© J A D Healey 2014
Arthur and I caught the 6.23 to Crewe; I dozed most of the way from Derby to Crewe and thought I was going to have a good night's sleep in the train, but at Crewe we met Stan and I was soon thoroughly awake with all the talk of holidays abroad and his night on the top of Tryfan the other weekend. It was lucky Stan knew the ropes; he showed us the Bettws train waiting in the station at Llandudno Junction and we waited in it and went to Bettws. Fortunately also Stan knew of the 7 o'clock bus to Capel, for it was pouring with rain. At Llugwy, Mary got us a cup of tea immediately and we had breakfast in about an hour. It had rained all night and was still raining during breakfast, but all the others (Freda and Phil, besides Arthur and Stan) were determined to go up Snowdon (by the ridge if possible!). I felt very much the novice of the party, being the only one without an ice axe. Arthur and Stan started to walk up the Pen-y-Pass and Phil took Freda and me. He had to take down the hood from "le Mans special" and Freda rode inside and I sat behind and had no shelter at all. Very soon it started to hail – I put my hands over my face (hoping that someone's boots who I was nursing would stay on my lap) and put my head down – but how the hail stung the top of my head! I lost interest in where we were going, but looked up when there was a squeal of brakes and would find a wall nearly on top of us, but we always avoided them (Phil admitted afterwards he couldn't see with the hail). Leaving Freda and me outside the hotel (it appeared shut), Phil went back for Arthur and Stan – they were lucky, it had stopped hailing by then. We set out along the track by the lake. The causeway was right under water, so we had to go round, and we went on past Glaslyn.
We had lunch trying to shelter in some old workings, but it was very cold. We went on up Snowdon, it snowed most of the way. I think we could have avoided the ice, but the others with their axes preferred to try to cut steps – there were plenty of steps for me to use. We thought it was cold on the way up, but when we got over the ridge! I was very amused near the hotel to shelter behind some netting wire! The holes were filled up by ice and it made a good wind break. We got into the hotel through a trap door at the back and ate a few more sandwiches, but it was too cold to enjoy it. Someone tried to light a fire from the odd bits of wood about the place (not the furniture for there wasn't any), but it wouldn't burn, so we left, passing on the way the 'Bangor University Mountaineering Club', who had come up from Llanberis and looked absolutely perished. We went down the Pen-y-Gwryd track, what a relief to get over the ridge and into comparative shelter; we ran quite a bit of the way down – it was grand on the untrodden snow. Soon we got out of the mist and could see over towards Bettws-y-Coed. It looked quite fine there, the tops all round were in mist. Over towards Siabod there was that blue light on the hills which I have only seen before in pictures. 'Gorphwysfa' was still closed so we went down to the Pen-y-Gwryd for tea and then Phil drove Freda and me back to 'Llugwy', where after a quick bath we sat down to another tea. It was so delicious, how I wished I'd had a bigger appetite.
Margery and Nell, and Bob and Norman soon arrived, and later, Derrick and Douglas.
I think they wondered whether the house would be pulled down when Arthur tried to put me to bed that night!
It was another windy, misty, showery day and we set off for the walk I had been looking forward to for so long – over the Carneddau. I set off all right, but when it came to going up the steep side to Pen Llithrig-y-Wrach (I think it is), I found myself getting further and further behind; rightly or wrongly, I blamed my rucksack. When I had packed it, it never occurred to me that I should have to carry it, I had a spare pair of boots and all in it, and it seemed to weigh a ton. Phil was also left behind and we decided to cut out that hill and make straight for Helyg – the others soon caught us up. We were soon in the mist, and there were fair sized patches of snow. We had lunch somewhere on Craig-y-Ysfa – it got very cold though. We left Margery and Norman to go back to Capel while we went on to the Carneddau. There was a little snowballing on the top – the view was just wonderful, Carnedd Dafydd looking so steep and with snow on it and then the other way over the Conway Valley – so peaceful and warm and sunny. More people were in favour of Llanfairfechan than Dolgarrog, so we set out along the ridge. It soon started to hail – it was nearly as bad as it had been in the car, for the wind was terrific; at the end it lifted Freda and Derrick right off their feet and dropped them again by the side of the path. At one point we were sheltering (or trying to) behind a wall by the wreck of an aeroplane. We called it the 'devil's pipes', the wind made such a weird noise through the wreckage. We went over or round Foel Grach, Foel Fras and Drum, and eventually got down out of the mist and the hail. Then we turned a corner and got out of the wind! – we'll never forget the sight of Llanfairfechan in the sun, and it looked as though it had been nice there all day. We got to the station with about 10 minutes to spare. The man offered to lock us in a room so that we could change (we were soaked to the skin), but there wasn't time. We got in the train as we were and started to try to change in corridors and lavatories, but the guard was as obliging as the porter had been and invited us into his van – it was full of windows but we could change there in comfort. At one station we got out and went to the back of the train where we got a carriage practically to ourselves. I don't think I've ever enjoyed a train ride so much, just to be warm and dry, and we shared out any food we had. We changed at Chester (where we left Stan) and Crewe, and got to Derby about 11 o'clock. How relieved we were to find the Marriot's Chariot waiting and Arthur drove me to the door before taking Freda home.
I caught the 9.06 to Tamworth, and so on to Crewe and Windermere. The train got in about 6.30 so I thought it worth getting a taxi to Ambleside and catching the early bus. There two taxis waiting, one filled up, the other was only taking a boy and a girl and they seemed pleased for me to share it, and when they heard where I was going, insisted that I came all the way with them, for they were going to the D.G. Arriving at the D.G., after saying 'hullo' to Cyril Bullman, and paying much too little for the taxi, I went along to the barn and woke Peter up to let me in. Fortunately he is a good cook, so he used to send me on errands while he got the food ready. When I came back with the milk that morning, the bacon and egg was ready. We finished breakfast with toast and marmalade – the Lancashire Climbing and Caving Club's barn is well equipped with cooking facilities, utensils, and emergency rations.
When I arrived it had been fine, but misty on the tops. By the time we were ready to set out, there was a fine drizzle, so we made for Bowfell. I have wanted to do the 'Plaque route' for a long time so we set off up it. Both Peter and I had been hoping that the others would be eager to do all the leading, but they weren't, so we had to lead through. Peter started and went the easiest way and I followed him, even with a rope I couldn't do the more difficult way. On the next pitch, with me above him, Peter was able to do the orthodox route. I was very disappointed not to see the Plaque. At the top we didn't realise that the buttress comes out at the same point and we made a circular tour of that part of Bowfell to find the top of the Buttress, and came back to where we started from. We found the Buttress very difficult. Peter was last down that exposed step near the top and he had a rope round a belay for it (he didn't need it); I think it was only my bad climbing which had put him off. Fortunately, we were able to recover the rope. All the way down I was trying to wangle it so that I was first down the crack, but it wasn't to be. Peter got down it with a tight rope at one point and said that I would be alright as he could point out the holds to me. I tried it and knew I could never do it, so climbed up till I found a rock for a belay. I hoped I could do it without help, but I was very glad to use the doubled rope as a hand hold. The rest of the climb seemed quite easy after that. Much to Peter's disgust I insisted on doing the Cambridge climb next, instead of Flat Crags or some dreadful 'severe' he would have liked. It was quite fine by then and blue sky above and all the way up I was longing to get to the top and into the sun. I had been glad to see that the mist stayed on the Pikes quite as long as it did on Bowfell, but of course we were facing the wrong way and the rocks which were so wet and slimy right to the end, had such a neglected air about them too, as though they're never climbed these days. On the Plaque for instance, there were quite a number of loose holds, easily removed, on the direct line of the climb.
The 'Cambridge' was a pleasant change after the 'Buttress' – with Peter's advice I didn't find the step across so difficult this time. I was first up the 'Hell's Loose' bit, but it didn't seem to shower so much muck down. I went the easy way round the chimney and so found the last part very pleasant - the giant staircase amused me – and so into the sunshine for a pleasant run down to Wall End for a glass of milk and a chat. I learned that Jean Macarthur was with the H.F. so I called in there, but it was dinner time, so I didn't stay very long. Back at the hut, I fetched a dozen eggs from Side House, while Peter cooked the dinner.
There was an entertainment at Chapel Stile that evening, but we didn't feel capable of getting there, besides it must have been about 9 o'clock before we stopped eating (we neither of us had a watch) and then I was asleep in no time.
With the hour being taken off it was 9 o'clock before I fetched the milk, and there was a mist on the tops, so Gimmer was out of the question. After breakfast I said goodbye to Wall End (Farm and H.F.) and came back for an early lunch before setting out for Scout. I led up the easier route – climbing very badly – and Peter was last down the more interesting route – nearly too interesting he found it, for our climbing was as bad as it had been on Bowfell, and we hadn't even the excuse of wet rocks for it was a perfect day by then, the sun was too hot, if anything. We then made our way down to the bus stop and the bus soon came along to take us to Windermere.
I went with Peter on the Manchester train; he left me at Bolton. At Manchester I asked if the midnight train ran to Nottingham, I was told 'no' and eventually got out of the man that it went to Derby, but they wouldn't accept Derby passengers, so I went to London Road Station and caught the 11.55 to Crewe and so on to Tamworth, where I spent several hours in a cold, dark waiting room, talking. I got to Nottingham at 7.40, i.e. it took me nearly 3 hours longer to get back by train than it did hitch-hiking from Windermere at New Year.
I met Arthur and the two Jacks at about 11.20. Strib and I couldn't get a ticket (the queue was too long) so we got platform tickets. The train wasn't too bad to Trent, but the Scottish train was simply packed. Arthur followed me in but the Jacks had to get further down the train and they were separated. I sat on a gas mask, but most people had to stand; the train emptied a little at Leeds and I was able to get comfortable and doze after then.
At Kilmarnock we found 'the Jacks', also Ron Tarbox. We had a cup of tea and paid our fares and got in the Ardrossan train (we had lost the early one and knew we shouldn't get across till the afternoon).
At Ardrossan we went in the Kilmeny Hotel and had a wash while waiting for a meal. We joined up with Stan and John. They had been on our train all the way up.
We started walking along the front (it was quite warm enough for paddling) but when a bus came along for Largs we got in to go to Fairlie Pier and then changed our minds and went on to Largs. Stan and John were asleep when we changed our minds and we couldn't at first persuade them that they weren't at Fairlie.
We spent hours over a cup of tea in a café and then it was time to get a bus back to Fairlie. We met Marjorie on the pier; she had gone to Glasgow, but had missed the early boat. On the 'Duchess of Argyl' we went to the saloon. Marjory and I talked and all the others slept – with the whole of the rest of the saloon looking at us.
Jock was also on the boat, and at Lamlash he found our bus for us and we went on to Corrie; Jock was able to tell us to get off just before the village and he went into Mrs. Kelso's at "Alderley" and we went next door to Mrs. Watson's at "Woodlands". From Mrs. Watson's pink card we found that Arthur, the Jacks and I were with Derrick and Douglas, John Cotrill, George, Grace (who I had met at the Harrison's), Betty and Muriel.
Very soon the others arrived back from Goat Fell, very wet; how envious I was. I immediately put on my cape and went for a walk round Corrie; it wasn't raining very hard by then, and got up a little bit of an appetite for dinner, besides working off some of my surplus energy.
It wasn't very promising first thing, but we set out to walk the two miles along the road to Glen Sannox. Willy and Jock (Kelso's) were with us and Willy proved useful – the Polaris had never had such a large party before and had no idea of keeping it together. Willy of course had had plenty of practice at this. We went up Suidhe Fhearghas and had lunch at the top – it was a lovely place for it, but it wasn't so warm sitting down and I soon rolled down my trousers. We went on in a hail storm to Ceun na Caillich – Jock lent me a balaclava for, as usual, I had forgotten my sou'wester (my only balaclava hadn't got very far by then). I enjoyed the Witches Step in trousers and leather gloves (I had always promised myself these clothes next time I came to Arran). The hailstones on the ledges added a little to the interest (I felt I was doing a little more than when I first did this, my first 'climb'). Some people went down from there, while the rest of us went on and over the Castles; they were in mist when we started, but it soon cleared. We came down, passed the Highlandman's Well and saw Stan and John. They had set out just before us (they were afraid that we weren't going out because the weather was doubtful). They did just the same round as us, but the other way round. We went on up Cir Mhor and admired the view. Arran is just the right size to give the impression that you're on an island – you're conscious of the sea the whole time – and the weather couldn't have been better. There was mist and showers in the morning, but you soon got dry and, on the whole, the weather was breezy, with sun and cloud, absolutely ideal for ridge walking. Fun and games on the way down; those coming my way had to have a little help at one point from the others coming down a sensible way, but it was extraordinary how you stuck to the rock; you could get down impossible places, just by friction.
