Reminiscences
Part II.  The Y.R.C

by E. E. Roberts

The Club had a very jolly Meet at Coniston at Easter 1909. This was the time E. T. W. Addyman led the first ascent of the Giant’s Crawl. Moore was there, he had succeeded the Rev. L. S. Calvert as President, also Green, Constantine, Horn and J. H. Buckley, all men it was a privilege to know and to whom the Club owes so much for creating its spirit of friendliness and independence.

The Y.R.C was formed by thirteen enthusiastic walkers in October 1892 and somehow at once gained the interest of the great Whymper and of Dent as Honorary Members. Lowe was President for a year then Slingsby reigned for ten years till 1903, bringing in three more great Alpine Club men. The Club took at once to mountaineering and in his restricted Alpine career Lowe was led by the Hopkinsons and Slingsby on a brilliant new traverse of the Nesthorn.

It was the era when classical climbs were being created, examples were the Eagle’s Nest Arete and Moss Gill in 1892. Haskett-Smith’s book was published in ’94 and Owen Glynne Jones’ in 1897.

John Birkbeck had led an outburst of pot-holing about 1848, and in 1872 had been lowered to the ledge in Gaping Gill. Alum Pot, which he did in 1848 and in 1870, was the only big gulf completely explored, though Rowten Pot had been attacked and of course Eldon Hole in Derbyshire descended. But make no mistake, pot-holing is something more serious than mere caving; the obvious passages like Long Churn, Douk and Katnot were well known to certain people in 1775. Birkbeck had no successor, and except for f870 and the Alum Pot gathering, he gave up pot-holing and became an Alpine pioneer.

A curious forerunner of modern work was the attack by the brothers Geoffrey and Cuthbert Hastings and Eckroyd on the long passage up from Gavel Pot, on Leek Fell, 1885. It was not until after Cuthbert Hastings wrote in Y.R.C. JOURNAL, Volume VI, page 60, the story of how the iron ladder got there, that he became aware of how nearly the party had reached the Short Drop exit of the present day.

Martel came over to Ireland and Derbyshire and he made his famous ladder descent of Gaping Gill, with a knot in his lifeline, on 1st August, 1895. The Y.R.C. had been considering an attack and in September lowered Calvert and Booth to the ledge. By this time the Y.R.C. had discovered that information as to the underground was not to be relied upon and started the brilliant four years’ campaign of 1896 to 1899. In 1896 Gaping Gill was descended by winch and rope through the side passage, twice, two days each, Edward Calvert, Gray, T. S. Booth, Cuttriss and Green being the first down. The old East Passage was done to the end.

Trailer’s Hole and Clapham Cave (with raft) were done, and Long Kin West (90 ft.) by Calvert and Ellet. Next year Long Kin was completed, though only Calvert reached the bottom, but the season was filled by attacks on Rowten Pot. That the weather fights for the big caves is only too true, still T. S. Booth, Swithinbank, Cuttriss and Parsons were successful, and Calvert, Slingsby, Gray, Lund and Ellet mastered Sell Gill Hole and Pillar Pot I, while Calvert collected Jingling Pot (Kingsdale). Calvert had been elected to the Alpine Club as long ago as 1897 and in that season he and Gray had made, with guides, that very fine new climb, Gros Ruchen West Ridge.

The year 1897 was a great time for Parsons and Swithinbank; they did the old part of Marble Steps and Death’s Head Hole and, supported by Booth and Cuttriss, Bull Pot (Kings-dale) and Lost John’s Cave, old pitch. Swithinbank, Cuttriss and Buckley made Hastings’ ladder journey from Short Drop to Gavel Pot; Calvert, Ellet and Green collected Hunt Pot and Cross Pot. In 1899 Slingsby, Gray and Lund accounted for Boggart’s Roaring Hole; Cuttriss, Parsons, Swithinbank and others for Rumbling Hole (160 ft.), Bull Pot of the Witches and Cow Pot. Gray and Parsons, with Booth, Green, Moore and Riley joined in a second descent of Sell Gill Hole. This was the summer that Parsons led Riley up the top pitch of Walker’s Gully, putting himself in the super class of cragsmen.

Wholesale migration and the success of these brilliant campaigns slowed down the pace. No longer could it be said that information about the pot-holes was quite unreliable. Balder-son had written his Ingleton, Past and Present, somewhere about 1888, but though very useful for names and places, his measurements are not to be relied upon and the book was before its time.

