara, Arthur, Philip and I walked to the D.G. force and paddled in to see it. Rene and I then walked barefoot quite a bit of the way back.
In the afternoon we packed our things, which had been drying all the morning. The others sat down by the pool to sunbathe; I thought I would have a last look at the valley from the Blea Tarn Road, and climbed the wall to save going round to the gate – I got over and was just making the last step down and had my left hand out, on top of the wall to steady myself, when the whole wall under that hand started to collapse! There was nothing I could do, I just stood and watched it. If I hadn't felt so silly, I should have been very amused at the others' faces as they came running up. Rene said she already had me in Kendal Hospital. We had tea at the D.G. – it was spoilt for me by seeing David outside – obviously just arrived – I was so envious. I spoke to her afterwards and was introduced to Frank Sugden.
We bus'd to Windermere and walked down to Bowness and had a snack at the Albert Hotel before getting in the train. The four of us had corner seats, but there were eight of us in the carriage.
I went home with Rene and spent a pleasant day with her at Thames Ditton.
I met Rene and Rhys at Waterloo and the three of us had a meal before going on to Euston. At one stage we had a carriage for us all, but the others seemed to prefer to be on their own. We met Rene's friend, Muriel, with Cyril and Len, at the station; while waiting for them, I bumped into Marjorie who was going to Wales, also Jock who was for Dol Caradoc.
The train was late in so we had a taxi all the way to Wall End.
It was a dismal day and the party decided not to go out. I thought it was no weather for climbing, so settled down to a day indoors. Very soon I was called over to Stewart; he had said he was disgusted with everyone staying in, so they had told him I was very keen to go out. When he asked me, I said Oh yes, I'd go. I though he was pulling my leg, and people who didn't know me thought I was pulling his leg and we were in a fine muddle. I spoke to Rene and she said she was quite keen to come and agreed with me that Scawfell Pike would be better than Gable, which had been Stewart's suggestion.
Although Stewart sounded so keen, he made no move to go; it was some of the others who were really keen and, before we knew where we were, there were 15 of us. I took it for granted that the Sec. would be coming and was so surprised when he didn't. We went up the Band to the top of Bowfell for lunch. I thought this the best plan; I thought it would be sure to rain before we had gone very far and then we should have gone up something, and I thought if it cleared it would be a nice walk on to Scawfell Pike. The one thing I didn't expect was the mist to remain the same all day, and that was what happened. We hoped it was clearing at lunch time; it cleared in patches in most directions, but soon came down again and we set off again in the mist. Near the top of Esk Pike, Margaret found she had lost her gold watch, so we all went back to look for it – I though it was looking for a needle in a haystack, but someone found it among the rocks, about ¼ mile back and several yards from the path.
We went on to the Esk Hause path where we left half the party to go straight back. We went on to the top of Scawfell Pike though the snow. It was nice snow, it didn't wet us; it was in hard lumps which rolled off us without melting. We were glad of the cairns for the scratches didn't show up through the snow! We went down to Middlefell for tea.
Wyn arrived in the evening; we were all in Tarn House (with Muriel).
We went with the party to Grasmere. We walked through the fields and by Huntingstile into the village for lunch at the Café. In the afternoon we got tired of waiting for Heaton Cooper to open and went on up Easedale and over to Langdale. It soon started to rain; we sheltered for a little while in the shack, but then went on. The wind was terrific and there was hail as well. Tony hadn't been that way before, but he brought us out, only a little to the left of Mill Gill – and so down again for a hot bath after a cup of tea.
The weather was too bad to tempt anyone in the morning, but in the afternoon Rene, Stewart and I thought we'd go out however wet we got. I borrowed a cape to put on over shorts and we went down to Elterwater – the weather was a little better down the valley, but it rained again as we got nearer Wall End. We came back by Little Langdale Valley, and had our first view of Blea Tarn for that holiday. We came back in time for Sunday tea.
The weather was actually good enough for climbing! It was a short day as I was catching the early bus, and we started out late. Wyn, Rhys and I were going to Middlefell Buttress. By the time Wyn and I were ready, there was no Rhys, so we called out that we were going and set off. Rhys soon caught us up; he had heard us shout, but at that time was laying low in a hut – he had been talking to one of the staff when Miss Smith came along, so he had to keep out of sight till Miss Smith had gone.
I went first up Middlefell, and the others wouldn't take over and lead, but really they got up twice as easily as I did. For the first time, I found Middlefell Buttress quite as much as I wanted to do!
We went back and had our lunch in the hut and changed and packed before going down to the D.G. for tea with Stewart and some others from Carlisle who were catching the bus. Rhys came in late for tea; he had taken George up the Buttress.
Rhys and I had supper at the Elleray (fresh Salmon) after a walk down to Bowness to sit in the sun and see the hills across the lake.
I caught the 12.05 from Nottingham; it was over half and hour late, but I didn't know how long there was for the connection at Carlisle. I dozed quite a lot on the way – I was by myself. I hadn't the courage to speak to the climbers I had seen on the station; I wanted to ask them if the knew Chris Waters. At Carlisle, I found we had missed the Penrith connection; I had an hour or two to wait and couldn't even get a cup of tea on the station. At Penrith there was another long wait and I didn't get to Keswick till about 11 o'clock.
It was a simply glorious day; how I envied the others at Mrs. Edmondson's who, I guessed, were on the hills, or even the Nottingham climbers who got a taxi up the valley. I joined the bus queue (about 2 hours to wait) till I saw Marjorie and I joined her party; she was staying at Stonethwaite. We had coffee at Storms and then lunch at the Royal Oak (or some such place) before catching the 2 o'clock bus. I left the others at Seatoller and walked up to Seathwaite Farm for an early tea. After tea I walked up to Sty Head and looked down Wasdale and came back the same way (I hadn't changed, no even put on boots). Soon I passed the Nottingham climbers and a few yards further on bumped into Chris Waters and Dorothy Smith (they had just discovered they both knew me). I asked Chris about his Nottingham climbers, after I had thought to explain to him that I now lived in Nottingham. He said he would leave a message about their local activities at Seathwaite, when he passed it on Tuesday.
Back at the farm I found the others hadn't returned, so I wandered about in the valley, glorying in the sun, so afraid that was all I should see of it. When the others did get back, I found that they had had a grand day on Gable; there was Sally and Ann, Bob and Mrs. Burroughs. Chuck and Allen arrived that evening. We stayed in that evening, Mrs. Edmondson making us some tea.
It wasn't a very promising day, but we set off for Gable, picking up Maurice on Sty Head. It was very windy on Gable, so we decided on Eagles Nest West Chimney; Chuck took four up, then Leslie took Sally, and Maurice took me. It was an age to wait, till the first eight had gone, but Maurice made an excellent leader.
It was wet and cold at the top of the climb, and the others, who had been to the top of the hill the day before in the sun had no desire to go up again, but Leslie came with me, as I hadn't been on the day before. We sat for about 5 minutes by the cairn at the top, and the only people we saw were Chris Waters with Arthur and John of the Polaris Club; Arthur said they would let me know when they were next going to the Cromford rocks.