Margery and Nell, Arthur and Jack and I then went up North Goat Fell and along to Goat Fell and down past High Corrie to Corrie. Despite the day out, after the good 3 course dinner, I could no more tackle the 'tea' which was one the table, than I had been able to, the day before. We started the evening in at 'Kelso's', but they all went to bed in fair time – our people started drifting away, but I wanted to get my knitting right. How thoughtful the Polaris are; they offered to sit up with me and make 'light conversation' for my amusement, till I had picked up all my stitches! Long after I had stopped knitting, Derrick, George and John were still talking!
Douglas, the perfect leader, had a bus to the door to take us to the entrance to Glen Rosa – the first time the Polaris have had their own bus! We turned up by the Garbh Allt and up Beinn a'Chliabhain. When Arthur saw the Nuis, Tarsuinn Ridge on the skyline, he decided that was the ridge for him and got a little party to follow him, but I was quite satisfied with Chliabhain. At the beginning of the A'Chir Ridge, we stopped for lunch in a sheltered place and then started along the ridge which I had been determined to visit this time in Arran. Willie was splendid at keeping the party together so that those behind shouldn't get lost. At the beginning I followed Jock and did an extra little bit – Jock got up it beautifully, a sort of 'lay-back', but I 'chimneyed' up it not nearly as neatly. Although the ridge was only a few bits strung together, i.e. not a sheer impressive ridge, these bits were very interesting and the ridge is certainly the high spot of the island, especially where the way is down the side, away from the sheer end of the ridge. The 'step across' even was more interesting than in the photo. We went on up Cir Mhor, where Arthur's party caught us up. I went down Cir Mhor the same way as on Saturday. 'Some people never learn', they all thought. We went up North Goat Fell again and then Arthur, Stan, Jack and I went over Cioch na h'Oighe. It was a lovely ridge and we came down the end, avoiding the boiler plates.
The walk back over the moorland impressed me so much; I can't think why exactly. It was a lovely evening, it was glorious country, moorland with a few trees and deer, and the rocks of the Devil's Punchbowl behind – another thing was we dropped down right in Corrie. We called in the hotel on the way. The drinks had to be fetched by one of the registered 'bona fide travellers' who had signed the book as having come from Sannox.
It was dull all day, so we didn't regret our decision too much, not to go on the tops, and, as it was going to be a short day, we thought we might just as well catch the early boat (2.15) and be sure of our connection. We had a special bus to Lamlash and spent our time walking round the village, phoning up the 'Troubadore'.
We wanted to go to Holy Island; there were no civilian boats, but we were told that the Navy might take us if we phoned up the 'Troubadore' at such and such a number, but he wasn't in. We had a very good 'elevenses' in a café and then walked in the Kings Cross direction and had lunch in the woods and then had to rush back to get to the boat. As we passed the café, we found that some of them were still there, having lunch.
As we had plenty of time, we decided to go to Glasgow to be sure of getting a seat. We had dinner there and then went back to the station; we had a trolley to take our rucksacks onto the platform. In the train we were able to get a carriage to ourselves as we were just eight. Freda and Bernard, Arthur, Jack, Stan, John and Douglas (our meet leader, last but not least). I got on the floor, underneath their legs, which they all put on the seats opposite. At Carlisle, Stan and John got out of the window (small and high up) and brought us back tea – we stayed in the train (to Derby) instead of changing into the Nottingham one, as we were so comfortable and the trains were so crowded.
I caught the 6.17 and changed at Derby, Crewe, Chester and Llandudno Junction, where I slept for most of the four hours, in the Bettws train. It was a cold night, but I was alright with all my clothes on, and my cape over me. At Bettws it was a glorious morning (I was sure the sun was too good to last), but it was freezing cold, so I started to walk, until the bus overtook me. Walking to Llugwy from the bus, Paul and I started talking; he had been on the same train. At Llugwy we spent about an hour over the teapot, before breakfast. I met the rest of my party at breakfast, only three of them - Norah, Frank and Vernon. Vernon and Paul discussed the day's climb – Pinnacle Wall on Craig-yr-Ysfa. I was very relieved when Paul gave his opinion of it as 'easy severe', for I was afraid they might be doing something beyond my powers. Frank drove us along the Nant Ffrancon to the best point from which to get to the Crag and we walked up.
At the top, Vernon pointed out the climb (for he had done it before, and Frank hadn't) we went round for a nearer view of it and Vernon gave his opinion of its standard. For the first time, he announced that it was a 'hard severe', so I began to show doubts as to my ability to do it. We changed into rubbers and went down the gully to the foot of it, and then they said that, if I started it I should have to finish it and then Frank suddenly roped me up next to him and we all went up Amphitheatre Rib. There was nothing in it on a day like that; how I wished that we had used that to get down the gully, instead of the mucky way we had come.
They then went down again and did their climb and I went round the other side of the Amphitheatre and watched them. I suddenly realised that I had never before watched a climb and I was surprised how you could tell, even at that distance, exactly how happy they were. They found parts of the climb quite hard, which was my one consolation for not being on it (I remembered that my last climb was in April in Langdale and I found Scout really difficult and I decided that climbing was an over-rated pastime!). It was terrible when they came up though and said the situation reminded them of Gimmer (my favourite crag). They announced that they were going to sunbathe, so I asked if there would be time for me to get to the top (I had to do something to work off my surplus energy). Frank said I could go right along the ridge to Mervyn's and finally Vernon accompanied me. This is the walk I'd wanted to do for so long, and it was grand, running down at the end (Vernon was a good person to follow). It almost made me forget I hadn't done the climb. Frank had the tea poured out so that it was just the right temperature to drink, and then he drove us back. It didn't seem to matter that we were late for dinner. In the evening we came back from the Bryn Tyrch and found Mr. Owens of the Pen-y-pass at Llugwy.
Frank had some work to do, so Vernon took Norah and me up Pinnacle Rib. Frank took us to the Farm and I left my rucksack there in case Frank didn't come back in time. We went along Heather Terrace and changed into rubbers for speed on the climb. As that made the climb very easy, I tried to choose the more difficult bits, and I had bare arms and knees – partly hoping to get sub-burnt and partly so that I should climb better!
The climb didn't take us very long; we had some chocolate on the top, came down to our boots and ran down, arriving just at 2.15, when Frank came along to meet us. He took us to Mervyn's to put me well on my way, and, after the inevitable cup of tea, I started down the Nant Ffrancon, determined not to get a lift, as I had plenty of time to walk. When I was offered a lift, I couldn't resist it and put my pack in the back of the car along with the B.M.J. which was there. I was dropped at the station where I left my pack and changed and went for a walk along by the sea and back by the country and had a cup of tea at the station before catching the 5 o'clock train.
At Derby I got a bus to Chilwall and then a shift bus to Nottingham.
I caught my usual trains on the Friday night, and all went well as far as Colwyn Bay. Here an airman who was getting out borrowed the naval greatcoat above my head and put it over me. I was so beautifully warm and comfortable that I went sound asleep and was quite sorry when I woke up and found we were getting to a station. I was sorrier still when I found that the station was Bangor – I had slept through the Junction!
There was no train back to Llandudno in time to get the connection, and there was no way of getting to Capel in time for breakfast (which I was determined to do) except by taxi or shank's pony. The taxi man was most concerned; he wanted to get me put up at the Y.M. so he wasn't only after a fare. He said he'd take me all the way for £2/10/-. Eventually I agreed to be taken just beyond Bethesda for 10/-.
When I got out he said he'd toss me whether he'd take me all the rest of the way for another 10/-, but I wasn't interested, I was looking forward to my walk, although I thought the taxi man was right when he said it would be raining before I'd gone another mile up the road. It was a light night for a walk, I soon put on my climbing jacket for the wind was pretty strong. It was an experience, walking right into the hills on a stormy night like that, with the mist (or rather clouds) quite low. I had such a surprise when I turned the corner by Ogwen for the sky was clear to the east and it had started to get light and the wind had dropped. How I admired Tryfan as I walked past, with the clouds gradually lifting, and the moon literally took my breath away as it appeared from behind the hillside. About a mile from Capel, I realised I was hungry and then I remembered I had a few biscuits, so I arrived at Llugwy quite contented. I found the backdoor unlocked, so I walked in and slept for an hour on the settee until Mrs. Morsley roused me for tea and toast and marmalade.
The rest of the party eventually got up, Derrick, Frank, Vernon, Norah and Frank M. Vernon took us all round to the Pen-y-pass and we walked to Lliwedd. I climbed with Vernon and Frank M. up Route II. I was sorry we all changed into rubbers for the one step. We had lunch at the top of the climb and then tried to find the continuation finish, but we soon unroped and found our own ways up. I was making for the cairn on the top and was surprised to see the others sunbathing. They wanted to know what we had been doing for they said they had been there 2 hours. The run went down alright, it was lovely over there on the south side, but it had been really cold (I thought) coming up, and there was mist as well.
I left my party, I am afraid, for they were going to go straight down. I followed the other three down the Gribin, and a very nice way down I thought it; we then cut up to the Pen-y-Gwryd track and came out by the Gorphwysfa where we had a cup of tea.
It was a glorious day, Vernon drove us to Ogwen. Derrick and I dumped our packs in Ogwen Cottage and we walked up to the Slabs. I followed Derrick and Frank M. up Heather Weakness, finishing up Tennis Shoe – we were in rubbers and it was just pleasant climbing. Frank and Norah then decided to go down and so Frank M. took me and Derrick Vernon up Holly Tree. We did the direct start – the holds were certainly excellent, but they weren't exactly what I'd call mantelshelves. At the Holly Tree we did the outside route. Nearer the top there was a bit the others didn't like; I did it semi-lay-back fashion, but the others preferred their own way. We came down (past Suicide Wall) for lunch at the bottom. The others then thought it time to start going back, and Derrick asked what I wanted to do. Of course I preferred a climb to my early train, or even to the tea we had suggested having at Ogwen Cottage.
Derrick suggested the Devil's Kitchen; I didn't show much enthusiasm, so he then suggested Ash Tree Wall, and we went up to the foot of it. Dicky and Scotty, who had been with us for lunch, directing us to it.
Frank waited until I had safely started on the first pitch and then went down, to go back with the others. We had borrowed Dicky's 120 or 150 ft of line and we needed it for that 1st pitch. I expect Derrick was glad it was line and nothing heavier too, for leading that long run out. When at last I could get the belay untied, and started on the climb, I thoroughly enjoyed it, as the book says, "the bubbly nature of the wall is at its maximum" or something like that – but we certainly needed those holds, for the wall was practically vertical (or even more than vertical, it seemed at the bulge).
The last pitch was interesting too. Derrick made a running belay before putting all his weight on that little foothold; he said he'd have been happier in boots on that hold. At the top we met Scotty and Dicky and Gwendoline and Yappy, who was seconding her up all the 'vd's' she was wanting to lead – climbing barefoot she was keeping us all amused.
We all watched Scotty and Dicky do Javelin Buttress and then Derrick suggested we should try it (he had ticked it in his book, but couldn't remember it). We hadn't a rope up there so Gwendoline lent us hers. It was quite a good pitch to the thread belay – I didn't do it as neatly as I should have like. Dicky's 5'5½" hadn't been able to reach the hold on the mantelshelf properly, neither could Derrick's 5'6", so he had a rope down from Scotty. He then dropped his guide, so Dicky went down to recover it and stayed down there watching me. I was an age, although 2" shorter than Derrick I could just reach the hold, but I couldn't use it as I was stretched too much. I tried a sort of lay-back method, but Dicky told me it would never do, and then I moved my left foot further out to the left, that gave me just that extra bit of height I needed and I was able to get up. I was most indignant when Dicky said "tight rope Derrick". but he was only meaning Derrick to take in the slack (I expect Derrick had given up hope of my ever getting up!). Above the mantelshelf, I had to go down a little way as I seemed to have my wrong foot up.
