A Day to Remember and a Lesson Learned
Arthur W Evans
In the 1930s, occasional coach parties used to go from Merseyside to Idwal Cottage Youth Hostel during the winter months. How or by whom they were organised, I never found out.
Messages were passed by phone or word of mouth that a coach would be leaving Birkenhead pier head at 5.30 p.m. on Friday for Idwal, returning on the Sunday evening. The coach was always full of young climbers and the trips were very jolly occasions.
On one of these outings in January 1935 or ‘36, the weather was very cold and Llyn Ogwen was frozen over.
At Idwal, my bed was in the Hut and I had a very chilly night. Awake before dawn, I had the bright idea of going up to the Idwal Slabs and doing the ordinary route solo before returning for breakfast and the day’s climbing.
After breaking the ice on the water-butt outside the hut for a perfunctory wash and shave, I left at first light for the Slabs and started up the climb.
At first things went well, clearing snow off the holds with my hands, but after about eighty feet the snow cover increased markedly. Ahead was a continuous snow slope with no sign of the underlying rock. After a few trial moves I found I could progress by kicking steps and punching holds for my hands.
For the next hundred feet or so it was straightforward. The snow was firm and did not ball up on my tricounis. The underlying rock was, however, glazed with ice and this increased as I moved up.
Higher up the snow cover began to peter out and was soon too thin to give a good foothold and brought me to a halt. I began to regret I’d left my slater’s hammer behind and to realise that a retreat would, to say the least, be difficult.
The view ahead was not very encouraging; a glistening sheet of ice with occasional unconnected patches of snow, except that to my left there was a continuous narrow strip of snow which appeared to run all the way to the top.
It was a long stretch but after a few tentative kicks confirmed that it was thick enough to give a foothold, I carefully moved across.
Progress then was slow but fairly steady and I finally reached the shelf below the Holly Tree Wall in a very relieved and chastened mood.
The shelf was thigh deep in softer snow and the easy way off, on the left, was thickly buried and gave some difficulty. However, I was soon on easy ground and on my way to a much appreciated hot breakfast.
The conditions were certainly very unusual, more reminiscent of Scotland, but this was no excuse for such a stupid and foolhardy outing. If there had been any wind the story might have been very different. I should have assessed the conditions ahead and retreated early on and, of course, should not have started without my slater’s hammer.
I’ve often wondered since whether anyone else has ever kicked steps up the Idwal Slabs.
The slater’s hammer had a certain popularity in those days in preference to the more cumbersome ice-axe and was an excellent and cheap tool for chipping ice off holds.