It was so wet that we came down the ordinary way instead of over Green Gable as we had originally intended. In the evening, Sally and I, and Bob and Chuck went down to the Scawfell and carried back as many bottles as we could for the next night! It was a long walk and we hadn't a bike.
It was another sunny day, but we had to dry our clothes from the day before, before we could set out. We went up to Sty Head and waited there for Maurice, but he didn't come; we did see Lillian again though, also Dorothy and Ginger, who were starting a fortnight's walking tour. We went on to Pikes Crag where we did 'Wall and Crack'. It was a very pleasant, varied climb and was in the sun, so it was much pleasanter than Scawfell which of course was looking very gloomy. At one stage we were in the mist, but the sun came out again.
Chuck took Sally and me, and Bob followed on with Ann. I was rather slow on some of it, and I don't think it was only the rucksack which I was carrying!
I enjoyed the walk back, over Scawfell Pike and down Grains Gill.
We all stayed in for the evening.
Bob took Ann and me on Gable; we started up the Needle (they had done it on the Saturday, but did it again for my benefit). I was in rubbers which made it very easy, Ann was in boots. We were duly photographed on the top and abseiling down, by the walkers in the Dress Circle.
After lunch we went on to Arrowhead and went up the direct and down the ordinary way – a very enjoyable climb. We were able to watch Maurice and Phil Thompson on Abbey Buttress. Also going down the traverse were Stan (I think it was) of Easter and Wyn's Peggy Knapp.
We went on to Lower Kern Knotts and went up and down the Crack; they didn't make much of the slab though (I didn't even try it!). We went back with Sally who was returning to Wasdale, where she had seen Chuck off.
Sally and I spent the evening in, with Mr. and Mrs. Burroughs.
It was gloriously hot for my last day, but rather hazy.
We went up Sour Milk Gill to the foot of Gillercombe Buttress, where we had lunch. Leslie led up the climb, Mrs. Burroughs came next, followed by me, and Bob and Ann. Once we had got started it wasn't so slow for we could move two at a time. It was a lovely climb, but I wish Mrs. Burroughs hadn't tried to pull me up! – one part half way up I did very awkwardly – made a sort of stomach traverse of it and I was hesitating on a bit near the top, but the rope wasn't slack enough for me to hesitate long!
We went down to the farm where I changed and packed, and we all had tea together before Sally and I walked down to the bus stop. Sally and Ann thought they might like to use my rope later in the week, so I left it for them; I was only too pleased to have that much less to carry!
At Keswick, I was enquiring the time of my train and was told it was the one which was just leaving, so I jumped in this train, but I could have caught a later one; as it was, I had hours to wait at Carlisle.
I was very happy till Skipton, dozing on the floor of the corridor, but I was offered a corner seat there – it wasn't nearly so comfortable.
The train didn't get in till 8 o'clock, so I had to go straight to work.
Barbara and I had lunch at the canteen and then caught a trolley bus to Wollaton Park. The others waved us off; they seemed so envious and the conductress and people in the bus all seemed to enter into the spirit of our trip. The weather couldn't have been better. At that time of the afternoon there seemed no traffic our way, no lorries with drainpipes going to Stoke, which we had been told to look out for!
Eventually an unlikely looking car stopped and when we said Derby, the driver said he could go that way, although he had intended turning off the road at Borrowash. When he heard where we really wanted to get to, he said he could help us a lot, in fact he was going to Whitchurch. He took us through Uttoxeter, Stone, Loggerheads etc. to Market Drayton, where he left us by a Shrewsbury bus. By then we decided our luck was in that day, and we needn't resort to a bus, so we started down the road. Soon a car stopped and took us some miles. We started to walk and let the bus go by. Our next lift was a little van with a pleasant, greasy driver. He landed us in Shrewsbury, a quarter of an hour before the bus was due. We were so glad for the bus driver had so looked down his nose at us when we didn't try to stop the bus.
We had some tea in the town and left about 6 o'clock, and started along the Holyhead road. We had hardly left the town before we got a lift on a milk lorry; unfortunately, our lorry was going to Welshpool and we only had 1½ miles ride. We were sorry to get off for we were enjoying it among the churns.
We took the advice of the people on the lorry and waited at the corner where the two roads branched. We didn't seem to have any luck, there just wasn't any traffic going our way. We were, of course, pretty untidy by then, but that didn't stop us hailing anything that passed. We even 'thumbed' a most wonderful green Alvis open sports car. The driver looked so snooty in his dark glasses, so we got the shock of our lives when he stopped. When we said we were for Nant Ffrancon he said we were in luck, for he was for Bettws-y-coed. What a grand ride it was, cruising at 60, touching 75 and passing the few cars that there were on the road. The driver was as nice as his car, too. He climbed when the fishing wasn't much good. Of course, he much preferred cycling up, but the car got him there quicker!
It was a wonderful first view of the hills; the sun was in our eyes, so the hills were silhouettes. The Snowdon Horseshoe was easily recognisable and to the north were the Carnedds with silver clouds behind. At Bettws, I wouldn't have blamed the driver if he had stopped round the corner for us to get out, but no, he drew up outside his hotel.
We started to walk, but a car soon stopped; it was a local young couple and the wife was having driving lessons. When they learned where we were for, they thought they might as well come our way and they took us a mile or so beyond Capel Curig. We walked about a couple of miles to Chapel House from there.
What a wonderful walk that was, walking right into the heart of the hills, which looked even more wonderful as it was getting dark. It was a wonderful feeling, we hadn't a care in the world. Three whole days before us and we weren't even tied down to sleep anywhere.
We called at Mrs. Jones' at Chapel House and asked if we could sleep on her floor. She wouldn't hear of that; she insisted that we had her bed, while she slept in with the kiddy – her first thought that we must be hungry and she got us some food.
After breakfast we spoke to Mrs. Jones and she agreed to keep us till Monday. It was a glorious day and I followed Barbara's example and put on sun top and shorts, although I felt rather incongruous carrying a rope. The Milestone was handy so we started up that, up the Direct (I was still under the impression that the right hand route was the easiest!). Barbara wasn't used to her boots, so she thought one climb was enough and we scrambled the rest of the way up Tryfan. On the Milestone, we saw our driver of the day before going up Tryfan with fishing rod! – he shouted something to us, it sounded like 'see you at Ogwen', but we didn't see him again.
We came down past Llyn Bochlwyd to Ogwen Cottage for tea; we went in as Jess Jones was coming out. After tea we called at the hostel and found that it had been full the night before. At the roadside café we started to speak to Bob and Eric, two young lads from Manchester University; they came quite a long way back with us, and ended by asking us to 'dinner' in their barn the next night.
It rained in the night, but cleared up and was a lovely day before we set out. We went to the Slabs, where we found Bob and Eric. They started up 'Charity' and we put on rubbers for 'Hope', but we had only got up the first pitch when the Cadet came down, so we came back. We took an hour to get the stretcher to the ambulance, and then sat on the lawn of the hostel, drinking tea.