In the years 1900—1902 nothing bigger than Alum Pot was done, but fresh climbers were coming in and Gray had launched the JOURNAL in 1899; Slingsby was tremendously pleased with it. In 1903, the fourth descent of Gaping Gill was made, still by cable from the first camp on the spot. Nineteen went down and the South Passage was found by Booth and Parsons.

In 1904 Booth and Parsons did the deep shaft of Jockey Hole and followed it with the more formidable Rift Pot accompanied by Green and Cuthbert Hastings, who had returned from abroad. Botterill and Payne about the same time organised the winchless visit to Gaping Gill, the fifth descent. Hill and Brodrick appear too in 1904 with the meritorious wade and rediscovery of Cliff Cavern, Castleton; the Yorkshire Speleological Association also appears, the original Club of Howarth, Simpson and Charlie and Davis Burrow who both joined the Y.R.C. in 1919.

The heroic age of ladder descents of Gaping Gill now began. Booth and Parsons had the powerful support of Horn, Botterill, Hastings and other skilled performers. The sixth descent 1905 was followed by the seventh and eighth in 1906 and the ninth in 1907 when they descended the Internal Pot and explored and surveyed the three main branches. In 1906 the Y.S.A. made the first journey right along Long Kin East and traversed round Rift Pot to the ‘bridge’, later they repeated Rowten Pot. At Gaping Gill they made the tenth, twelfth and thirteenth descents in 1907 and 1908. In Ireland Dr. Baker had been active with Hill, and the latter with Rule, Brodrick and Praeger made a complete survey of Mitchelstown and did much work at Marble Arch, Enniskillen.

So much for history, but 1909 was the year of the memorable Gaping Gill flood. The attraction of G.G. was so great that Payne could only muster a very small party for Mere Gill at Whitsun; Eric Addyman and Hazard were permanently mesmerised. At Clapdale we secured a sledge, set up our own camp and fell into the work. The water was very heavy but it was just possible to use the side passage and its great jib; the climb off the end and on to a ladder and a bo’sun’s chair was most sensational.

On Sunday afternoon I was allowed to follow seven men down and take charge at the bottom. There was a survey party in the East Passage, so Hazard and I decided to stay the night and join them. After a dinner out of tins, entirely without utensils, we began a minute search of every corner of the East Passage and it was a long time before we overtook the surveyors near Mud Pot. Here, in spite of my protests, I was left behind for several hours in the dark and was quite converted to Payne’s dislike of what is called the life-line party or relay system. I swore a mighty oath that I would never leave an unwilling volunteer behind if I could help it. When Horn led back the surveyors, Rule, Chappell, Barstow and Hazard, the leader up the traverse fixed the rope ladder and I had my first climb on one.

In the early hours of Monday we stood on the East Slope and looked at Gaping Gill in flood, a sight simply of spray. Horn led us to ‘Telephone Corner’ and everyone collected there; we tried telephoning and then went into the South Passage. We were booked for 24 hours at least but had every confidence in the men above. No one has written of what they did and suffered, other than Rule’s admirable account of the whole affair (Y.R.C.J., Vol. Ill, No. 9, page 67), but it was nothing trifling. Desperate attempts were made to keep the flood out of the Lateral Passage and some time in the morning before the worst, Tom Booth boldy climbed on to the chair and went through the waterfall which hits you on that route, to reassure us and bring a supply of food.

My hearing used to be very acute and as we lay under a cold damp tarpaulin miserably trying to sleep I became conscious of a faint repeated whistling and was sufficiently certain of it to get up and find a furious Booth in the Main Chamber. There was some daylight but without a candle he could not find his way into the South Passage and of course we had made a clean sweep of every loose article at Telephone Corner. We spent a pretty miserable time, unable to sleep, but I found that if one sat on one of the Cornish miners’ bowler hats and leaned against the wall, one was sufficiently comfortable to doze off for a few minutes at a time. By and by a poke in the ribs awakened me and Booth said ‘Sing’. ‘What shall I sing?’ ‘Anything!’ I tried desperately to think of a song but my mind was a blank. ‘Sing the first thing that comes into your head’ ordered Booth and I sang: —

Oh where, Oh where is my little dog pup,
Oh where, Oh where is he,
With his tail cut short and his hair cut long,
Oh where, Oh where can he be?