We came down the Original Route and were just in time for our tea at Ogwen Cottage. I bought a Glyder Fach guide and we went to Mervyn's where the others were all drinking tea and Derrick got his own rope back and we set off down the Nant Ffrancon. Derrick had wanted to have a taxi down as we were short of time, but I said that Bethesda would be quite soon enough for that. All the cars were full at first and I was so disappointed for I wanted to make Derrick hitch-hike! Eventually a 20 H.P. Jaguar came along and stopped. Derrick said afterwards that he didn't know how I had the nerve to stop a lovely car like that. The man would put our rucksacks in the back, although there would have been plenty of room for them inside. They took us all the way to the station, where, as the platforms were shut up, we changed in the left parcel office. Here Derrick found that he had lost his wallet; there was no money in it, but his railway pass and clothing coupons etc. He thought it must have dropped out of his climbing jacket when he was carrying it down from the Slabs, so he had a taxi back up the valley to try and get it. We had both been looking forward to company back in the train (although Derrick was spending the night in Crewe). I had my usual miserable wait at Tamworth and got into Nottingham at 7 o'clock.
Barbara and I met Arthur, Jack and John at Nottingham and Peggy, Sid, Marjorie, Ed and Ken at Derby and went to Manchester. We walked across to another station and caught the Wigan train. We had sometime to wait in Wigan. I forget how it started but I know I was running about the station barefoot! Arthur had quite a lot of things emptied out of his pack! Before this we had weighed our packs. Peggy's and mine were quite light at 38 lbs each (light compared with Sid's 62, that is). At Windermere we met Stan and John Sharpe and got taxis to Grasmere (there wasn't time to walk). We left Barbara at Windermere and that was the last I saw of her until the train back. At Grasmere we went to Rothay Bank and had a most marvellous breakfast – dates, porridge, toast and marmalade – they so emphasised that they were vegetarians that I had expected no milk or butter even, let alone eggs and they only charged us 2/-.
It was a perfect morning; there hadn't been a ripple on the lake, as we passed, and I was glad when we got started. We soon stopped and put on sun top and shorts and Peggy repacked my rucksack – she was sure my rope ought to go inside, and sure enough she got it in! After a fight we got going again and went up by Easedale Tarn and down towards Stickle Tarn for our campsite by the river running into the tarn, although we were out of sight of the tarn itself. I must say I found carrying 38 lbs an over-rated pastime (and Peggy, 2 stone lighter than me, enjoyed it!), but it was lovely once we were up there. We had lunch after we had pitched the tents and then watched it cloud over. Soon Arthur, Ken, John S., Stan and I were the only people left awake and we thought Pavey a suitable climbing ground for a showery afternoon. We started up Great Gully, Arthur taking Stan and me, and Ken following on with John. Sometimes the gully sheltered me from the rain and at other times it just dripped down on us, but my jacket is still waterproof.
We had suggested Gwynnes afterwards, but Ken started asking about Rake End – I said I had enjoyed it, although it was just a chimney all the way up, so we all decided on that eventually. Ken thought that the party of two was quicker than the three of us so went in front. Arthur didn't like the first bit, in fact he had a rope down for it.
We were much slower than the others; when we did finish the climb we went on to the top of Pavey. It was well worth it, for it was a lovely evening by then, clouds about still but a light in the sky where the sun had set.
Back in the camp we had supper, firstly soup from Stan and John, then cocoa with Betty's tin of sweetened condensed milk and I ate cheese and dates. We finished up with more soup - Arthur mixed tomato and oxtail.
Arthur appeared in good time to cook the breakfast bacon and dried egg and tomato and then we had marmalade. The weather was good first thing and we were able to have it outside. We set off for Gimmer. I was asked if I wanted to lead and I said yes, if there was a suitable victim, and I looked very hard at Peggy; Peggy agreed to come and I did enjoy the day with her, I think her climbing reminded me of Wyn (I kept calling her Wyn). We started to change into rubbers, but a slight shower stopped us. Eventually Peggy wore rubbers and I was in boots. Although there were a few showers during the day it was really a very good day for Gimmer, no wind and quite warm. Peggy and I, and Arthur and Jack went round to the start of Ash Tree Slabs and tossed for who should go first. I was very glad I won the toss. Right at the top I went slightly to the right, but Peggy came straight up.
We then started up 'B' route; at Amen Corner I went round and up the 'neat bit'. I didn't want to try the corner in boots, and there was no one near, so that if I hadn't been able to do the top I should have had to jump down, which I wouldn't have enjoyed in rubbers, so I left it alone. Peggy had a look at it and then came round my way. I enjoyed Green Chimney. Peggy, like Peter, didn't like the traverse out, into the Crow's Nest. We didn't bother about the final slabs but started down Oliversons. Peggy was so like Wyn on 40 ft Corner. Coming down the last bit, a party who had been doing some good climbs further along, were photographing Peggy.
Coming down we saw Chris Waters on 'Bracket and Slab'. We met the others where we had left our things and had lunch. Peggy then changed into boots and we went up Main Wall – we enjoyed this, despite what Ken had said about it being so boring! – he had then done 'Chimney Buttress'. We went round and started coming down 'Gimmer Chimney'. We met several parties on their way up, including Ken who was almost exhausted after doing the chimney of 'Bracket and Slab' in boots. His verdict was that I must be absolutely underdeveloped if I had enjoyed it in the autumn, but I had been in rubbers. John had one look at it and then came up the easier one. A little further on we met two very sensible 16 year olds – they obviously hadn't done very much though, for they asked us if we had ever done 'Hiatus' (they were meeting, apparently some, for them, thrilling people that day and wondered if we were the same!). Peggy went straight down the lower chimney, but she said she couldn't breathe in it, so I didn't think of that way – the step across is a little more difficult going down than going up. We decided at the Sentry Box that we must be getting tired. We didn't feel it, but Peggy kept deciding she couldn't do easy little bits and I thought I was taking more care than I had done in the morning, so we decided not to finish the climb. Peggy looked at the way down the southeast lower traverse, but came up again. It's so silly to take people down climbs when they're tired, for you can't help them at all, with the rope. Then she tried going down the chimney, but with the same result, so I was very glad when I thought of the other way along the traverse, and we didn't find this difficult. We went back to the camp with the others and had a high tea, corned beef, followed by jam. We found that the rain outside wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded in the tent, so Arthur and I went down the valley to see if there was any sign of Wyn (she had suggested that she might get a lift up on the Sunday). Cyril Bullman hadn't seen her so, after sampling his draught cider, we came back. I had been dreading that walk back up Mill Gill, but when it came I thoroughly enjoyed it. We were up in no time – and it was a perfect evening. Stickle Tarn was perfectly calm and the clouds had mostly gone from the hills.
We had soup for supper – with a little corned beef in it to give it 'body'.
It was very wet early, and Arthur didn't appear till 9.15. We had breakfast and lunch combined I think. When we did eat, we had bacon, dried egg and spaghetti, followed by marmalade.
I packed and struck the tent and set off down the valley, leaving Arthur, Stan and John S. to follow. I left my pack at the new D.G. and went along to Wall End, calling in at the farm and H.F., but there was no sign of Wyn (I was sorry to miss Jack Judson, Marjorie Steele and Lawrie Porter at the H.F.). Back at the new D.G. I found the others having refreshments and joined them. We decided there wasn't time for Scout and went to Middlefell – leaving our packs at the farm. When I said I had never led the first pitch, Arthur started up it, but I did eventually have my way and take the rope up the easy way. Arthur found the top pitch difficult and it was tea time so we hurried down. Stan followed us up with John. At Middlefell we found that the others were also having tea, for it had been so wet for their walk round the tops. We joined the end of the bus queue and then found that they were not running a duplicate. I felt it was all my fault, for I ought to have known what the buses were like, but they had run a duplicate on the Saturday and it didn't occur to me that they wouldn't, on the bank holiday. We started walking to Chapel Stile, looking at all the cars, but it was hopeless for we were the first of the people walking down the valley. We started to queue for the duplicate bus which they had promised, but it didn't come. Someone phoned up and found they weren't sending it, so we went to Mrs. Ward's and she agreed to take us to Windermere at 7.15. We wanted a meal before then; Mrs. Woods said that the 'Langdales' was the only possible place. We called in there, but there was nothing doing so we went to King George V Jubilee seat and started to cook a meal. I went back to the bar of the 'Langdales' and filled our bottles with water and mixed the dried egg. Stan got the primus going and cooked the bacon first of all, then added the corned beef and warmed that up, before on the dried egg. Then, just at the crucial moment the primus ran out of fuel. I went back to the bar, and they filled it with paraffin and we were able to finish the cooking (Stan had kept it warm over his 'meta fuel'). We ate the mixture (all off the same plate) with bread and butter, and finished with dates on bread and butter, with sweetened condensed milk.
We had practically packed before the taxi came. In the train we met Barbara and Eric, who had been staying at Raw Head.
The train was so crowded that we didn't think of getting out at Preston and going through Manchester, and we went on to Crewe. I thought we'd never get into the Tamworth train – we couldn't until someone opened a window – then we got through that!
At Tamworth we spent a few hours in the tea hut and then went onto the platform, half an hour before our train was due. The signalman looked out and we said we were looking for somewhere to make some toast, so he said that he had a fire and said we could come up, and he shared our toasted cheese on toast, and toast and marmalade with us; we were only sorry that there wasn't time to make some tea. We got to Nottingham at 7 o'clock and had breakfast by the canal!
I caught the 5.15 to Crewe and met Rene on the Inverness train. We talked for quite a while and then I went into the corridor for a sleep. We woke up at Perth, and, being in the front of the train, we had the first breakfast in the restaurant car they had put on at Perth. As Rene said, the holiday had started for her.
At Inverness we just got three seats in the Kyle train and then looked round the town. Wyn's train didn't get in till 11.30, but the connection (due out 10.30) waited. It rained most of the way to the coast (it had been misty to Inverness). At Achnasheen I got out and confirmed that the bus did run, should we want to camp by Loch Maree on our way back.
We crossed in the open ferry and at Kyleakin we found that the bus marked 'Portree' was going to Dunvegan, and we got in, but the bus waited for another ferry before setting off, and it was 8 o'clock before we got to Drynoch. The man from the Lodge directed us along the footpath to Drynoch House. It was raining and parts of the footpath were under water and we did wonder whether we were on a wild goose chase, going to the far clump of trees. Also it seemed to me that we were such miles from the Cuillins, but Miss Campbell was waiting for us on the door step.
We had a leisurely breakfast at 9 o'clock and set out quite late. It was dry, but there was mist on the hills. I suggested Bruach Na Frithe 'the easiest hill for the tourist to ascend', which is also the one nearest us. We made our way over the moor to Bealach a' Mhaim and had our lunch a little beyond, on what we hoped was the sheltered side of the ridge. We set off again up Bruach Nan Frithe. Rene had no idea where she was going for she had to take off her glasses to prevent them being blown away. Although the wind was so strong, it didn't blow the mist away, in fact Corrie Na Creiche was just like a cauldron, with the mist blowing up from it. At times Wyn's hair was blown out quite straight away from her face, I've never seen it like that before. We rather crept along the ridge between gusts. At the top we waited for it to clear for a few minutes, but gave it up when we started to get cold and went down over Sgurr Bhasteir and then into the Fionn Corrie. We passed quite close to the Bhasteir and the Tooth, but we hadn't brought ropes, and I was in my old boots, and I was sure we'd be that way again before the end of the holiday, so we didn't bother to have a look at them.
We went back over the moor again, but dropped down to Glen Drynoch about a mile along.
The Cuillins were clear first thing – too clear we thought, but Miss Campbell said it would be all right. We eventually found the phone at Drynoch and rang for a car to Sligachan. We set out, past the keeper's cottage, over the moor towards Sgurr Nan Gillean, which was in the mist by then. About mid-day it started to rain so we had lunch trying to shelter under some rock. It didn't seem like clearing, and our shelter wasn't too good, so we started on and eventually got onto the ridge up the gully between the first and second pinnacles. We went on to the top of the third pinnacle. Here we had a conference and I had to admit that it didn't get any easier, so, as the rain didn't look like stopping, we decided to go down. Rene roped for the first little bit, but, unlike Wyn, I think she quite likes going down. We went down roughly the way we had come and got to the road before 6 o'clock, i.e. in plenty of time for the bus between 6 and 7 o'clock which our taxi driver had told us about. We were still soaking wet by the time we got back.