After more tea at the Café we went down to the barn for our 'dinner' – we felt rather guilty about eating their bacon ration etc. There was a shower of rain while we were in the barn, but it cleared up before we had to start for Chapel House.
Back at Mrs. Jones' we found cold pork etc. waiting for us, although she only charged us for bed and breakfast.
Again it poured before we got up, but cleared before we left, and we seemed to dodge the showers all the way back.
After breakfast we were down by the stream getting a bucket of water for Mrs. Jones when a taxi drew up for the people to get out. Barbara spoke to the driver and he turned round and drew up outside Chapel House and waited while we fetched our rucksacks. All the way down to Bethesda Barbara was thanking him for giving us a lift, so he didn't charge us anything when he left us at the bus stop at Bethesda.
We started walking towards Bangor, but stopped the bus when it came along (4d fare into the town). We had to start back the way we had come from Bangor, cars weren't at all plentiful and everyone we spoke to told us about the rail strike. Eventually we did get a lift, but only for a mile or so; the driver said with our packs he should think anyone would take pity on us and stop, so the lift was cheering, even if not so much help.
We walked quite a way (for us that was) and we began to wonder whether we should have to stop the next bus, when just what we had been longing for came along – a milk lorry came along and stopped. It was grand sitting on the churns on that glorious morning – a wonderful sky of sun and clouds. The tide was right up and we felt that the spray was blowing almost right up to us – and the sea would have been out of sight in a car.
We thought it was our mission in life to cheer up everyone's bank holiday! There was hardly a single person, man or woman, who wouldn't grin back at us! Once we dropped some churns, stopping outside a house where there were two very prim and proper old dears sitting in the window. They waved most enthusiastically, and renewed their waving when we started off again.
Our lift took us almost to Rhyl, where we had something to eat before starting to look hopeful again. Our army lorry came along very soon. It was a covered lorry, but we could still grin at people out the back. This lorry picked up just everyone who wanted a lift; there were three others when we got in but they were only for Rhyl, later two others were picked up, and that was all.
We were put down 8 miles from Chester, again on a bus route. We had decided to catch the next bus, but our luck wasn't quite as bad as that, for our police car came along before the bus. We were so surprised when it stopped that at first we didn't realise it was for us!
We only went to the outskirts of Chester, for they were Flintshire police and couldn't take us over the county border. They left us by the bus stop and we had a second bus ride into the town.
It was nearly 4 o'clock, so we had something to eat and then started 'thumbing' cars, even before we had left the town. One we tried to stop, I think it was partly to cheer up the two men in it, they looked so serious, and not at all the lift giving sort. However, they stopped. We said 'Crewe', they said 'Nantwich', so we got in saying we were really for Nottingham. They said that was interesting for they were going to Derby.
At first the driver (Bill) kept nattering about wanting some tea and the other one (Dick) tried to pull our leg. He supposed we'd say tomorrow that we'd walked all this way etc.
Soon Barbara made our usual remarks about farming, and they were so interested, Dick and I were rather out of it, but Bill and Barbara seemed to know a lot about it. We had tea in Stowe and then a ride round Derbyshire - Leek, Ashbourne etc. to Ripley, where they left us at 9 o'clock.
We got in a trolley bus, hoping it would take us to Nottingham, but it was only for Langley Mills – we went to the station, but the last train drew out as we arrived.
We started to walk the last 9½ miles; it was practically dark, so we were afraid our happy faces would no longer be any use. We needn't have worried, a car soon stopped – it had a middle aged couple in it who had been to Beresford Dale for the day. They hastened to assure us that the bottles rolling bout in the back were what they had taken their water in to boil in the kettle (afraid we should think that they were beer bottles). They were only going to Hucknall; however, we just managed to catch the bus from there, and arrived back at 10.15 – in time to cook ourselves some supper.
I met Arthur, John, Jack and Bernard at the L.M.S. station where we caught the 4.30. We picked up Ken at Derby before going on to Crewe. Although we didn't get to Crewe till about 9 o'clock we were able to get a dinner at the Station Hotel.
The Inverness train was crowded, but Arthur and I were able to stretch out under the luggage rack at the end of the compartment and I slept well till Perth, our first stop. At Perth, I got a seat, and wrote a couple of letters; I was glad to be able to see out – how I wished I had explored all that country before going to Skye. It was a wonderful run, sunrise over the Cairngorm, and all that.
At Inverness we followed Bernard to a café for a snack (it was too late for breakfast) – they were delicious meat pies. We met Cyril in the middle of Inverness and found that he also was for Macrae's.
We followed the route to Kyle on the map, I wished I had felt a little more wide awake to appreciate it all. At Kyle of Lockalsh we got on the ferry where we met Chris who had picked up our train.
At Kyleakin we found a bus expecting people for Macrae's and it took us to Sligachen where there were a couple of cars waiting for us. John, Arthur and I were in the second smaller car; we hadn't gone far before a tyre burst – not surprising on those roads! The jack took a bit of understanding, but after that the tyre was quickly changed.
The Cuillins were in a sort of heat haze; I wondered whether I should see them at all during my stay. It was wonderful to see people coming off the hills and hear that they had had their shirts off all day etc. Nancy showed us to our rooms and then we strolled up by the stream before dinner. John and Harold came in later, after their day on the 'the Dubhs' and Jess and Stan arrived by car from Sligachan after all (their motor boat from Mallaig had left without them!).
It was another lovely day, hazy at first but clearer later. We set out for Sron na Ciche, and stopped at the foot of the Cioch direct. John G. and Chris decided to do this in rubber – I was most envious of them. Arthur decided to take Jack and Ken up Collie's Climb. I was asked what I wanted to do – I wasn't all together in favour of Arthur's idea of using our one fine day for rock climbing only, so I was rather vague, but sounded enthusiastic over a suggestion of going up to the Cioch first of all. I found that that landed me with Cyril and John C. John persuaded us to start up a gully he wanted to explore. After he had watched Cyril go up a difficult place he decided it was the wrong gully and wanted to go down. I thought I would prefer to go on with Cyril than desert him like John was going to, so we roped up, and went up a little higher. Soon John joined us again, having come up another gully, but he decided the way wouldn't 'go', so we all came down together, and up the ordinary way to the Cioch Slab. John led me and Cyril up the Corner Route – I found it satisfyingly difficult.
At the top of the Cioch we met Chris and John; John wanted Chris to climb with him and left the other John to take Cyril and me up Thompson's route up Sron na Ciche. All this seemed real climbing to me, certainly the way was scratched alright, but it was no blazed trail as I am used to them in the English hills – and the views over the rocks – thousands of feet of rocks instead of the hundreds I am used to. By this time the tops were quite clear, and from Sron na Ciche we had such wonderful views over the sea, over Rhum etc. and occasionally out to the Outer Isles. We went on to the top of Sgumain where we met Bernard with Jess and Stan. They had come from the Cioch which they had reached via the Cioch Gully. We went on with them up Alasdair. We roped for the Bad Step; John (still in rubbers) led it first. We all fiddled on it before we finally got up it, Cyril (also leading) was the best.