We seemed a little better after a sing-song and the draught which had been dreadful, must have eased off and the awful roar slightly diminished. Booth and Hazard, rigged in oilskins, began making excursions round and through the waterfall with the aid of a very strong acetylene lamp; about 7 p.m., relieved by others, someone brought in a cigar box. Sitting an hour or so later more comfortably I thought of all the brilliant brains up above and that cigar box; clearly the message was on the box; it was: “4 p.m., Fine, water going down. Out tonight”.

When three gun-shots were heard the chair was evidently down, Booth and Hazard soon got busy rushing through the water, I was no good at this game, wearing spectacles and I crouched holding candles in shelter below the scramble to the South Passage. Out of the whirling spray came Booth ‘Hazard’s gone up’. They had found the chair, what a relief! For by this time it was evident that some men were insufficiently clad.

The ascent on the swinging chair was a thrilling business, armed with a long pole to fend oneself off the walls. Out in the glorious open air there was every sign of a deluge. None of us had suffered in any way from the damp and draught— too well fed, notably on tomato soup. Anyhow the first four up changed and cheerfully manned the old winch, direct drive on a hemp cable, which brought up the last man, Tom Booth, by midnight, Monday.

After a good day’s work dismantling, Eric Addyman and I moved off for a swallet hole close to but north of Mere Gill Hole which had been spotted the year before as never having been entered. The small entrance at once expanded to a comfortable width and a reasonable height and the stream passage ran 650 yards with three small climbing pitches till it opened into a pot-hole on the left. Oddly enough the beck had not cut directly into it but ran along a gallery on the right till it cut a slit into the pot. Next day we set up ropes and a block above the slit and went down 30 odd feet with a clear swing, the only snag being that the three ropes, as so many abseilers in the Alps have found, twisted together, requiring hard pulling on both body line and life line for the first few feet. In a recess off the floor we found a cow’s skull and obviously a scree slope from the Braithwaite’s Wife Sink which we came out of and looked at between the two descents. It was sunset when we came out and that coincidence is the reason of the name ‘Sunset Hole’.

On Sunday I took the train to Carnforth and had a marvellously beautiful walk to Arnside followed next day by another from Foxfield up the Duddon to Ulpha and over to Wasdale Head where I joined Fred Botterill in his caravan. There was another happy soul there, one Gibson, this was his second day and he was training hard to do the stiffest climbs.

What a happy week, leading up the climbs as far as I could and the great Botterill polishing off those too much for me. The first was Walker’s Gully; from the bottom, no mistake it was hard. Gibson’s ambition was to do the famous top pitch. Twice he fell off and twice we held him through a loop. The first time I remember saying “Will you come in as you are, Gibson, or get the right way up first?” It was a miracle of grace, skill and immense strength to see Fred Botterill go up with complete certainty. Another very hard climb he led was Shamrock Chimney. I am glad to say the gallant Gibson, after more hard training, mastered the top pitch of Walker’s Gully later on.

The Ramblers’ Dinner was, in those days, held in February. It was my second dinner, and I believe it was the first time we sang “On Ilkla Moor baht ‘at”. Only a few privileged societies knew the song in those days, but for years and years Clarkson and then the Buckleys carried it on.

The very next was another jolly weekend. The Rucksackers were doing the highest point in every county and it was Durham’s turn, Burnhope Seat, a mile north of Teesdale Pass into Cumberland, which is about another mile north of the three shire point with Westmorland on the Tees. That joyous character Minor, with Scott picked me up at Darlington, Brierley and Wilson further on the way to Stanhope, Corbett turning up at 7 a.m. Train to Wearhead, bad storm eased off into decent day, across Burnhope Seat, down the Tees to Caldron Snout and on to Langdon Beck. I had been at school with Corbett in the days when we walked three miles to it, and I knew of his reputation. When the others left us on Sunday morning to do an undisguised race over the top of Mickle Fell, 1 was pleased to find that I could hold my own and even outpace him on the moors, but it was another story on the road to Middleton from the now defunct Grains o’ Beck Inn, rather like riding a push-bike alongside a motor cycle.

At Easter Erik Addyman, Ralph Stobart and I camped at Achintee, low down in Glen Nevis and spent Good Friday evening in what became the traditional way, climbing the big beeches which have grown around the ancient graveyard up the Glen towards its first big head.