We decided to have our trip round the island on the Tuesday instead of going to Glenbrittle. There were various reasons for this. Firstly, I had intended that every third day should be easier and we hoped that it would give the weather a chance to clear up. Also, Wyn could collect her parcel which the railway had sent to Portree. Chris and Renée shared the taxi with us, it was the same one as the day before, with a little stool put in for the 5th person.
We spent about an hour in Portree. We did eventually find the food office and then had coffee in the S.C.W.S. café which has such a good view over the harbour.
The Storr really looked like some witches' castle, the rocks, sticking out of the mist. We took the coast road round the north of the island and stopped at the ruins of Duntulm Castle for lunch, which we had by the sea. A shower of rain sent us running back to the car and we continued on to the Borue where we got some petrol – we just helped ourselves after surrendering money and coupons to the house some way away. At Dunvegan we went in the castle and had tea. Back at Drynoch we found that the Cuillins were still in the mist, so we didn't regret the day away from them too much.
We caught the 8.45 to Glenbrittle. We were glad to find that there was room for us in the hostel. After leaving our packs at the hostel, we set out for Corrie Lagan. I had traced out 'Amphitheatre Arête' on the photo from the plan but when we got there I found the climb quite difficult to find. Rene came behind me on Wyn's new rope, and Wyn followed, on my old one. At the top of the gully we had lunch. I started on up the slabs until I thought it time to traverse out, and then realised that I had come too far. I was sorry Rene and Wyn had to go down again.
There were two little pitches at the top where the rope was necessary, otherwise it only seemed like 'class II' to me. We weren't good enough to move together and it took a long time moving one at a time. The weather was quite good, in the morning. Then I was afraid that the mist was going to come down, in fact we were almost in it at lunch time, but it cleared away and it was a glorious afternoon. We had seen Rhum etc. on our way to Corrie Lagan, but it was when we finished the climb and got on the Sron-na-Ciche Ridge that we really got the view – Rhum etc. near at hand and the Outer Isles further to the west, hills all around, so it appeared, on the mainland and the Cuillins appeared as range after range, near at hand. There was lots of blue sky and the sun shining on the sea etc., and also a line of fairly thick clouds near the horizon, i.e. the view was much too good to be true.
We had tea, coiled the ropes, and went on over Sron-na-Ciche to Sgumain. I had forgotten what an interesting scramble this was. After Sgumain, Rene decided she had had quite enough rock for one day and didn't want to go up Alasdair (she had been marvellous all day, especially as she claims not to like rock!). At the bealach before Alasdair we went down to Coir'a Ghrunnda – it looked an easier way down than the way to Coire Lagan. Also I knew I'd enjoy the walk home from there, but I'd forgotten about Wyn. She was very disappointed at missing out Alasdair and how she hated the way home through the bog. Somehow the hills round the corrie looked almost tame in the sunshine. They were mostly huge lumps of rock, no sheer rock faces (apparently). I think a little mist improves Coir'a Ghrunnda.
We joined the Coire Lagan track just the other side of the Lochan and got down to Glenbrittle before 9 o'clock. I called at Macrae's, but Nancy didn't seem to recognise me. Back at the hostel, we joined the scrum over the fire – as another hosteller said – he'd rather be at Waterloo station on a bank holiday! There was plenty of hot water so we soon got our tea which was the main thing. The rest of the meal consisted of cheese on toast and then the soup – tomato soup with Wyn's mashed potato added!. We had to drink this out of our mugs as we were short of plates and spoons. It was a glorious evening, we kept going out to look at the hills as the shade got higher and higher on them, but apparently our view was nothing like the one they had had at Drynoch, where, they said, it was just as though different coloured lights were being shone on them.
We got up at 7 o'clock and were able to have our breakfast in comfort (beans on toast, followed by marmalade on bap). It had been raining before we got up, but we couldn't believe that the weather had broken after only one day of heat wave. We left our packs at the hostel, and set out in good time to enquire at the post office about the boat. Mr. Chisholm told us that Mr. Campbell was already on his way up to the hostel. Before we got to the bridge another boat (Hetty) arrived. We forded the river and spoke to the boatman who said he was going to the hostel to fill up the boat. While we were waiting for him to come back "Puffin" arrived and went off with a full load. It was about 11 o'clock when we eventually started. It soon began to rain, the other people in their macs and capes seemed much more sensibly dressed than us. We landed about 1 o'clock; the fisherman was most concerned about us. He knew we hadn't been over the pass before, and everyone else was going back by boat and he thought we ought to do the same. Even if we had intended doing this, we were so cold and wet from the one journey that I don't think we could have faced another (the covered "Puffin" seemed a much better idea than our open "Hetty").
We soon got warm walking and, although the rain just teemed down the whole way, we kept warm and were quite happy. We walked along by Coruisk, not exactly admiring it! and stopped about a mile beyond for lunch, hoping that a huge chunk of rock was sheltering us. We started up towards Bealach Coire na Banachdich, checking our route with the compass, which seemed quite helpful for once. The book seemed to expect the pass only to be used the other way round, but we reversed the instructions and traversed to the right half way up. When we started there was mist on the tops and I was so afraid it was coming down lower, but it began to clear as we got nearer it and then formed again in some of the more distant valleys below us. The view the day before had been just about perfect, yet I shall remember those views from the pass just as much. There was something so realistic about it, with the rain pouring down on us. We set off down the pass, traversing to the left. There was quite thick mist on this side, but soon it cleared for a moment and we recognised Window Buttress (not that we really had any fears that we were wrong, in fact I was the only one who showed any pleasure in recognising an old friend).
We called in at Macrae's and asked for the car to call for us at the hostel at 6 o'clock. I had time to change before that.
Back at Drynoch, Miss Campbell was very pleased to see us, apparently she had started worrying when we weren't on the afternoon bus.
The weather didn't seem any better so we had an off-day and went to Port Na Long to see the tweed. In Carbost we passed the distillery (the most picturesque looking 'factory' I have ever seen) and then went by the footpath by the coast to a place by a stream where it was wooded, for lunch. (We varied the sandwiches by adding the fish paste we had bought in Carbost.) In Port na Long, Rene and I sat on the pier for some time, sheltering from a shower and then we went back, picked up Wyn and called on Miss Mackay at no. 9. She let us look at the patterns and we saw the hand loom being worked. We walked back along the road through Carbost and then cut off through the meadow to the Graveyard. What a wonderful way that was, to walk through the globe flowers and fragrant orchids. What a spot for a ghost story the graveyard would be on a dark night!
With Renée and Chris who were leaving us, we had breakfast at 6.30 and caught the 8 o'clock bus to Luib. I was so afraid that the morning had started too well; it wasn't like Wednesday, there were lots of clouds about, but the Cuillins were clear and soon there was lots of blue sky. We walked down Sratha Mhoir, keeping to the east side, because we couldn't cross the stream, but I think that was the shortest way in the end. We had our first lunch just before Loch Slapin and then went up an easy way over the S.E. Ridge down from Sgurr nan Each. Over the ridge we stopped and looked out the way. We were rather puzzled for the 1" map didn't mark Clach Glas . From the book we gathered that this was the lump on the right, but we could only see one summit of Blaven. Reading it up the night before I didn't bother about Clach Glas, I thought that the easiest way up Blaven would be quite enough for us in the rain and mist. When the time came, with the sun shining, even if it didn't last, we couldn't help but try Clach Glas, and we thought that the easy rake would be suitable (we had one rope with us in case we found anything difficult). I thought that the path marked on the diagram went along the foot of Clach Glas. We were already some way up, so we found a traverse round which led onto our rake. When we started, the way was ridiculously easy and I saw that we weren't the first people to have gone that way, but it was a long time before it dawned on me that that was the way marked on the diagram (i.e. the path went round the foot of the crags, not the foot of the hill). However, it was a grand feeling while it lasted, to think we had picked out our own way up and for it to turn out a very good way. (I can't be a rock climber at heart I suppose, to be glad that a way's easy!) When we got to the N.E. ridge, we could see over towards the western Cuillins, the mist was just coming down on the tops. We went up to the top of Clach Glas for lunch. We didn't rope at all. Rene was almost indignant when I suggested that we should, for I think I'd have been happier on the slabs roped. It was a lovely way though, lovely looking slabs, but the climbing was easy when you came to it.
We went down to the Bealach before Blaven – looking back, I could well believe that the final arête looked formidable when approached from below. At the Bealach we were in the mist which had been gradually coming down on Blaven, and, according to the book, the way up was difficult to find in the mist, but the 12 ft wall was very wet and slimy, the 60 ft chimney was interesting and after that it was just a walk.
Three o'clock was the latest time I had thought we could allow for the top, and it was just after 3 when we got up, so there wasn't any time to spare to see if the mist would clear. We had just started down when it did clear, only in patches, but that is my favourite way of seeing a view. I quite enjoyed the way down the stone shoot, but the others found the scree rather scanty after I had finished with it. Blaven was quite clear by the time we got down and it was a lovely walk along the glen. It was the first time I had been that way, so I didn't find it boring, and the hills to the right were clear and those to the left in mist, and the sun was shining. As for the path being stony, how easy it was to walk on compared with the usual bog!
At Sligachan we met Yappy, and Dicky arrived on a motor bike, and they were so optimistic about the weather, telling us how high the barometer was.
The mist was on the hills, so we set out even later than the previous Sunday and had lunch before we got to the pass. We went a little way up the Fionn Corrie. The drizzle had stopped and we thought that the sun wasn't very far behind the mist, so we sat down to sunbathe. We knew that the sun wouldn't really come out that day, and I couldn't fire the others with any enthusiasm to have a closer look at the Bastier, so we came down again, in good time.
We had asked for an early breakfast (8 o'clock) and so we set out, although the weather was bad. Once over the pass and in Glenbrittle the weather was much worse, so we went all the way. We didn't know what to do, so we went to the post office for a chat with Willy and Jock to pass the time. The weather didn't seem improving so we thought we'd walk back to Slig. the easy way and Willy suggested that we looked at the fairy pools in Corrie na Creiche. We set off up the road and kept on the same side of the river; we saw lots of pools and thought it time to cross over, but this was easier said than done. It wasn't that we were trying to keep dry for we were practically wet through already, but we just couldn't cross the streams, the water was coming down with so much force. We had to go practically up to Fheadain to cross the streams. When we got onto the proper track, it was about 1.10. We knew it wouldn't take us long to get to Slig., and the bus wasn't till after 6 o'clock and we were so wet that we decided to catch the Glenbrittle bus after all. We had lunch on the road, while waiting for the bus. The bus took so long to come, after we had first seen it through the mist, that we thought we could have walked back nearly as quickly.
We caught the Glenbrittle bus again and this time got out at the bridge, for there was only mist on the tops. We went round Sgurr Thuilm, gradually gaining height and so on to Tairneilear and had lunch just before Fox's Rake led off on the right. The mist showed no signs of lifting, so we went on up the Rake. At the top I kept to the right for the book said that the chimney to the left is usually taken, and I knew that Wyn wasn't very fond of chimneys. This way of mine involved us in one step which Rene didn't enjoy. It was the loose block on the top, which complicated matters, but Rene successfully 'swam' up it. We went on up the ridge leading from Thuilm, at one point we did notice that the way became very well scratched, but didn't think anything of it and continued on until we found that the ridge went down in front of us. Then we realised that we were on the main Cuillin Ridge and had gone along the top of the southern peak of Mhadaidh. We turned back to the northern end of this ridge and sat down for a snack and I got out the book and recognised from a photo the little pinnacle in front of us (there was no sign of the mist lifting). Wyn and I found the scrambling over all the tops very interesting, but not Rene. She thought it just boring; one piece of rock was just like another to her in the mist!