Jess and Stan were going down the Stone Shoot, but I wanted to do some more ridge walking, besides having more respect for my boots. It was quite a little scramble to get onto the Thearlaich Ridge, and the ridge walking was what I had first hoped to find on Striding Edge and then on Crib Goch etc. We went up Mhic Coinnich via King's Chimney, which I found a very satisfying little climb. It looks impossible from below, but actually the climb traverses right to avoid the overhang. That traverse looks impossible, but actually the holds are quite adequate (at least they were on that lovely sunny day). At the col between Mhic Coinnich and Dearg, John decided to go down to pick up his boots at the foot of the Cioch direct; Cyril and I accompanied him, leaving Bernard to finish the Corrie Lagan round – over the Inaccessible and Dearg.
I didn't envy John going down the screes in rubbers, but he managed fine. We found it an easy traverse along to the Sron na Ciche side and so down the way we had come up in the morning. I was just in time for dinner.
That evening the weather was totally different from what it had been the evening before, so we knew the six weeks of fine weather had broken at last, but we planned the next assuming that it would be fine. John C. was leaving, so we were going in the car with him to Sligachan.
We set out at 7.45 to Sligachen. The tops were in mist, but it didn't seem too bad a day. Harold chose his own way to get to the foot of the hills and we didn't see him again till the evening. Joh, Ken, Chris, Cyril and I followed Arthur. We went up the route to the Pinnacle Ridge marked on the photo in the book. The top of the first pinnacle was just in the mist. As we got higher we found that the wind was very strong and gusty, and there was some heavy rain.
We found the rock very loose and the wind didn't make it any more pleasant. We couldn't see the drops below because of the mist and so missed half of the attraction of the place (or so I should imagine). At one place we roped up for a little chimney; we thought we should be coming back that way so we left some things at the foot of it and lost quite a lot of time finding our way back to it to recover them. Cyril was a marvel, any little peak we might have bypassed, he had to go up and he was very disappointed when we decided it wasn't quite the day for the Bhastier Tooth. Chris and I and a few others came to the conclusion that it wasn't practicable to go on along the ridge in that weather (we were so slow, if nothing else) and thought we ought to go back to Sligachan. When we suggested it to Arthur, we were very surprised that he agreed, and we cut down towards Glen Sligachan. We soon got onto a path and also got below the mist. We found it was quite a nice day below the clouds and followed Cyril's suggestion that we should walk home over the pass instead of phoning for a car to meet us at Slig. It was a good suggestion, for we kept warm walking and our clothes were almost dry by the time we got home. It was a wonderful burn we went up by the side of, lovely colours of water, heather, bracken etc. It was rather a monotonous way home along the road (so called) and it wasn't helped by the fact that I can't keep up with Arthur. We varied the walk, firstly by crossing the bridge over the stream (it was better if several were on it together, it didn't sway so much) and then we called in at the hostel. Back at Macrae's we were amused by listening to the activities of the 'beachcombers'
The weather was the same as the day before, so we set of up Coire Banachdich and roped up for Window Buttress. Jack and I followed Arthur, and all the others came on various ropes later. At the top of the window we had lunch, but it wasn't a very warm place for it. It was quite a horrid day by then, so we roped up again for the last part of the climb. We went over the top of Dearg and then down to the Pinnacle, it really was a thrill to see it loom up out of the mist, so steep and unclimbable.
Some of them decided not to do it; I was undecided till I remembered it was the 11th September. I asked the time – nearly 4.0 I was told; this was too good to miss, so I tied myself on the rope as near the front as I could. The others didn't realise how that climb aged me; I was in my early twenties when I went up, I came down and was getting on for thirty!
We very much admired Bernard's lead up the west route in those conditions. The difficult way was the most sheltered, the east route had the full force of the wind. At the top we found that the weather on the easy way wasn't quite as bad as we expected, so we decided to split the party. Bernard took Ken and John down the short way and Chris took Arthur and me down the easier long way.
We were a long time getting down, we made very short pitches of it, partly for safety and partly because the rope was short. The belays weren't all that could be desired in some places, but I thoroughly enjoyed it, as usual. When I should have been cold and wet and miserable I seemed to get more and more cheerful. Although it wasn't in the least warm, it didn't seem to me nearly as cold as I have it in the Lakes in the so-called summer, e.g. I wasn't in the least numb.
At the bottom we found all the others waiting; they hadn't been able to get down to Coire Lagan, so had come back – we went over the top of Dearg and down a slope of scree and vegetation which landed us eventually in Coire Lagan instead of Coire Banachdich as we were expecting. We came home along the same track as we had used on Sunday – it was a little more boggy. I had wondered on Sunday what it would be like in the wet.
The tops were clear first thing, but it was obvious that it wouldn't last. We were asked to get down to the boat in good time before the tide changed. Our things were very wet from the day before so some people decided not to come.
John, Arthur, Jack, Ken, Chris and I, and four people from the post office, went by boat round to Coruisk. I had a little talk with the man about boats, learned that the one we were on was a 24 ft boat worth £2/10/- a foot! It was a grand ride, the mist was on the top of the Cuillins by then, but there were wonderful views over Rhum and to the mainland etc. There was an interesting swell on by the time we rounded the headland, but we were soon in the shelter of Soay. We were landed near the 'chimney' - all that remains of a house! We walked along by the lake and had lunch at the foot of the ridge up to Sgurr Dubh Beag. We thoroughly enjoyed the scramble up the slabs, such grand rock to grip (although by the end of the day our finger tips were nearly worn out!). We kept stopping to admire the view back over Coruisk to the mainland where more and more hills were coming into view. All too soon we got into the mist. At the top of the Dubhs we couldn't at first find a continuation of the ridge, there was an obvious way down on the right and we started down it, hoping soon to traverse back to the ridge, but there were no signs of a way, so we looked at the compass. This was completely hay-wire; it would only point to the rock (at the top it hadn't been too bad, for there wasn't any rock it could point to). We looked at the book and saw that the way straight on along the ridge involved an abseil. Arthur remembered that Marjorie had tried this and hadn't been able to recover the rope (her day had ended with a night out!). We went back to the top and went to the west and found the top of the abseil, but agreed that it would need an abseil, so we tried to find the detour to the south which the book mentioned as an alternative.
There was no track down, but the way was possible. Soon we were able to traverse to the west, eventually coming up what I thought of as a 'garden path' onto the ridge. At the top of the next summit we again had a job to find the way down, the compass still preferring to point to the rock than to the north.
There were such interesting pieces of scrambling, how I wished we could have had the views. It wasn't a bad day, misty and a fair breeze, but I kept very warm. We seemed to eat innumerable pears along the ridge. We passed the screes down to Corrie a’ Ghrunndha and went on along the ridge.