Saturday we did the glorious snowy round of Sgurr a’ Mhaim and Stob Ban, a magnificent ridge for our first ascent, but what astonished us was the enormous size of the cornices, dangerously so, for on almost the last one we found we had been right on it. Castle Ridge and Ben Nevis top on a superb day, eight hours up but 80 minutes down, hurrah for glissading, in spite of much vile snow. It is quite true the long train of the North Cliffs of the Ben is one of the grand sights in Britain. Next came the Tower Ridge on a magnificent day of hard snow. Leaving at 7.30 a.m. we were at 10.30 already on the slopes behind the Douglas boulder. Cutting and kicking straight up the first piece of rock turned out stiffish, then some wonderful pieces of snow ridge with bits of rock which caused ice steps between. At 1.50 we lunched by the Tower, one mass of ice film. The East traverse looked nasty so Addyman made a great attack on the Recess Route and was nearly up at 4 o’clock, cutting steps in the ice covering, steps which the sun now coming on the Tower began to spoil. We had no intention of spending a night out so up went a piece of chip, it was rammed into a snow patch and Erik roped down. We had seen the possible line of descent coming up the cornice and got clean away on a continuous snow slope covering the Tower Gap Chimney in spite of a fusillade of ice lumps; as I stepped over the neat little bergschrund at the foot at 6 p.m. one of them made my head sing but we were clean away, and got to the tent at 8 p.m.

I stayed after the others on the Saturday, crossed the stream below Cam Mor Dearg in two hours and had a varied and enjoyable journey along the ridge in thick mist and some snow till it was very late. I found the ridge leading to Aonach which I had hoped for but had to go on along a narrow ridge on such a day until I seemed well past Cam Mor, but where? Finally I cut 100 steps down in ideal snow but could see no sign of the corrie. So up and over the top of Ben Nevis, 6 hours and another 2\ hours down to Fort William, rather tired, to the hospitality of the Waverley Hotel. They charged you only 30/- a week in those days, the other hotels were mostly closed or charged fantastic prices all the year round.

The next holiday, Whitsun, was meant to be a second serious attack on Mere Gill Hole, but high water forbade it and we turned to Sunset Hole. Never were we so strong, the two Swiss had dropped out but Addyman and Hazard had been fascinated and R. F. Stobart and W. M. Roberts came for their first big cave. The story of Boyd’s smash has been told at length in Volume III, Y.R.C.J., and I do not repeat it all.

It was quite certain that the passage ran to Braithwaite Wife sink hole, for the September before the sole explorers had been up and down a fourth time, and had taken aneroid readings in and out, hearing water too, and lowering the debris against the cliff several feet. We did not use ladders then and the descent dry direct into the pot was made by a thick untarred rope over a pulley, so simple that when the hand line became a nuisance it was discarded.

At the bottom of Sunset Pot the water disappears into the base of scree from outside and for two hours or so men worked in vain to burrow through. Boyd was the last man up and fell about 30 feet when the thick rope broke after 3 p.m. I left at once for the surface with Miss Stevenson, sent to the Hill Inn and Tom Kilburn cycled for Dr. Mackenzie. He came up after Boyd had been got to a ledge with a broken thigh and serious bruises; three men were just going in with the leaf of a table, blankets and food and at 6.30 the doctor most gallantly waded in and by 8.30 had bound Boyd to the plank, but gave us little hope of success. Boyd never lost consciousness all night; from 9 o’clock till 8 a.m., skilfully commanded by Payne, we fought to get him out whilst the three ladies and the doctor spent a dreadful night of suspense. Thank heaven it was one of the finest mornings of the year. The last low tunnel was a desperate bit, Hazard and Stobart were still going strong, though the other four were played out. Mrs. Payne had been in 300 yards with a can of soup. Tuesday morning Erik and I had to go inside and do our eight hours’ trip to recover all the equipment, otherwise I don’t think I should ever have wanted to do another cave, but the work made it just like any other cave.

With the problem before us of getting the whole party down the second pitch inside Mere Gill this smash led to a complete revision of our, so far, primitive methods. Rope ladders had to be used, first of all the amateurish 12 inch ladders, home made by Barstow and Addyman, were scrapped and the complete use adopted of the 8-inch ladder, the Botterill ladder, the making of which by Arthur Botterill was pointed out to us by that great source of pot-holing history and information, artist and Gaping Gill cook and caterer, Percy Robinson.