We were a little later than I had intended and Rene didn't fancy more rock, so we decided to go down to Corrie na Creiche again, instead of over Bidein and Harta Corrie as we had originally intended. Before we started down, the mist cleared once and we were able to see down to Coruisk. Down in the corrie we were so surprised to find a really good path at the foot of Fheadain, which we followed to the top of the pass. It was a very easy way up, Wyn was glad of it I expect, for she had tripped over a heather stem. It was lovely in the sun (although the mist didn't clear from the tops all day), firstly among the heather and ferns, and then along the hillside, watching the rabbits, including two black ones. We were down at Slig. at about 5, in plenty of time for tea; it was a nice tea, but we hardly enjoyed it for 'hikers' have to eat in the chauffer's room! The respectable (non-climbing) people in the hotel seemed rather ashamed of the place though, for quite a number of them came out to speak to us while we were waiting on the bridge for our bus. We got tired of waiting at nearly 7 o'clock and started to stroll up the road, and stopped at the path to the keeper's cottage, where some other people were waiting (we were glad someone else was waiting, for we had begun to think that the bus was all a myth). The bus eventually arrived at 7.20, it had to go to Sconser.
When Wyn woke up she thought her leg was hurting, so decided not to catch the Glenbrittle bus, with Rene and me. I persuaded Rene to come by promising her a walk instead of a scramble. It was a much better morning, but we had the bus to ourselves and when we got out we were asked if we were joining in the search, so we wanted to know what search.
I started to ask if they wanted volunteers, but Rene immediately said that she didn't feel capable of looking for anybody, which let us out beautifully. Having said that, Rene then hared along all day and got us back by 6.15! We went up Coire na Banachdich, the way we had come down in the rain from Coruisk, stopping on the way at 11 o'clock for our first lunch.
At one place there was a square yard by a stream, which was green, among all the rocks, and there were globe flowers growing there. We went on over all the tops of Banachdich, having lunch in a sheltered spot by one of them. The views were lovely all the way; at first the tops were almost clear, but then the mist seemed to blow up from Glenbrittle, but most of the way along there were views towards Coruisk. We saw again the turquoise of Loch Scavaig, which had so fascinated us the year before from the 'Dubhs'. I was glad the mist didn't get any thicker for I was so afraid Rene would get bored and want to come down before Ghreadaidh, but we went over this after Sgurr Thormaid and then cut over onto the col between Sgurr Thuilm and Mhadaidh – this was the most interesting part of the whole walk – and found the way down to our little path very easy.
We had tea at the bottom and then went up to the top of the pass, seeing the same black rabbit on the way and then walked home over the moor which was our Sunday's walk.
It poured with rain most of the day, so we decided to make this our off-day. We spent most of the morning packing our parcels, and then in the afternoon took them to Portree to post them. They got pretty wet just carrying them to the bus.
In Portree we seemed to spend most of the time queuing for Miss Campbell's bread in the pouring rain, but we did get tea, a tour of the book shops, and watched them unloading a ship in the harbour. The harbour looked rather nice in the rain, it looked as though it was leading into more hills of the Cuillin standard.
It was a very interesting ride back. A little RAF fellow was singing Hebridean sort of chants which we all wanted to listen to, but a fellow who had had a few too many at Slig. was on to Wyn (when he remember to speak in English) to sing an English song – apparently he was mixing her up with a girl at the hostel.
I was really disappointed that Friday was as bad as the day before, for I wanted to do some climbing to finish up the holiday. The others had no plans for the morning, so I put on my cape, rolled up my trousers and went over to the bog and picked flowers and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Back at Drynoch I arranged them in the rose bowls.
In the afternoon we walked along by the coast; I was in un-nailed shoes, so it wasn't too good in the rain, but it was a lovely coastline, the honeysuckle and the roses growing right down to the sea. We went up by Meadale Burn and back by the road. The stream was lovely, it was brown like treacle and quite calm; where there was a fall, it was tinted brown, like so many of the falls in Skye.
The weather was just as bad again, but we hoped it would be better on the mainland. We had the 6.30 breakfast again and caught the early bus. At Kyleakin we crossed on the small covered ferry. It was pouring on the train, so we started eating our camping rations – Wyn opened her tin of cheese, and at Achnasheen we stayed on the train instead of getting the bus to Loch Maree and came home.
At Inverness we had 'high tea' (so they called it) at Burnetts – sole and roast potato, finishing with strawberries and ice cream. This was the end of the holiday, as Rene put it, for there wasn't a restaurant car on our train. We caught the 4.55 train, which took Wyn to Preston and I got out at Crewe.
I got back 11.30 or so.
We caught the 6.17 train and had the usual changes at Derby, Crewe and Chester. All the trains were practically empty, much to our surprise. We got out at Bangor and got a taxi to the other side of Bethesda. We walked along the road, over the river and found a footpath. We went a few yards along this and came to a level patch and stopped there, lit a candle and got out our sleeping bags and went to sleep. I woke up several times during the night with the rain and the midges, and eventually we got up (none of us had a watch) and put on our capes and walked back to Bethesda for breakfast, at no. 8, I think it was.
We (Jack, Arthur and I) had just started when we saw Ed go along the road, so we called him in; he had come on a later train.
There was a bus up the valley at 10.50, but we didn't want to wait for it, and started walking. At Mervyn's we had tea and cakes and changed into boots and started up for Llyn Bochlwyd, after I had left half of my gear at Mrs. Williams. I felt a brute walking up with a light pack when the others were carrying so much, but I didn't offer to help them, for I thought that they could easily have done the same as me if they thought the same of heavy packs as I do.
After something to eat we set out for Cwm Idwal. We were undecided between the slabs and the upper cliff of Glyder Fawr, but the slabs looked comparatively dry, so we eventually went down there. Arthur only had his walking boots, so he changed into rubbers and intended to do Hope, but it was wet higher up so we eventually followed Ed and Jack up Faith, although I was disappointed at not doing a fresh climb. Our party had to have a rope down from some other climbers for the awkward step, so I felt I must have been quite good that time when Eric and I did it in the wet. When it came to my turn I went straight up, and I think that way is easier than the traverse. At the top we found that the original route up Holly Tree Wall was wet. Our friends of the 'awkward step' were on 'Lazerus' and they seemed to say that it was difficult in parts and too wet to lead in rubbers. I was asked if I wanted to lead it (for I was in boots) and I said 'no', thinking at the time that it was because I had climbed badly on the slabs, but as soon as we started down, I realised it was pure laziness, and was mad with myself.
We came down the Original Route; it is certainly several degrees harder in boots. We went down for the inevitable tea and cakes at Mervyn's and then I collected my things from Ogwen Cottage. While I was packing the rucksack, Cyril had seen me through the window and came out to speak to us, and offered to show us over Milestone Cottage the next day.
On the way up to the camp, Arthur decided to do Arête and Slab on Bochlwyd Buttress; of course, Jack and Ed (who weren't bothering about another climb) offered to carry my pack for me, but I wouldn't let them. I thought that as I hadn't helped them in the morning, I couldn't accept help from them. I found the 'arête' quite good with a rucksack and then Arthur (in his walking boots) couldn't start on the slab part and when he suggested that I should look at it, to make up for my silly decision on Holly Tree Wall, I agreed, and we hauled up the pack. My shoes dropped out of it on the way, so we had to go back to the foot of the cliff to recover them.
It was getting dark by the time we got back to the camp, where we found John Goldsworthy and learned that Stan Mason was sleeping in the car and would be up in the morning.
It wasn't an ideal camping night, the wind was making too much noise on the tent, and at one time a peg came out, although we thought we had put rocks on them all. We woke up about 9.30, but there was quite a wet mist so it didn't seem too bad making such a late start.
We went up to the col and then along Heather Terrace to the foot of North Buttress. I had never done this before, so I expect I found it more interesting that the others. John eventually led up the first groove. When it came to my turn I found the first few feet a little strenuous, then higher up I found that my feet fitted into the crack beautifully. At the top, John took Ed and Stan up the rest, and I was asked if I wanted to lead Arthur and Jack, so I said 'yes', knowing that it was only a scramble (and still remembering 'Holly Tree Wall'). We had lunch on the terrace and then went up to the top (via the final chimney) and so back to camp for a meal.
The five of us then went down to Milestone Cottage, leaving Stan behind. We found Cyril hard at work cementing in the windmill which generates their electricity. We found the atmosphere in the hut rather luxurious, but enjoyed the tea, also talking to Cyril.
We walked back in the dark and the had tea and soup.
It was a glorious night, every time I woke up I put my head out to see the hills, and they were different each time. Eventually I looked out and found that the sun was quite low on the Gribin, so I got up and got the tea, and woke up the others, just as the sun showed from behind Tryfan. The weather didn't look so promising after breakfast, so I struck 'the annexe' while it was still fine, and we set off for Glyder Fach. Arthur took Jack and me up Delta while the others did Beta. Then John joined onto me and the four of us did the Chasm. We waited a long time at the Vertical Vice; eventually John went down and gave Arthur a rope down for it. We came down the gully and back to camp for tea before setting off for the road. We said goodbye to Jack and Ed who were spending the rest of the week in Wales and left John and Stan at Ogwen Cottage, and walked down the road till the bus overtook us. On this we joined up with a lad from Stoke who had met Arthur on Gritstone. We spent our time in Bangor having a meal (fresh Salmon).
We came back via Birmingham, but I found that way even worse than Tamworth.
I caught the 7.55 with Peggy, Freda and Bernard, who were on their way to Skye. At Grantham our train was very crowded, but I was very happy on the floor, and Peggy, in her sleeping bag, seemed to have a good sleep. At York, Douglas joined us, and Arthur came to see us. We stayed some time at a junction outside Glasgow, and when they brought in the train we were to be hitched onto, on the other side of the platform, we got into it, and had a carriage to ourselves. Freda and Peggy both spoke to the attendants in the restaurant car, and they promised to fetch us for the first breakfast.
It was a lovely breakfast, along by Loch Lomond, the Ben almost appeared snow capped. There was just time for a cup of tea at Crianlarich, before I had to get out at Tyndrum. I was disappointed that the bus wasn't till 11 o'clock, so I started walking along the road. It was a glorious walk, with the sun nearly shining, and I thought the clouds were going to blow away. The bus eventually picked me up by Loch Tulla and I had a glorious ride across Rannoch Moor. A little boy next to me pointed out everything, including 'the Chasm', apparently his brother was a climber. Buchaille Etive had its top in the mist, but it looked grand, it was a lovely ride down Glencoe. At Clachaig I found that I was the first of the party to arrive and I thought that, after lunch, I would set out for Ossian's Cave, as the Polaris had planned, but very soon, Ann, Bob, Bruce, Jinny and Harold arrived, and in the afternoon we set out up Dinner-time Buttress. It was a terrific slog up and then there was so little climbing; I only did one pitch. I was following Harold, and the last up, and, after the first pitch, it was raining, and the others, saying that there was only one more pitch, and a long way up to the top of the ridge from there, were coming down, and we all ran back to Clachaig. Soon George arrived with David, Lilian and Norah.
It was arranged that the same six of us who were out on the Saturday should go in Jim's car to Buchaille Etive. We left the car at the nearest point and set out across the boggy ground, over the river, and up to the foot of the Crowberry. It was a lovely day, but the whole place was so crowded, there were about 7 ropes on the Crowberry direct, and 3 or 4 on the North Buttress, whose progress we watched, and then there were others; for instance, the fellow Harold was talking to, who was going up and down 'vs's', even after they were wet.
We had lunch in the sun, at the foot of the climb, and then I followed Bruce and Jim up. I found Grieg's Variation most peculiar and awkward. I thoroughly enjoyed the climb. The others were disappointed in it, but I found it much more of a climb than I had expected, and the views over Rannoch Moor so different from anything else I have known. The views were grand, but the top of the Ben was in mist. From the top we hurried down the Curved Ridge, between showers, and back to the car, just before a very heavy shower. We got back to Clachaig in time for tea – it was worth hurrying back for - cream cakes and pancakes.
Jim had gone home, the rest of us went up towards Bidean. It was quite a good way up until the final few hundred feet; I found the large scree and moss that much too far. We enjoyed our lunch at the foot of the Church Door, and then I roped up behind Bruce, George and Lilian. I liked the first little chimney; in the next, long step, I rather put my chin over a piece of rock to balance. I was disappointed in the next few pitches, which were scrambling over grassy ledges, but the rock scenery became very interesting at the arch, and the final pitch was pleasant, even if it wasn't what we had been led to expect from the book.
Lilian and I hurried on to the top of Bidean Nam Bian and had a view down towards Loch Etive before the mist came up (and the others arrived). There had been fair views all round, but as always the Ben was in mist. We came home over An t-Sron. We were too far to the right at one point, and had to traverse back up – a little further on, we hurried to catch up Bob and see the Brocken Spectre, not a particularly good one, I should imagine, but the first I had seen. We had a little bit of trouble getting out of a gully, otherwise it was a quick way down. Back at Clachaig, we met Vera, who had arrived that evening, and learned all about the currents and islands in Loch Leven from David and Harold, who hadn't succeeded in catching any fish.