After a look at the Thearlaich Dubh Gap we turned back and started down the screes. We seemed to get down to the upper corrie very quickly – suddenly in the mist we came to the shores of a lake – John brightly tasted the water and announced that it was fresh! It was getting dusk by then so we were all very pleased to be off the ridge before dark. We found a path to follow round the lake and fortunately we followed that a little better than we had followed the way along the ridge. The path took us up to the chimney which is the way down from the upper corrie. It was practically dark by then. We went straight back across the moor, didn't attempt to find the Corrie Lagan Path. As we approached Macrea's, it was a very homely sight to see the lamp in the window. We got in at 9 o'clock – dinner went down good.
This day was just like the others, the mist was on the Cuillins, but it was practically fine everywhere else. Someone had the bright idea of getting a car and going to some other part of the island.
Arthur suggested the Storr Rocks, I suggested Dunvegan Castle. Cyril said that the castle was open on a Thursday. We couldn't decide what to do, so thought we would try to fit in both. Gideon drove Arthur, Cyril, John, Chris, Jack and me. We went through Portree where we stopped for some petrol. We bought some postcards and had a look at the harbour.
The car stopped fairly near the Old Man of Storr and we walked up to it and had our lunch. We didn't think much of the rocks round there from the climbing point of view; the pinnacle was absolutely rotten - I couldn't understand why it was still standing.
There had been a recent large fall of rock from the main cliffs, so it looked as though that was just as rotten. We continued along to the Kilt Rock, where Gideon stopped for us to have a look at the peculiar formation. All day there were unbelievable views we had over the sea – to the mainland, or over islands or other parts of Skye. There was an interesting sky all the time too. At Staffin Bay we left the choice of the route with Gideon. He chose the moorland road, he hadn't been that way before and it was shorter. The car didn't mind the gradient and the hairpin bends – we looked down one gully and saw a car upside down down it! Coming down the other side, Gideon took one part very steady. We felt the road slipping away under us; I shouldn't think it would be passable in a few week's time. We went as fast as the roads would allow to Dunvegan. We arrived at the castle about a quarter to five, but firstly we had to wait while the guide finished with another party, and secondly the guide seemed to have to get us out before 5 o'clock, so our visit was short and sweet. A very nice tea was laid in the dining room! It was the drawing room that so charmed me, it was so cosy, although so old. It was decorated with the fairy flag, the horn etc. We had a quick look at the dungeon and sea gate etc. before being hustled out. We had tea at the village and came straight back by car.
Nancy let Donaldson and Murray stay to dinner. They had helped Bernard down. At 10 o'clock they drove Barnard first to see the old doctor at Carbost, and then on to the hospital at Broadford.
The weather was worse than usual; there were heavy showers besides the usual mist on the hills. Our two friends from the hostel spent most of the day with us. We spent the morning indoors. We toasted our sandwiches; it made them almost appetising! In the afternoon we thought it time we stretched our legs so John, Arthur and I set out along the sea shore. Stan came with us as far as the bridge, where he stopped to watch the fishermen – one the men staying at the post office. We paddled in the sea and tried to wade across the river, but it was too deep and we had to go up to the bridge.
We went in the post office, but there was no-one in the shop so we knocked at the door of the house – it was a great thrill to have it opened by Dr. Odell. He fetched Mrs. Chisholm and we went back to the shop. My ¼ lb. of sweets was more like ½ lb.!
We spent the evening being amused by 'Ithuriel's Hour' - 'buttoning his Jaeger waistcoat over a sore heart' etc.
The bus called for us at 7.15 and took us, together with the people from the post office, and some from the hostel, to Slig. We had ages to wait for the bus here, but it came eventually and took us to Kyleakin, where the Ferry was waiting. We had quite a long trip across, we went round in circles until a larger boat got out of our way.
At Achnashellach, John and Arthur left us to walk over to Inver Alligin – how we envied them, it was the hills near that station which had fascinated us so on our journey out. Our sandwiches didn't last us very long and we were glad of the food that Jack and Ken could get from the forces canteens along the way.
We left Chris at Inverness and Ken, Jack and I were left to go back to Nottingham together. It was again a lovely run to Perth, with the sun setting this time, but I wasn't really interested in it. At one point, Ken and I got out maps and guide to continue our argument about the view on one of the postcards.
At Carlisle we caught the Leeds/Nottingham train and I slept well on the floor.
Bernard, Jess and Stan got on our train at Sheffield and we saw them at Nottingham. They had come L.M.S.
I caught the 8.05 train to Derby and changed into the Tamworth train, which I found was the 9.06 from Nottingham. It was misty and cold at Tamworth; I sat in the waiting room and read for as long as possible, but the light went lower and lower till eventually it went out, and we all sat in the dark. Some bright spark lit a newspaper in the grate – at least it looked cheerful while it lasted. The train did eventually come, I hadn't a seat but I slept soundly on the floor to Crewe. We were hours late at Crewe, not arriving till 2.20. My connection, due out at 2.10 didn't come till 3.30, so I had an hour to wait in the fog at the station.
We eventually got to Windermere at 8.30. I was walking out of the station when I was asked where I was going. I hadn't decided which to try first for breakfast, Elleray or Riggs, and was wondering what to say when it dawned on me I was really for Langdale and when I said this he asked me which part, and seemed to know Wall End. By this time he had found his car and I realised I was going to have a lift up the valley. That was what had so puzzled me, I couldn't understand why anyone coming off the train should have their car parked at the station, but I soon learned that Frank had been to London and back in 24 hours.
We stopped at Thrang Close, where I had a cup of tea and met Frank's mother, and young Philip, before Frank took me on to Wall End. Miss Smith and the guests seemed to know Frank quite well. I didn't arrive till 9 o'clock, but Miss Smith had saved my breakfast. I soon found Wyn who had come the night before and Rosl who informed me that she and Les and Bill were climbing with me.
After breakfast, Wyn and I set out for Gimmer, accompanied by Rosl, Len, Bill and Susan. It didn't really seem a Gimmer day. It was thick mist, the same as I had had for 24 hours, but we took rubbers with us and hoped the rocks would be dry. Halfway up it seemed to get brighter, and then we could see blue sky above us, a few more steps and we were out of the mist, looking down onto it. It was such a deep blue sky and the sun was really hot, but the view! I was right back to Scotland again, to the Western Isles – the sea was white, certainly, but they were such wonderful rocky islands coming out of it, and we could see the breakers on the shore, so it seemed. The colours too - what I've missed never having seen the October bracken in the Lakes. We had several hours of the view above the mist before the mist eventually cleared and then it was like a hot summer day.
