Back in ’56 – 1956
Derek A. Smithson
Following this first paragraph are almost exact copies of a log written shortly after some weekend outings in the Lake District in 1956. I found them interesting to read because they illustrate our views and attitudes in those days. Vibrams were the new thing for us to climb in. Tents were sold without sewn in ground sheets. Mountain accidents were recorded but it was not normal to dwell on the detail as we do now. We helped carry down a man who had been pulled off a climb on Kernknotts and who was dead. The man who pulled him off, through no fault of his, was nearly hysterical. We walked away from our rucsacs, full of camping and climbing gear, quite certain that they would be there untouched for us to retrieve. For me there is the bonus that it reminds me of when I was young and fit and travelled on foot in the lakes was still an adventure. The original record was made as a reminder of the problems of travel in the dark.
On Friday, early in June, we drove to Seathwaite, arriving there at about 11.00 pm. We followed the normal path via Stockley Bridge to Sty Head. Though it was cold, we found we were then above the mist and the Gable traverse was fairly easy to follow on this moon lit night. We did, however, lose the path below Sphinx Rock and not find it again until we were almost on Beck Head. Even in daylight the path can be lost here. At about 2.00 am, we pitched the tent behind a boulder on Beck Head, hoping to find some shelter from the cold wind. I was on the windward side and did not sleep very well for the wind seemed to blow straight through my sleeping bag.
We made coffee, ate some Vita Wheat with honey and packed up at about 6.30 am. We traversed the Northern side of Kirkfell and walked along Looking Stead and the High Level route to Robinson’s Cairn. Here we pitched the tent and had a meal. By this time, the clear cold morning had developed into a beautiful sunny day and the wind had disappeared.
Pillar rock looked wonderful and too tempting to resist, even to sun bathe. We followed Green Ledge to the waterfall, stopping only to look at Walkers Gully with the thought of doing it the next day. To the left of the waterfall we found a well marked route, of about difficult standard, which led us to the bottom of the New West route. We had both climbed the New West route before but enjoyed doing it again, as one must always enjoy such wonderful routes. At the top we finished the climb by going up the rough slabs, instead of following the correct route into a short chimney. A glorious climb and ideal conditions!
We sat and smoked and talked on the top for some time before descending Slab and Notch. It was late afternoon, so we returned to the tent for a proper meal. After idling in the sun for some time, the rock again attracted us and back we went. This time we climbed the North Climb. We were both repulsed by the Nose and I descended into Savage Gully to carry the rope round to safeguard Cliff on this fantastically exposed place. Our weary descent was by the Old West Route and back to our camp for 11.00 pm, too tired even to go for water for our morning coffee.
The next morning, it was still windless and sunny, so after a quick breakfast we were back on Pillar. Walkers Gully did not seem very attractive to our inflexible muscles, mine at least. We climbed the N.E. climb, which we found to be as pleasurable as the two more famous climbs done the day before. On descending by the Old West route, we were surprised and pleased to meet Reg Goddard, who had come up late the previous night. Having failed to find us, he had slept under a rock and slept late. To allow him to climb before returning home I carried his framed rucsac round to the camp whilst he and Cliff turned back to the crag. Back at the camp, I packed up the tent and put water on to boil so that when my friends’ yodels announced their approach the water was boiling. After a meal the three of us returned to Sty Head via Aaron Slack. About half way down to Stockley Bridge were stopped by a man descending more quickly than us and told of an accident on Great Gable. We lowered our packs and returned to the Sty Head box in time to help with the carry which finished at Seathwaite where an ambulance was waiting.
We drove home feeling very tired but prepared for another week confined to industrial Teesside.
In the middle of October, Cliff and I again left Seathwaite at 11.00 pm. This time our intention was to walk to Hollow Stones, below Scafell, and set our tent up there. We walked towards Stockley Bridge and then turned right, across the stream and up the shoulder on the right hand side of Taylor’s Ghyll until we struck the path. We followed the path to the Sty Head box. The night was cold and clear. There was light enough to distinguish the well worn path but the inability to judge the size of stones made walking difficult. We did not know the Corridor Route and lost the path soon after leaving the Sty Head box. With the help of a torch and a certain amount of hard work, we found the track again but lost our night sight. From this time on we used a torch continuously. We did once try to do without it but, though I think our night sight returned, we had lost the patience to stumble along in the dark. At about 2.30 pm we dropped down into a valley. Having already crossed Piers Ghyll and Skew Ghyll, we thought it might be Hollow Stones so we turned off the path and pitched the tent.
The next morning was misty but we could see enough to know that we were not at Hollow Stones. We knew we had travelled for about two and a half hours from Sty Head, so the question was, had we passed Hollows Stones or not reached them. After coffee and Vita Wheat, we walked up to the ridge at the head of the valley. The mist did not clear but we found a well worn path along the ridge. This path, we reasoned, could only exist at Mickledore, and we weren’t there, or between Broad Crag and Scafell Pikes. Our lack of judgement of the distance moved in the dark had given us a walk of about two hours over Scafell Pikes instead of twenty minutes round the bottom. Having crossed the summit of Scafell Pike and having resisted the impulse to pitch the tent on top of its big cairn, we made camp just above Hollow Stones. We then cooked a meal, wondering if the rock would be in a fit condition to climb in Vibram.
We walked up to Scafell crag and spent an hour or so looking for a climb. In the end, we allowed the wet mist to drive us down to the drier level at our tent. Whilst I was lying in the tent, Cliff disappeared into the mist towards Pikes Crag. After a while shouts and whistles persuaded me to leave the tent and guided me to the foot of Grooved Arete. The rock was reasonably dry here. The climb was strenuous, partially because of the nature of the climb and partially because of our insecure footing on the greasy rock. Having started the climb about 4.00 pm we had to keep moving because we knew darkness would fall about 6.00 pm. We reached the top just as darkness really fell. The sunset we saw was of the type read about. Below us at about 2500 ft, there was a continuous layer of white fleecy cloud extending into the golden band of the setting sun. Showing as black crescents against this light were the summits of Great Gable, Pillar and Steeple. It was sight I hope never to forget, but a sight I don’t expect to see again. We set up an abseil down the eastern side of the crag only to find that the darkness had deceived us. After ten feet we were on easy ground. During the meal that followed, we remembered that it was the weekend of the Wasdale Fair and decided to go down to the hotel to join our friends. It was a hard journey back to the tent.
The following morning was fine and sunny but we were not at our best. Even though it was comfortably warm we avoided the harder climbs. We by-passed the bottom pitch of Deep Ghyll by a route on its left and continued up Robinson’s Chimney to join the West Wall Traverse. We then climbed Old Professor Chimney, which only has one real pitch, and on the Pisgah, Highman and Lowman of the Pinnacle. After this look round, which I particularly enjoyed because it was my first clear day on Scafell, we returned to the camp to eat and pack. Then we walked back along the Corridor Route in our shirt sleeves on the beautiful October day. Another enjoyable, if not very successful weekend.