George had wanted to know what I wanted to do; of course, I said I wanted to make the most of the fine weather and climb. Vera also wanted to climb, as she had only just arrived and Bruce agreed to take us. He chose 'No. 3 Buttress' on Stob Corrie Nam Beith. I enjoyed the walk up to it; it wasn't too far, we had lunch at the foot of the climb and then roped up. It was only a scramble the whole way, but practically unscratched, and Bruce picked a very good line. Although there was nothing in the climb we kept getting the impression that we were on something really steep – looking back that is, for, ahead, the rocks always looked very broken. There was one place at the top where there was an interesting few feet, but it could be avoided on the right, which rather spoilt it. We had a thrilling moment though, one perched block I had tested and then used to press down on, to get up. Vera had seen me do this, and when her turn came she tested it and then started to pull up on it. Fortunately she was able to swing to the side when it came down.
It was much clearer than it had been before and all the way up the climb more and more of the hills to the north came into view, including the Ben. How we envied Bob and Ann who had got round to it by motor-bike. At the top of Stob Corrie we got the view to the south, over Loch Etive to Mull etc. Although we had climbed about 1300 ft we had made good progress as Bruce and Vera had climbed together, and we were able to run down in plenty of time for tea.
The day before we had decided on the ridge, but when the time came, the party didn't think the weather was good enough, although I thought it was very good as holiday days go, and just right for ridge walking (breezy with the mist coming and going about the top). Vera had the brilliant idea of walking over to Creagan and catching the train back to Ballachulish. I was all for this, for I felt I had missed something in not arriving by train this way. Eventually, most of the party favoured a walk in our direction, but we were so late in starting that I was afraid that the alternative route, back to Ballachulish, would be all there'd be time for. The final route we took bore no resemblance to the original one. We started up the Allt na Muidhe all right, but then bore left up the slopes of Creag Bhàn, having lunch on the way. We continued along the ridge over Meall Lighiche and Meall An Aodainn from where we dropped down to the Lochan. Next, the party decided that the tea at Clachaig was better than that obtainable at Ballachulish (or was it that it looked a long way up over the pass?), so we went straight back home, over, as the others said, half the bogs in Argyll. It had been a grand day for this walk, a few showers and that was all. The ridge had looked very inviting though, the whole time, with the mist coming and going along the pinnacles.
The weather seemed a little worse than the day before, so I thought that the party would never set out that day, as I settled down with a book and my knitting. However, I had reckoned without Bob; very soon he got Ann, Nora, Lilian, Bruce and George keen on the ridge and ordered sandwiches and started ferrying us up the road on his bike. He took George and me first of all – I've never felt so like a sardine in all my life, squashed between Bob and George! George and I were left to walk the last mile up the road while Bob fetched the others and the lunches. We had lunch near the top of the ridge in as sheltered a spot as possible, just before the rain started. We then continued on up and along the ridge. It was a grand day for it, not too wet and windy, and we had fair views through the mist which wasn't nearly as thick on the north side as on the south; in fact, it rather clung to the south side, looking nice from the distance. Aonach Eagach was very interesting, but not at all difficult; it did narrow once or twice, but on the whole it was a wide grassy way. We went on over Sgorr nam Fiannaidh where the mist was thicker, and then started to drop down to the north of Clachaig, down a gully. We soon got tired of the loose stones in the gully and traversed out on the left (looking down the hill), but there were several other shallow gullies to cross. We were down in good time for George to have his tea before catching the 4.30 bus.
The weather seemed steadily deteriorating, but Bob was determined to try the gully behind the house. We set out rather late and didn't take sandwiches and ended by having to turn back before the gully really started! There were a few little bits of scrambling, then we roped for one pitch where we got up by bridging, and scrambled up the gully till we came to another pitch where we moved one at a time. Bruce got up it easily enough, but when it came to my turn, I got up it, looking (so I was told) most peculiar. I couldn't find any handholds, so I used footholds on the slab to the right and found it quite a delicate move getting back to the left.
The afternoon was wet, so we stayed in and saw Norah and David off on the 4.30 bus.
It was a lovely day; I couldn't understand why the others didn't change their minds and go home on the evening bus instead. However, Vera and I had a wonderful time, the only party on Buchaille Etive Mor.
We caught the bus with the others, but got out at the nearest point to the hill, and made our way over the bog and up to the foot of the climb for lunch. I found the little slab below the cairn distinctly more difficult than the last time; I hoped that my climbing wasn't steadily deteriorating. We tossed to see who should lead the first pitch and I won the toss and Vera led through up the second pitch. At Abraham's Ledge, I put on rubbers, determined to have a look at the traverse, although I felt rather foolhardy, as no-one had tried it the time before. The footholds were more than adequate for rubbers and I soon saw that the only difficulty was getting round the little corner; I eventually managed this and the rest was easy. I had put on a running belay, just as a matter of form I thought, but Vera told me afterwards that it stayed on beautifully and she wasn't at all worried. I was rather ashamed of myself that I didn't make the route look easier and inspire Vera to follow me. I had left my boots just where I had taken them off, for I was rather afraid I should be coming back to them, but when I was up Vera put them in the rucksack and sent it up.
At the top of Buchaille Etive, Vera chose the ridge walk in preference to another climb; I think I was glad, for another climb would have been an anticlimax, I had so enjoyed the Crowberry, even more than the first time. I can't think why, perhaps it was because we had the place to ourselves and we were a small party, also the views were wonderful (a conical peak to the south of Loch Rannoch intrigued us), all the usual hills were showing and the cloud eventually lifted from the top of the Ben, but came down again before we got down from the ridge. It was a grand walk to Stob na Broige from where we dropped down to the Lairig Gartain and walked back to the road in time, we hoped, to walk back to Clachaig if necessary. Just before we got back to the road, a lorry and two cars passed, going our way, and we were afraid that that was all we'd see for a long time, but we needn't have worried, another car came along as soon as we got to the road and stopped. They were just sightseeing down the valley, so Vera persuaded them that the old road was much more picturesque than the new, with the result that we were dropped at Clachaig at 5.45, and had tea.
It was rather a merry evening, with Mr. and Mrs. Lyall and Tom and Bob (with the help of the whisky the boys had brought).
It was misty first thing, but Mrs. MacNiven said it was going to be a good day and I quite believed her. Vera and I set out for Diamond Buttress and had lunch at the foot of it; we were disappointed that the mist was still on the tops, but I was still optimistic (although Vera had more sense). Then, before we started to climb, the mist began to roll up from the valley. We started up by the cairn – there were a few faint scratches, but the cairn seemed to us to be at the lowest point, not to the left of it where the easy route up the buttress was supposed to start. I thoroughly enjoyed the first 60 ft but then the climbing petered out and we just meandered about along the grassy ledges, with occasional steps up on rock between. The holds, even at the bottom had been wet and slimy, and then the grass and moss and muck was added to it. We didn't want to avoid the difficulties by traversing onto the scree to the left, so, at first, we kept well to the right, and, as it was so mucky, wondered whether we were too far to the right, and traversed back to the left. This brought us to the arête where the loose rock added to the complications, but it was only easy scrambling. Very soon we were at the top of the Buttress, and, as there seemed no sign of the mist clearing, we came down, instead of going to the top of Bidean. We ran down and were in plenty of time for tea. We had a little satisfaction in noting that the mist didn't clear from the tops all that day, i.e. there would have been no point in waiting on the top for the view.
It was pouring at first, but then cleared a little and I put my boots on. That was enough for the weather. There was another very heavy shower, so we stayed in for coffee. By the time we set out, it was much too late for the climb on Stob Corrie nan Lochan, which Vera had picked out and we set off down the road to Glencoe village, which I hadn't seen. About 12.30 we set out up Sgorr na Ciche, or the Pap of Glencoe. It was a really lovely walk; there was no path, so we avoided the bracken and made our way firstly through the bog myrtle, and then up the heather. The colours just couldn't have been better. The blue sky, white clouds, the deep blue of Loch Linnhe and the more grey blue of Loch Leven. The bracken was still quite green, but the heather was at its best, and when we got to the rock, it was white and glistening in the sun. We had lunch half way up and reached the top about 2.10. I think it was because it was such a contrast to the day before, when we were grovelling about on dirty rock in the mist, that I so enjoyed it, but both were grand days in their own way. We hurried back to Clachaig as quickly as we could, cutting down roughly south I should think and got in just before the rain.
We had time for a bath and change before our high tea. Then Dorothy and Jack gave us a fine send off, and came with us to the bus. At Tyndrum, we had a walk while waiting for the train, for it was a lovely evening.
At Lochearnhead, a family got in the carriage and the wife pointed out all the hills to me with quite as much enthusiasm as my young guide had done in the bus on the way to Clachaig.
I left Vera at Stirling and caught my train to Carlisle. My train to Nottingham was practically empty, I had a set to myself. I don't know when I have spent such a comfortable night, and I was in at 5.30 a.m.
It simply poured with rain all day in Nottingham – I even thought of sending Wyn a wire not to come! I caught the usual trains to Chester, where I joined Wyn's train and we talked to the Junction, and then got in the waiting Bettws train and slept quite well. At Bettws, we started walking along the road, until the bus overtook us. From Capel Curig it didn't seem far to 'Tal-y-Wen', and our arrival woke Mrs. Dwyer. After breakfast we walked along the road to the Milestone, and up the Direct Route, having lunch below the final chimney. We continued on up Tryfan. We had intended going along the Heather Terrace, but before we knew where we were, we were above it, so we continued on up the North Ridge, to the top of Tryfan. (After all the rain the day before, it cleared as soon as I left Nottingham and there was quite a nice sunset, so I was quite hopeful of the weather for the weekend, but Saturday was fine, though rather threatening.) At first from Tryfan there was a good view, but then mist started to obscure it (although we didn't get it on Tryfan). There was quite a cold wind, but the east side was sheltered. We put on rubbers and went down to the foot of the Terrace Wall. The rocks here we found were very wet (rubbers were impossible), but this only sounds like an excuse I suppose, for the truth of the matter was that I couldn't find the start of the Variant! We went up the North Buttress route; I was glad to show Wyn Belle View Terrace. I think she appreciated it and, at the top of the climb, we put on our boots and hurried down by the gully, over Heather Terrace and onto the road at about 6 o'clock. Very soon a car stopped (before being asked) and we got a lift to Tal-y-Wen. It was a lady, driven by her son.
We got in just before the rain started, and were very surprised to find that John Goldsworthy had just arrived. He had called at Ogwen Cottage, but they were full and had sent him along to Tal-y-Wen.
It just poured all day (until we left the hills), but, of course, in a weekend, bad weather isn't enough to keep us in. John's car was very useful to us. We walked down to the road (getting very wet on the way) and then were driven to Ogwen Cottage. Bill (I think it was) from Tal-y-wen went to the hostel to keep dry, but Wyn, John and I went on towards Y Garn. We went round in a circle when we first got on the ridge, but then found the way up. The day rather reminded me of that day on the Carneddau in February. There was a strong wind and driving hail (remembering Derrick and Freda's experience in February, I kept well away from the edge).
We sat down on the most sheltered side of the cairn for some chocolate, but we were glad to get going again. We came down to Llyn Idwal. It had been a grand day. I soon got wet through (I didn't think much of my American jacket), but as always on these occasions, our spirits rose as conditions got worse. We had lunch nearly at the bottom, sheltered by a rock. I had nowhere to sit, but I was so wet it didn't matter. Halfway down, we had got out of the mist and, looking back, we were amused to see the streams which should have been coming over the cliffs, being blown back up again. John drove us back to Tal-y-wen for a hot bath and change before our high tea, and then he took us to Llandudno Junction where we caught the 5.40 (or so) train. As soon as we turned north, away from the hills, we left the rain, and the coast was almost shining on the coast (although the roads were wet), while the south was still in mist. I left Wyn again at Chester. In the refreshment room, I met Bill again and he was with John who seemed to think he was an old acquaintance of mine! He had seen me in a train on the way back from Wales earlier in the year. Then, he said he had seen me in Glencoe – he was going through on the back of a lorry, on his way back from Skye.