Then too, the theory of double support—it gives me the horrors to see a ladder slung on a single rope instead of a double one, much easier to tie—and Payne’s introduction and persistent use of a pulley for the last man’s life line. It is astonishing to find there is no trace in Casteret’s books of its use in France. Though consistently in use by the Y.R.C. from 1911, other parties have been very shy of it and many people have condemned it as a dangerous method, preferring to leave wretched people at the top with the life line. Whilst it is safe enough for experts to climb ladders a long way, we jolly soon made a self-denying ordinance never to climb one more than 30 feet unroped.

Boyd was nursed through his injuries at the Hill Inn and at length recovered but though he climbed in the Alps he never went pot-holing again. He was a very great loss.

The Y.R.C. Dinner was for the first time in November in 1910, about 75 men. Five of us had another jolly pot-holing weekend with Williamson and Mrs. Williamson in April. New Year Pot on Fountains Fell was reached in an hour. A 40 foot ladder was just enough and beyond that was new. Very difficult to find a solid tie for the second pitch. Beyond was a rift, just nice width, with a big chockstone pitch, not deep. Held by Stobart I was just swinging off on to the wall when the whole floor went from under us and we both luckily swung into chimney position. Two very shaken people crawled down a boulder slope and bit by bit down its continuation in a wide passage to a boulder jam. We recovered nerve enough to get through the jam after two attempts, into a high, narrow and interesting passage to a dead end in 30 yards.

New Year 1911 I went with Minor and some Rucksack men to Pen-y-Pass. Winthrop Young and his party of characters were there, and Grenfell, who afterwards commanded a ‘Q’ ship, and Barlow of Skye. The evenings were very lively and the weather not bad. With the Grenfells, Barlow and I climbed the interesting Slanting Buttress.

I spent two remarkable weekends with Raymond Bicknell, one in March in really bitter weather to and fro over the Stye, and I have never worn so many clothes, and the other in May on the Roman Wall walking one day miles along it from Greenhead Station and making for Hexham. We also did a lot of climbing on the queer rocks above Crag Lough, then almost untouched, they must be altered now. We found very steep pillars or edges jointed across, with rounded tops. These tops lifted off and left excellent flat holds. Not one rounded top will be in place now.

Ben Nevis at Easter had pleased us so much that a party of eleven went in 1911, six men and five ladies. I need not repeat the story of the ascent of the Gardyloo Gully, told in Y.R.C.J., No. 27. The holiday was spoilt by seven and a half days’ rain, Sunday to Sunday. Mr. and Mrs. Bicknell had already done the South Castle Gully but the only other climb attempted resulted in Bicknell and Hazard being avalanched in Corrie Leas.

In spite of the rain five traversed Aonach South to North from above Glen Nevis Gorge, crossing three flooded rivers on the way home, one really formidable. The next day Addyman, Hazard and the Bicknells trained to Corrour and somehow managed the long way into and through the Glen— soaked. The last expedition in the very worst rain recalls the enormous changes in manners and customs two wars have caused; only climbers had ever seen women in breeches then. Crossing from the Kinlochleven bus at Calhert over the hills to the Fort William track, I collected a skirt for my. sister and brought it out a mile or so to save the feelings of the populace at Fort William.

The second serious attempt on Mere Gill Hole was the fourth camp, Whitsun 1911. Long discussions had settled that only rope ladders and the last man held over a pulley could do it. We were reduced to five of the Sunset Hole party and had lost Boyd and the two Swiss of 1908, though it was amazing in 1948 to find that Hoessly had thought so much about the smash that he imagined himself at times to have been there. The trench as far as the two shake holes over the wall from the Gill was the key to success, and when we found the water delivered either above the first pitch or below the second it was carried further to get away into the Sunset Hole system. Sunday was an 11-hour day below; we got the ladders on the third pitch and Addyman reached within a few feet of the floor. Payne and Stobart had to be off late on Monday; we were all very tired but four pulled themselves together for another try. Hazard luckily found a splendid belay on a block submerged in the final Canyon Pool instead of the doubtful beam, so Stobart and I went down the big third whilst he and Addyman surveyed. However, in 40 yards we we found a small pitch above a pool and bad to turn. By 7 p.m. we had the ladder up the second pitch and three tired men had the job of getting them out on Tuesday. But for the restriction of the Whitsun holiday we should have succeeded easily, for in the Coronation holidays without Stobart the four of us put in all the ladders and returned to the camp in 70 minutes, to be crushed by 36 hours of rain which flooded everything even a week later. The whole story is told in ‘The Siege of Mere Gill’, Y.R.C.J., Vol. IV, No. 12.