We stopped at the foot of Bracket and Slab, and Wyn and I changed to rubbers. None of the others wanted to lead the climb, after us, so, as we only had two ropes, that meant we could only take one other person, and Rosl roped on behind Wyn. Wyn and I got up the first pitch and I thought that Rosl (in boots) would either be good and find it easy, or realise it was beyond her and go back, but I reckoned without her enthusiasm. She realised it was too difficult in boots so, on the first ledge she came to she took them off, threw them down and came on barefoot! Rosl found the Bracket particularly difficult, but how she got up it at all with nothing on her feet, I couldn't understand. At the top of the Bracket I suggested Rosl could go down the traverse, she was only too pleased. I went climbing up and suddenly realised that I was at the top of the next bit, but there is a good belay up there, and there isn't at the foot of it so I stayed up there and brought Wyn up to the foot of it and held her while she brought Rosl up and let her down the traverse.
Poor Rosl, she found the traverse so difficult at one point she says she was swinging on the rope, although Wyn says there was no strain on the rope. She slowly made her way down the traverse till she came to the last step. Bill and Les were waiting at the bottom of it, but that didn't seem to help her. Eventually I tied Wyn's rope onto my belay and started to come down the chimney, but before I had got very far I learned that Rosl was down, so I went back and Wyn and I finished the climb together. When it came to a choice of the two chimneys, Wyn rather encouraged me to choose the 'very hard, very strenuous and also very wet' one – she obviously hadn't heard as much about it as I had, but I wanted to try it for it was in perfect condition.
It wasn't too bad, certainly several times I found myself panting, but I was always on good holds so that I could rest before going on to the next bit. It is a lovely chimney, you get a real sense of exposure on it.
We came down Oliversons, the Crows Nest is more difficult to find than I expected, but from there the route is obvious. I felt rather sorry for Wyn, having such a thoughtless leader - at the top of Forty Foot Corner, I had to tell her that was where Rhys had pulled me bodily up and that put her off entirely, especially as she was tired by then, but she managed fine.
We found the others still waiting for us. We thought it had been a dull day for them, but apparently watching us was more amusing than we had realised. It seemed they could hear everything we said and they were sorry for Rosl, for they said Wyn and I were gossiping as though we were sitting over a morning cup of coffee and had quite forgotten Rosl who was struggling on the climb.
We got down to the D.G. about 6 o'clock and had a shandy with our lunch. We hadn't any money on us so we had to come back after supper to settle up. Dr. Sutcliffe, whom Cyril Bullman was making use of to help behind the bar, got into conversation with us. He wanted to know what we had done, and when he heard that we had chosen the difficult chimney he started trying to discuss 'vd's' with us – we quickly disillusioned him. When we said we hadn't any plans for the next day he said what a pity it was Sunday the next day or we could bus round to Dow. We thought that an excellent idea for Monday, so Sutcliffe said that when he got back to the new D.G. he would look up our bus from Coniston to Windermere in the evening and ring us up to let us know. He told us there was a bus at 5.35, which was just right for us.
It was another lovely day, but mist on the tops first thing. Wyn and I were rather undecided what to do when Frank arrived. We wanted to follow Frank, but it was a long time before we could persuade him to lead us for a walk – it seems on Saturday I had given him the impression that Wyn and I were climbers only, and not walkers.
We started through Stool End looking forward to a new way up Bowfell, but then the mist cleared on the top of the Pikes, so we changed our direction and crossed on the stepping stones.
We started up the slope to Pike o'Stickle, as Frank quoted from Baddeley it was 'the steepest slope for the longest distance' in the Lakes. We had lunch below the rocks, the sardines and dates helped down yesterday's sandwiches. There was some interesting scrambling and then a grand slab. I went up the easy way and gave Wyn a rope down for the interesting way. The joy of these slabs was that they were unscratched. Frank got in a good position and really enjoyed watching Wyn on the slabs. We then went on up Pike o'Stickle Gully. We roped for the first pitch and then scrambled. Fancy to find Foxgloves in bloom in October right up there, and there was one growing just through the cave.
If I ever used my knees on little bits of scrambling, Bill had to do them without. Apparently he had watched us the day before and made suitable remarks about 'the weaker sex' and eventually decided there was no need to give up his seat in a bus to ladies in future.
From the top of the Pike we went on, over Pavey Ark and down Jack's Rake, over Blea Rigg and down to Thrang Close. We were only just off the hills before dark. Frank got us tea and scones and then drove us back to Wall End.
We packed our things, had early breakfast and caught the bus. Frank had asked us to wave to Thrang Close as we passed, so we were very disappointed when there was nobody there, but needn't have worried, Frank was waiting at the bus stop and suggested that he should run us over to Coniston, and save us the hours' wait for the bus at Skelwith Bridge. We waited while Frank had his breakfast, but what a privilege to wait in Frank's garden, for it's from there that the view of the Pikes is taken. It was windy and cloudy that day, but the clouds were high and it was a wonderful view. Also there were the gentians to find in the garden and the little rock problem, not to mention Philips fish pond. We soon set off and got to Coniston before 9 o'clock – we thought of the others at Wall End still having breakfast! We left our rucksacks and the car at the station and walked to the Crag – we were too busy listening to Frank to remember the way. Fortunately Frank put us right, although he didn't like interfering with our route finding!
Frank came with us to the foot of our climb and then went back for he had promised to take Phillip out in the afternoon. We were sorry when he went, but in one way we thought it was a good job he didn't know us any better or he would be so disappointed in us; he thought we had got so much initiative etc. to think of coming to Dow. It sounded so good we thought it a pity to explain that it was Dr. Sutcliffe's idea!
We started up 'D' ordinary in boots, but I couldn't do the step across so came down and changed into rubbers – that made a lot of difference. We hoped Frank didn't see us come down for he had planned to have a last view of us climbing up into the mist. The day was cold – the two days before, I had got so tired of carrying a woolly and not needing it that I didn't bother about it this day, when I could have done with it. Despite the mist towards the top of the Crag, the rocks were beautifully dry.
From the top of 'D' ordinary, we found our way down 'South Chimney' to the Amphitheatre. I hadn't been that way before – it was quite an inspiring place, to look up at all the super climbs. It was an interesting way down from the amphitheatre; I felt quite sorry for Wyn, I am the only person I know who prefers climbing down, I find it (usually) so much easier, so I have started planning my ways down as well as the ascents. Wyn had to do these climbs down, although she agrees with everyone else that it is more difficult.
We went down to the cave and found Ron had arrived; he had cycled over from Langdale and spent the last hour exploring, while waiting for us. We had lunch together and then took Ron up Woodhouses. Wyn and I had enjoyed this so much when we did it with Rhys and it was nice sort of being able to show it to Ron. Ron was the only one who managed the last little bit – I went round it with the rope as I couldn't get up it.
We collected our things at the cave and went down to the station. Even that walk down seemed wonderful; it was a dull day, but somehow the bracken was such a lovely colour that the hills were as bright as if the sun was shining on them. It was an interesting sky too. At the station we changed and packed our rucksack, hurried down to the bus stop, where as arrived 10 minutes before we expected the bus, only to be told that the time was altered and the bus had gone. We started walking along the road, hoping to get a lift, but there was no traffic, so we made enquiries about a taxi and learned that the bus hadn't gone after all. At Windermere we couldn't get a meal at Elleray's, so went to Riggs. They were so good to us there, served us before their guests, some of whom were in evening dress etc. I caught the 8 o'clock train with Wyn as far as Oxenholme and waited for my train there.