For the rest of my journey I trained to Derby, bus'd to Chilwell, and caught the staff bus to Nottingham.
Jack and I caught the 9.6 to Tamworth, picking up Geoff at Derby. At Tamworth, we found the tea room shut, so we walked round the town and then found the ladies waiting room very comfortable, with its fire, and the porter to announce the trains. In the next train we found Ed in our corridor. At Crewe we got a train going right through to Windermere; Jack got up on the rack and I had a seat to myself and 'took a short course of death' – according to Geoff. Half the railway officials of Preston got in the corridor outside our compartment to inspect some damage there (done before Crewe), but I slept through it all to Carnforth, where someone asked us where we were for. At Windermere, we met Arthur who had got in our train at Lancaster; we settled down in the waiting room and Jack supplied us with cocoa. At 7 o'clock, Marjorie and Doug arrived from the Ambleside hostel and, as early as we thought we dared, we made our way to the Elleray where John was staying, and persuaded them to get us breakfast at 8.15.
It was a glorious morning, sunny and frosty. We went over Orrest Head and then along a green lane (Garbourne Road) and eventually along the ridge, having lunch quite early. We went over Ill Bell, Froswick and Thornthwaite Crag. We left our packs there and went on to the top of High Street. Anything less like a high street I can't imagine, just a flat lump with a trig. post in the middle (the top was broken so it was as much as two of us could do to stand on it, there was no question of the third getting up. We played with some ice and then went back to our packs and down over Grey Crags – a very steep descent – to Hartsop. From here we phoned up for tea at Patterdale, after which we went up the road to the hostel, Goldmill House. We were practically the only people there, but we didn't get on too well with the wardens (although they thawed afterwards). Marjorie and I went out to meet the bus, hoping Derrick would be on it, but he wasn't and we met Wyn instead. She wasn't there when we arrived, and I almost believed the 'Polaris' that she wouldn't turn up. I spent the evening knitting mostly, but was just in the middle of a pepper fight when Derrick arrived – it was 10 o'clock and he didn't get his supper.
We set out about 9.20. It was a lovely walk, by Angle Tarn (a wonderful little bit of water, I thought), and then we went up into the mist. Soon we had lunch, and then on in the mist over The Knott, Rampsgill Head, High Raise, Red Crag, Wether Hill, to Load Pot Hill. By then we were in glorious sunshine, and it was a day very like Saturday, frosty and hazy. On the last hill we made towards a sort of monument. When we got closer we found that it was the chimney of a cottage (Lowther House). We sat in the sun and knitted and said goodbye to Wyn, Marjorie, John and Arthur, who, by catching the 3.30 from Pooley Bridge, could get home that night. Eventually we set off, and went to Bonscale Pike to admire the view, and then over Arthur's Pike and Whinny Crag, and down through lovely coloured bracken and then through a wood which would have been a real lesson to the afforestation people, to Pooley Bridge for tea. The private hotel seemed to be run entirely by children. There wasn't a grown-up in sight, but the children were most efficient. We walked mostly by road to Penrith and trained to Carlisle, where we left Derrick. The refreshment room was shut, but Jack got round the NAAFI girl and the food was much better than railway sandwiches.
We saw Ed off on the Leicester train and caught the 12.32; Doug and Geoff got out at Sheffield, and Jack and I got to Nottingham about 5.30.
I caught the 9.06 to Tamworth again, this time with Phyl. The tea hut at Tamworth was open this time and there was a lovely open fire there and we enjoyed the spam sandwich. At Crewe we met Annette and Doris, and caught the Whitehaven train to Foxfield. From the train it looked a glorious day. At the 'Black Bull' we had tea and biscuits as soon as we arrived; next, Mrs. Robinson took Phyl and me across the road to Mrs. Knipe's where we were staying, and we all had breakfast at about 9 o'clock. We set out for Dow several hours later, and had lunch in the cave, where we changed into rubbers. We were in the mist, but it was fine and really a lovely day for climbing, although the rocks were cold to the hands. There was frost on the grass as we got higher. I followed Biddy Wells up Giants Crawl. She led, although she offered the lead to me. We then went up and round 'A' Buttress and down Easy Gully, where we found that two parties had started up 'Gordon and Craig', so we followed on. All the way up I was waiting for the traverse. Then, when I got up one pitch which I didn't remember at all, I found that the others had unroped, thinking they were at the top of the climb. I insisted that I must do the traverse before I finished the climb, so we looked at the book and found that it started about 10 ft lower down, so we went down and found it. Certainly it was only a garden path, but it is in a wonderful position and I wasn't disappointed. I was rather dreading that 'dreadful' last pitch, but when I came to it I found that it had shrunk to at least half the size I remembered. In fact I seemed to be able to reach right over the top!
We made our way slowly back to Coniston, leaving some of them to do Branch Chimney'. We got in just before the rain.
That evening Dorothy Smith and Freda Rylatt arrived.
It was a doubtful morning, but about half a dozen of us set off for Dow. I was to lead Pat up a moderate, as my 'test-piece'. Freda took Mary up 'Woodhouse's' and I came next with Pat, and Joan followed on with Winifred. After the steep wall, Freda tried a variation on the right. I wanted to do the usual little chimney on the left. I asked Pat if she liked chimneys, she said 'yes', so we set off up it, and Freda followed on for she found that her variation didn't 'go'. (It was all wrong for me to be first up, but it saved time for my party to get out of the way, while Freda was coming down.) I didn't do the chimney at all well. I got much too far in. In the wet I agreed with the book that the 'easy-angled slab' wasn't as easy as the angle would indicate. None of us could do the last pitch.
It was a glorious morning; how sorry Phyl. etc. were that they were going. Evelyn and one or two of them were going over to Langdale for their last day. I was surprised to see Jean MacArthur in Coniston; she was staying at Monk Coniston. Eventually, we set out for Dow; how I enjoyed that walk. I don't know why it made such an impression on me. It was just the right temperature for one thing, and it was so clear, and the colours so good. It seemed like the old days to look down from the cave onto the nearly black Goatswater, but I didn't get my view out towards the sea; there was a line across the sky in that direction. Joan and I were optimists about the weather, but Winifred had more sense! After lunch we started up Lazarus (directed by three youths who had just come down 'C'). The very moment we started climbing the rain started. Joan led us up to the foot of the last pitch, she had a look at it, but then we all agreed that 'C' ordinary would be interesting enough in that weather – a fairly strong wind had sprung up with the rain, and it was cold too. We hurried down Easy Terrace, and then back to Coniston. I tried to dry my clothes a little before catching the 6.30 or so train. I changed at Foxfield, Carnforth, Crewe, Tamworth and Derby. At Tamworth, I had the tea hut to myself.
Jack called for me and we caught the usual train, picking up Doug in Derby and Ed at Tamworth (we got in the same carriage as last time and found Ed in the corridor). At Crewe we found Stan in the refreshment room and we all got in the Whitehaven train. At Preston, John and Wyn got in and we mostly got seats. Someone said that on the 6 o'clock news they had announced that there was single line traffic running between Preston and Lancaster, so we hoped that that morning's accident wouldn't delay us very much. Eventually we left Preston, but we soon stopped again, and this was repeated several times (I can't remember how many for I was asleep in my own seat and that of the airman who had been sitting next to me. I was so ashamed of myself when I woke up and found that he was asleep leaning backwards over the arm of the seat, and onto the table!). As soon as it began to get light, Doug got out his primus. His little stock of milk and tea was like the five loaves and fishes, it seemed to go such a long way. The officials could tell us nothing and Stan and I had decided that it would be more interesting hitching up than just sitting in the train. We were persuaded to wait for another cup of tea and before we had finished it the traffic had started again. We were most annoyed that they let the Scottish trains through before us, but, after about 6 hours delay, we did get started. The train didn't hurry though, for instance in Barrow we waited some time so that we could be the 1.30 p.m. (the people getting it thought that we were an ordinary train).
It was 2.45 by the time we reached Coniston (instead of 7 a.m.), but it was raining by then. At the Black Bull we found Chris sitting indoors, for, he said it had been raining there all the morning.
At the 'Black Bull' they soon had a high tea ready, and we were jolly glad of it! Afterwards Wyn and I and Doug and John went for a walk towards Monk Coniston. It was still raining, but we were dressed for it. We went towards Monk Coniston, but didn't call. We thought we were a little too wet. We all enjoyed the walk, along by the lake. It was a wild night and Doug rather hinted that the monk of Monk Coniston had a ghost. We could well believe it.
Back at 'the Bull', we found that Bernard, Ken and Bob were still there (they arrived just as we were leaving); they had come over from Raw Head. They hadn't done any climbing that day.
We were down at 8.15 for the 8 o'clock breakfast we had asked for. It was getting on for 10 when we set out in the rain. I did enjoy the walk; perhaps I was remembering the last time I had been that way. Also I was envying the others, coming to Dow for the first time. There was fairly thick mist along the Walna Scar track; we could hardly see Goats Water when we came to it. The others didn't think much of the historic cave and I could hardly blame them. The floor was running with water, and the rain was blowing in. The club seemed to expect me to make up their minds for them, but that was excuse enough for me to suggest climbing, for Dow seems to me to be an all weather crag.
We roped up at the foot of 'C', Chris and Stan started up it, leading through and we left John to take Wyn up it and went round to the foot of 'D' ordinary. Doug took Jack up it and then Ed and I said that we would lead through (the club were so keen that I should do some leading!). I started up the first pitch, but Doug found the next pitch quite awkward in those conditions so he gave Ed a rope down for it. Unlike the last time, I was quite happy on this pitch when it came to my turn. We could just see the others, through the mist going up 'C' parallel to us.
We thoroughly enjoyed it, although we were all shivering when standing still, but on such occasions we soon found something to laugh at which warmed us up quite a bit and stopped us shivering. Certainly we had a lot to laugh at when we thought of the journey we had put up with just for this – the pleasure (?) of sitting in draughty stances with the rain pouring down on us! On Easy Terrace we had a look down South Chimney into the Amphitheatre, but it was very wet and not at all sheltered, so we came back and went the usual way down Easy Terrace, and back to the cave. We ate an apple or so here, but decided to have the rest of our lunch back at 'The Bull' with a cup of tea.
We were back at 2, much to the surprise of Mrs. Robinson and, after hot baths, we had our lunch and dried our things round the fire. Wyn and John had an early meal before having a taxi at 5 to Ulverston.
Once we had left the rocks it stopped raining and, by the time we had got down to the Walna Scar Road, we were below the mist and had a lovely view (comparatively) and we were planning a walk before our next meal, but it soon came onto rain again, after we got back.
It was a lovely meal we had; I shall be very disappointed if I ever have any other meat but chicken at 'The Bull'! The trifle with sherry and cream was nearly as good as the grapes had been the night before with cream and ice cream.
It was dry for our walk from the bus stop to the station in Ulverston. I had enjoyed the bus ride with all the plans we had made for weekends in Wales in May.
We had hoped to get a carriage to ourselves getting in the train at Ulverston, but it was pretty crowded when it arrived. At Crewe we saw Stan off on the Birmingham train and when we got off at Tamworth we left Ed on our train (purposely). Douglas got to Derby about 6 and Jack and I were in Nottingham about 7.
Jack and I set out from Nottingham on the 6.15 and picked Ken up at Derby. All went well until just before Crewe when we stopped for hours for no reason at all (there was only a little mist). At Crewe we had missed the connection. We spent hours in the refreshment room, although the girl didn't approve of us (it was freezing outside) and caught the first train to Chester where we found seats in the waiting room in front of a lovely fire. We caught the first train to North Wales, but we didn't get to Llandudno Junction till about 7 o'clock, having missed the train which connected with the bus. We got to Bettws-y-Coed about 9 o'clock and started walking along the road (some people at the station who were waiting for a taxi promised to stop when they overtook us, so that we could arrange for him to come back for us, but the taxi didn't overtake us!). Immediately a car came along with only one man in it, so we made the usual sign and it stopped. We knew Mr. Campbell was all right, right from the start; he said how glad he'd be to have us to make a little more weight in the car (it's always a good sign when they pretend that we're doing the favour!). He dropped us on the doorstep and asked if he could come back in an hour's time to take us somewhere. We told him not to bother but he insisted, so we said that a lift to the Milestone would be very useful.