NEW YEAR: BORROWDALE
Barbara and I set out at about 2 o'clock, after a meal at the canteen. Despite the rain early, we had our usual lovely weather. The lorry at the Canteen going to Preston set out without us, so we started walking through the town. Before we had got as far as Parliament Street, a lorry stopped (without being asked) and offered us a lift. We put our packs on the paving stones on the back and got in the front and rode until our road diverged from the Mansfield road. We were walking back to the Ollerton Road when another lorry driver stopped without being asked and offered us a lift. He took us nearly to Bawtry. He was a queer specimen, warning us against trying to hitch after dark and full of tales of girls and black men etc. and finally announcing that he had a gun, and producing some of the cartridges for us to see. We weren't too fond of his lorry either – the sheep skins smelt rather. Our next lift was in an army lorry, a civilian driver was taking it to Durham. It had disadvantages – there was only one seat for the two of us and it wasn't padded, also it wasn't particularly fast, and until he got the blackout taken off his headlight with a tin opener, we thought he wouldn't be able to drive in the dark. But he was such a nice little man and so considerate that we enjoyed the lift no end. His father used to keep the George Barrow Hotel at Ponter-wyd. He waited sometime at Bawtry to see if the other two lorries would catch up, but we didn't see anything of them. We went on through Doncaster and left the A1 at Brotherton and went through York. Here he stopped and left Barbara and me to get a cup of tea. As he explained, he wasn't T.T. We had a tour of the city, trying to get out of York, but eventually managed it and went on to Thirsk, where we stopped again. We left him in Darlington; he insisted on driving us round to the station and even wanted to take us up to the station approach. It was about 9 o'clock by then and we found there was a train to Kirkby Stephen soon after 10 o'clock. There are people with imagination in Darlington. There was a Christmas tree decorated on the station, and in the refreshment room there was even mistletoe among the decorations.
After much consideration we took our tickets to Bowes; we had two objections to Kirkby Stephen, firstly it is off the main road and secondly we didn't want to cross the Pennines in the train, for that was to be the high spot of our journey. We chose Bowes because it seemed to be on the main road and just a nice distance into the Pennines. In the train we started talking to a soldier 'Les' who wanted to go back to Arabia after the war. Then a whole crowd of soldiers got in and we had an amusing journey. All but Les got out at Broomielaw; when we asked him why he hadn't done so, he said he was coming with us to see that we got somewhere to spend the night. We asked where he would suggest and he said Broomielaw, so we jumped out almost as the train was starting again.
It was a lovely night, cold but starlit and I almost wished we had gone to Bowes and walked all night. We got quite comfortable on the floor and weren't too cold, and set out about 6 o'clock the next morning. It was a grand morning, very frosty underfoot and clear starlit sky with the last of the moon. It was a good 2 miles into Barnard Castle. In the town I had the greatest difficulty in keeping my feet, the ground was so iced. We asked the way and were directed by a footpath by the Castle to the Bowes Road. We seemed to walk uphill for miles; it was still a lovely day, although the size of the black cloud in the east was increasing. I enjoyed the walk far more than Barbara, for her knee was hurting before long. We got a lift the last 2 miles into Bowes – the only traffic along our road, but we joined the A66 at Bowes and hoped there would be more traffic. We got a lift for a few miles in a lorry which was going to throw grit on the road. While we were waiting for it to pick up some men, I went for a walk by myself. It was simply grand up there, out of sight of the road, with Kinder-like moorland as far as you can see in every direction and it was almost time for the sun to rise too. When I got back to the others I found that the grit-throwers plans had been altered and they weren't coming any further our way, so Barbara and I started to walk again. Soon a lorry came long, there was no room in the cabin and the stuff on the back was piled up as high as the cabin, so there was no shelter on it, but Jock offered us a lift and we accepted. The sun had risen by then, and the cloud had spread a considerable distance over the sky and before long we were in the mist. Barbara wrapped her blanket round herself and I had on my home guard cape to keep warm. We went through Brough and Appleby and when we dropped the soldier who was also having a lift, we were able to get inside the cabin. Before Penrith, Jock stopped for breakfast. We only had cups of tea, but when we saw Jock's lovely plate of breakfast, we wished we had had the same. Jock left us at Penrith and we started walking towards the Keswick road when a car stopped and offered us a lift, but warned us that he was in a hurry. What a driver, he knew every inch of the road and took every bump and turn and the maximum speed possible, he does the 30 miles to Cockermouth in 40 minutes! At Keswick, we went in Storms for a cup of coffee and, of course, met Marjorie Steele and Carol. Marjorie for Newlands and Carol for Glaramara.
Barbara and I had a wash and had a shock to see ourselves after 24 hours without a wash. We started walking towards Borrowdale and Barbara had just decided that, with her knee, she couldn't get any further, when an ambulance came along. We were surprised when he stopped for us, but he was a most amusing man. "Where have you come from?" "Nottingham". "Yes, I knew you had. I had a card from there yesterday" and so he went on, foretelling where we would be going each day. He took us right up to the door and even lifted us out of the ambulance.
We found that Ed and Arthur had just arrived, they had got to Keswick just before us, at 11 o'clock. Mrs. Cockbain soon got our lunch ready and we set out in the afternoon up Grey Knotts. Arthur and I soon left Barbara and Ed behind and we went on to the foot of Gillercombe. We looked at the beginning of the chimney, but decided it was too wet, so we started scrambling up to the left of the climbs – mostly among heather. Half way up we came across a C.H.A. rucksack. We roped at one point. It was getting dark before we got to the top of the scrambling, so we hurried down once we came to an easy way and then got down Sour Milk Gill as quickly as possible.
We kept to the left hand side of the stream and joined the road at the bridge.
In the evening we took the rucksack to Glaramara and looked round the place. We met Carol again and she seemed so keen that we asked her to come climbing with us the next day.
It was a perfect day, frosty under foot, but clear sky and sun above. We set out up the Honister Road and turned off at the top to go between Fleetwith Pike and Grey Knotts to the Scarth Gap. We had lunch on the way, in the sunshine. Below High Crag, we decided to split, Barbara and Ed to take their time getting to Buttermere for tea and Carol, Arthur and I to go on to Birkness Combe and hope to climb.
The three of us went at a good speed to the rocks, but it was 4 o'clock before we got to the foot of our climb, and we still intended to try it! 'Barn Door Buttress' is a moderate, so we hoped it would be suitable, although the rocks were slightly iced. I was in the middle of the rope and Carol on the end. We got up several pitches and then I saw that there was an easy way off from where we were standing, but I didn't say anything. We all went on up the little chimney and Arthur went on to look at the next pitch. By then it was practically dark and he couldn't see the holds and was glad of my suggestion of the easy way off, so we came down again. It had been a grand climb though for a long time the sun had been shining on the distant hills – I remember it just caught the snow on one of the peaks of Bencathra. Then the sun went and it gradually got dark. There was no moon, but the stars were very bright and the frost on the ground made it much lighter. We plunged straight down the hillside (Arthur doesn't believe in paths!) and, when we got to the bottom, the others thought we should go to Buttermere in case Barbara and Ed were waiting. We called in three places, but couldn't even get a cup of tea (it was 7 o'clock and they were busy with dinners). We phoned up Mrs. Cockbain and said we should be late for dinner and set out over the Honister Pass. The ice on the road was worse on the Borrowdale side. I suddenly felt so helpless when I realised on a steep bit of road that I was in the middle of a huge patch of ice (where a stream crossed the road), but we managed to keep our feet. When we got in there was a lovely hot meal ready for us (9 o'clock), although on the phone Mrs. Cockbain had warned us it would be cold.
I was so sorry for Carol, I hope we haven't put her off climbing; she said afterwards that she had been terrified on the climb, but she hadn't shown it. She said she thought I hadn't seemed worried. Apparently she and Arthur had both been having visions of our not getting home that night. Such a thing had never occurred to me; it just struck me that it was a lovely night and what did it matter if we didn't get home till midnight.
Douglas and Robin drove over from Derwent Bank and we went towards Glaramara. The one mountain in the lakes which stayed in the mist all day, as it turned out. We had lunch at the caves; I thought that at last I would be able to explore the caves, but no, no-one else was interested, not even Douglas, who I thought was a cave enthusiast.
We went on to the top of Glaramara and then back to Borrowdale for tea at Mrs. Cockbain's. Arthur was leaving with Douglas and Robin and I went in the car too, as I thought I would like to call in at Derwent Bank. I soon found Willy and Jock, and then Jack Judson – demobbed. It was quite like old times to seem him as Secretary. Robin dropped me at Keswick and I got in the bus back to Seatoller. Just outside Keswick, the bus stopped and the driver had to go back for some more petrol. He got a lift just before he got to the garage and the same driver brought him all the way back to the bus. We were half an hour late at Seatoller, which made me late for dinner, but Mrs. Cockbain's clock was half an hour slow and she thought I got back at 7 o'clock.
I had heard a rumour that the C.H.A. people were going to see the New Year in on the top of Great Gable, so I went round to investigate. No-one had heard of any such plan, they were going to dance it in, and before I knew what was happening someone had brought a pair or sandals and I was joining in the dancing.
After one or two dances, I thought I ought to tell the others. I met them on the road and they told me I couldn't stay, for they had promised we should be in, in half an hour and we celebrated the New Year in bed!
We asked for breakfast at 8 o'clock the next morning, thinking we should get it by half past, but Mrs. Cockbain had put her clock right and breakfast was punctual at 8 o'clock.
We walked down the valley until the bus came along and then caught it into Keswick. There we went to the bus station and caught the Windermere bus, arriving about 12. We couldn't get any coffee, so Barbara and I left Ed who was walking to Elterwater and stood at the top of the hill and hoped for a lift.
There wasn't much traffic and it was sometime before a couple in a car stopped and took us to Kendal. The car was going on to Preston, but we got out to stand on the Settle road. We wasted about an hour on this road and all we got was a lift of about a quarter of a mile. Eventually we decided to go back to the Preston road. We ran out of the side turning into the road as we heard a heavy vehicle approaching. It was a Jeep and it stopped for us and we had a lovely fast lift down to Tarporley. The Canadian told us we had better be land-girls for he wasn't supposed to give lifts, not even to English soldiers – there had been too many accidents with Canadians driving, he explained! He was a terrible driver, he'd pass something without an inch to spare and exclaim "I bet that shook him". I don't know whether he realised how it shook us too.
It was a very cold day and there was a blanket rigged up on the outside (my side) of the jeep to try to keep out a little of the draught, but it reduced visibility more than ever, for the driver was on the wrong side. I put on my cape to try to keep warm. At one point the Canadian produced a bottle of whiskey – we couldn't think what his driving would be like after he had had a little of that, but he only had a sip and we were glad of some ourselves.
It was dark by the time we got to Tarporley and we thought our best plan was to go to Crewe and get a train. We didn't have much luck at first, and thought perhaps we had better get a bus, when a wonderful car stopped, although it wasn't going our way, but it gave us renewed hope and very soon a heavy petrol lorry stopped and we got in with the driver and his 'mate' – these very young 'mates' amused us a lot. The lorry had a speed limit of about 20, but thought nothing of doing 50. We overtook another similar lorry and when our lorry driver heard where we were for he said we had better get in the second lorry which would take us to Newcastle from where we could walk to Stoke and be on the best road for Derby.
At Stoke we stood by the road for some time, but couldn't get a lift all the way. We refused one offer of a few miles, for we said that if we couldn't go all the way we would get a train from Stoke. At about 7.30 we went to the station, but the last train had gone. It was a very considerate ticket collector we spoke to, he gave us an address for bed and breakfast, but we went back to our road. We soon got a lift to Longton from a man who had spent Christmas in Borrowdale!
Our next lift was from the 'bank manager' as we thought of him, for he had been working late on New Year's Day. He was such a respectable type of person, we thought that if he would give us a lift after dark, anyone would. He left us at the level crossing and said we ought to be able to get a lift as the traffic slowed up there – but we were unlucky and were glad when a bus came along to take us to Uttoxeter. There was no traffic whatsoever through the town so we went down to the station. It was not lit, so I climbed over a wall and up to the signal box and asked if there was a train. Of course there wasn't, so I said was there a goods train. We were very surprised when he then asked me if I was alone. I said no, Barbara was below and he said he was very sorry but he couldn't do anything for me. I climbed down again and we started to walk away, when the signalman called us back and came down and told us that he had a goods train in the station at the moment waiting to go to Derby; he couldn't promise anything but he would go and speak to the guard, if we liked. He was soon back and said he had spoken to the driver who was quite willing to have us, but he would still have to speak to the guard.
We waited by the fire in the signal box (we were glad of the warm), while the signal man stopped the train when the guard was opposite the box. He asked the guard to come up to see the two 'ladies' (yes that's what he called us!) he had up there. But the guard was a misery, even the sight of us didn't change him! He said they would have to ask the control and the control said no. We went back to the town and asked for the police station. The man we asked wanted to know what we wanted for, he said, he was a policeman. We explained that we wanted to get to Derby, so he told us to go to the by-pass (we didn't know there was such a thing). As we were getting to the by-pass an army lorry came along – the first traffic we had seen since we had got to Uttoxeter and took us for half a dozen miles or so. The lorry left us on a long straight road and its headlights were shining on us as we walked up the hill. It stayed there until a heavy lorry came along. This lorry stopped for us and took us to Derby, and then we found it was going on to Nottingham, so we had a lift all the way. We were left at the end of Shakespeare Street at 11.45; we were so glad to get back the same day – it was thanks to the lorry doing about double what its speed limit allowed.