Mrs. Arnold didn't mind that we were late for breakfast, for she hadn't received my card saying that we'd arrive at 7.30! Mr. Campbell was back punctually and told us about the new book which was causing him to make many visits to this part of the country.
At the Milestone we said 'goodbye' and as soon as he had gone, we realised that we had left a rope in the car, but there seemed nothing we could do about it, so we set off with my rope between the three of us. Ken started up what we hoped was the Super Direct. I was in the middle, and Jack brought up the rear. While I was on the first pitch, Mr. Campbell came back and Jack went down to collect our rope, but he came right up to the foot of the climb and watched us for quite a while (we couldn't tempt him).
I didn't find the way too bad for I'm not too proud to cheat! At one point Ken said he didn't think the direct line would 'go' – there were no holds, so Jack said that it was covered with cracks (not mentioning that they were vertical ones!). This was enough to make Ken have a look at it. In good time, he announced that he was coming off and I wondered whether this was where I paid for my pleasant position in the middle of the rope, but Ken managed to arrive, sitting, on the one little patch of grass and didn't come on the rope at all.
At the top we ate our lunch and then set off along the Heather Terrace. It was an interesting walk for there was ice about – icicles and sheets of it on the rocks, in places. The views were grand, the tops were in mist, but there were patches of snow leading up to the mist and you imagined that the hidden tops were snow capped completely. We went along to the foot of North Buttress and thought that there was just time for the first pitch. I was last up this and had an easier time for the others had kicked quite a lot of the ice away.
We came down an easier way, and then the usual way by the farm onto the road. Almost immediately the bus came along and we were back at Llugwy in time for tea.
Wyn and John arrived later, Wyn had been late getting to Liverpool, as they had lost her engine on the way – so she had been told.
We spent hours discussing the ways and means of doing the horseshoe and then getting to the train – without transport. It seemed out of the question, so we got Mr. Arnold to get a car to take us to Ogwen Cottage. After this had all been arranged Mr. Campbell rang up, apparently he could have taken us to Pen-y-pass that morning and picked us up in the evening and run us all the way to Birmingham!
It was too late to change our plans. Besides, it was a very wet day, so we set out up Tryfan up the West Ridge, getting onto the North Ridge towards the top. There was a terrific wind, coming in gusts and it added very much to the interest, especially on the way down to the col. At the col we had a little to eat (we soon got too cold and preferred to go hungry!) and the decided against Bristley Ridge – partly the weather and also the time. I know I wasn't in the mood for the battle against the wind, so I tried not to influence the decision. We ran down to Bochlwyd – we hardly recognised our August promontory, it didn't look at all warm and friendly. At the end of the lake we saw the explanation to the groaning noise we had heard – the lake must have been covered with ice about ½" thick, which had broken up and the wind had blown it all up one end, and was still blowing pieces, tinkling across all the ice.
Back by the road we called in Ogwen Cottage for tea in the kitchen and then Jack and I set off down the road to Bethesda where we caught a bus. We had time for tea in Bangor before catching the 5 o'clock train.
We didn't get to Derby till about 11.30, caught the 1.15 to Nottingham and spent the rest of the night in the station.
Frank and I caught the 7.11 from Preston Park and got over to Euston about 9 o'clock. The platform was packed when we arrived. The train soon drew in, and, by standing well back and then making a dive for a door, we were some of the first in, and were able to get seats. The lights weren't on so we didn't notice till we were settled, three a side, that it was a 1st class carriage. I wasn't moving for anyone! At Tamworth I couldn't look out properly, but I couldn't see any signs of Douglas; however, we met at Penrith, where he made a most welcome cup of tea on his primus.
As we drew into Keswick about 8 o'clock it should have been getting lighter, but it wasn't for (inevitably) we were going towards the rain. We walked down to the Royal Oak for breakfast, in our capes. We asked for grapefruit and then regretted it for they weren't very filling, but they seemed to understand our needs and brought us the porridge as well.
After breakfast, we changed, went outside and found blue sky! We caught the 10.30 bus, what a thrill it was to first see the hills – snow capped!
We soon changed our plans, which had been to potter about in Borrowdale, and decided on Gable. It was grand to go up via Taylor Gill to Sty Head and on to Kern Knotts for lunch. Douglas' chicken sandwiches rather put our sardine ones to shame! Douglas led us up the chimney; unfortunately we were following rather a slow party, and I knew Frank was thinking what a waste of time this all was, when he could be going over a few more tops. I thought it an easy but varied and enjoyable climb. The rocks were cold to the hands, but it was a lovely sunny day with glorious views of the Scafells under snow. From the top of the climb we went on up and eventually joined the ordinary way up. There were some patches of snow, but on the whole Gable was free from it.
Just below the top, a man coming down said how lucky we were for the mist had only just cleared; he had had to wait ages for the view. We had been watching the sun creep round till it was on the river below Wast Water, and the sea beyond. At the top a little mist blew over and we had a trace of the Broken Spectre. The mist on which our shadows were cast was blowing across very quickly and you almost had to imagine the haloes. We came down over Green Gable, and down the ridge over Gillercombe to Seatoller. It was a lovely night, light till about 5 o'clock, but it was later than that before we got into the woods. These were interesting, at one point we had to do a Tarzan trick – hang from the bottom of a tree and drop.
We couldn't get any tea at Seatoller, but caught a bus about 6 o'clock, collected our things from the Royal Oak, Keswick, and got to Derwent Bank about 7. I found I was in a room with four other girls, all very nice and friendly.
We had intended going out for the day on Sunday, but the rumour was that there was chicken mid-day, so we decided on an off-day.
It was a glorious morning, sunny and cold. We followed Frank up Barrow and thoroughly enjoyed the run down the scree. There was just time for cider at the Swinside before getting back to the chicken, which did materialise much to my surprise.
In the afternoon we promised to take Stuart (who I had met at Langdale) climbing. When he heard of the transport difficulties he promised to organise a car for us and got Jim to take us. Jim could only take three, so Frank dropped out so that Stuart could come.
We went to the Bowder Stone and then up the hillside behind to the foot of the Bowder Stone Buttress – 2 pitches of a 'diff'. I came next to Douglas, and then Stuart and lastly Jim. I was surprised Stuart didn't back out at the last minute. He found the climbing reasonably difficult, and thought the rope was there to be used, but he wasn't dizzy, as he had expected. Jim was splendid and put the rest of us to shame; I do hope he continues to climb.
We wasted a lot of time coming down a dirty gully; Doug lowered Stuart down. It was dark before we got down, but down on the road, Jim soon got us back to Derwent Bank. The tea was worth hurrying back for, too.
I had no trouble in getting up in the morning for early breakfast, for this was the day we were going to Pillar – the promised land I had been trying to reach for the last 6¾ years! Jim took Frank and me to Keswick and Doug walked, and we caught the 8.30 bus to Seatoller. The others hared up to Honister Hause, leaving me miles behind – I don't know why I dragged so. We went over "Drum Head and the flats below Brandreth" and down before Haystacks to Ennerdale, and then up the Black Sail. It was grand the view over the other side. Harter Fell puzzled us at first, it is a much more distinctive shape than I had realised. I thoroughly enjoyed the high level route to Pillar and I think of it as a secret climbers track, although really it must be nearly a high road. It was a wonderful approach, to see the rock through the mist. I had always thought of it as being gloomy and forbidding somehow. After lunch Doug took us up the "North Climb". My hands got so cold climbing that they really hurt when I put on my mitts between pitches and they could thaw out.
Doug eventually changed into rubbers for the nose – the footholds weren't as wet as the handholds, which were terribly slimy, despite Doug's efforts at drying them with a hanky. When it came to my turn, I found it very difficult, even the famous holds at the top, I found a snare and a delusion! Frank had no trouble with it at all.
We went up to the top of High Man for 'tea' – Friday's corn beef sandwichs (went down good, too!) followed by mince pies. We then scrambled down 'Slab and Notch' and so down to the high level route, and eventually down to Ennerdale.
There were unforgettable colours that day, as we were climbing, looking towards Helvellyn the sky was turquoise, with a layer of yellow below. Later, on the way home, as we looked through the Black Sail gap, towards the Scafells, the red in the sky, after the sunset was lovely.
It was practically dark in Ennerdale, but we found a path and seemed to get up to the flats below Brandreth in no time. It was a lovely night, the moon was fairly bright at this point; I felt much more cheerful than I had done all day (and I had thoroughly enjoyed it all).
At Seatoller we found that Doug's watch had stopped, but at 6.15 we got the tea we had ordered for 5 o'clock. It went down well and then we sat in front of the fire until the bus was due. We rang up Derwent Bank to say we should be late, but Miss Nairnby didn't seem to mind.
We left it too late to order an early breakfast, then, after our 9 o'clock breakfast we lost the 10.15 bus! We had coffee in Storms and got a taxi up to Coombe Gill.
It was only an off-day we had on Glaramara, but the views were unforgettable. There was lots more snow about on the hills; it was soft underfoot, but it did make the tops look beautifully white. They were often blue too, and when the sun touched the lower slopes they were such a wonderful brown and, I suppose, in contrast to the blue above, the grass looked a yellow green. Derwent Water was quite still, Borrowdale is certainly not my favourite valley, but I had to admit that there was something about this end of the Lakes – it's so spacious somehow.
We continued up to the gully at the end of the valley. This should have been an easy scramble, but we were very glad to rope up for the last two pitches. Frank and I were glad that is, for Douglas didn't get any help! This is what happened, you scraped away the snow, which made your hands quite numb, and then, instead of finding handholds to reward you for your pains, you found that everything was loose!
We had lunch when we unroped and then warmed up by going up one of the humps of Glaramara and then down the Band. Still the views continued, the sky broke behind Glaramara, and the cloud eventually lifted from Gable. When we got down, it just didn't seem possible we had been in the snow a quarter of an hour before. We caught the 3.10 bus from Rosthwaite to Keswick for tea at Birkett's. We had plenty of time for a bath and pack before dinner at 6.30. Our taxi got us to the station in plenty of time for the 7.40.
The people were most friendly, the guard brought us a cup of tea, and came back later to tell us we should be able to catch an earlier train at Penrith.
At Carlisle we made tea on the primus and then (when I was able to find my ticket) walked round the town, coming back for more tea and Christmas cake at 12 o'clock. The loudspeaker wished everyone a happy new year. The 12.32 was on time and we got a carriage to ourselves. I slept well to Sheffield where Doug got out and I thought I'd better keep awake.
I caught the 6.08 to Derby, it was late and I chatted with Geoff Thomson on the station, while waiting for it. Frank Sheehan was also on the 7.40 at Derby. As usual we arrived at Llandudno Junction just before 2.0 and settled down in the waiting train. We couldn't find the rest of the party which, we thought, had caught an earlier train. At Bettws, Stan got out of the train, which was the early one. We sat by the fire in the booking office while waiting for the next train; Doug, Geoff, John Smith, John Dixon, Arthur and Ed got off it. We waited about to see if there was a bus, and eventually Stan rang up the bus station. We only heard one side of the conversation, but we were quite amused, the number of times he explained that we wanted to go to Capel Curig and his "it's daylight now". Apparently, eventually they said that they didn't think they'd be going there in the morning, so we walked, arriving at Llugwy about 9.0. (The road was in better condition than many in the Midlands, where there was no talk of the bus service stopping.)
Wyn, John Goldsworthy, Nell and Tony Clark were having breakfast, also Bob and Anne Lawford, who had had a fortnight there.
After breakfast the taxi set off with half the party, the rest of us waited a very long time for it to return and then it wouldn't take us. He said he'd taken them ²/3 of the way to Pen-y-Gwryd and then they had to push him back half that way, through the drifts. Wyn and I immediately started to walk, and, almost immediately, a car offered us a lift, as far as the Firbanks' Farm. We felt quite alone, walking up to the hotel, for there was no sign of those behind, neither were there any steps in the snow from those ahead. In parts, the road was quite clear, but at other places there were drifts of the very powdery snow. We joined the first contingent for coffee at the Pen-y-Gwryd and waited for the others, but there seemed no signs of them, so we eventually set off, up to the top of the pass and then along the Pen-y-Gwryd track. Quite soon, a little sun shone on the Glyders. "This is better than Switzerland", said Stan.
We had lunch fairly soon, but we realised we must keep moving to keep warm. It was snowing all the way along, and it was really cold. For example I pulled my balaclava over my ears, but it was very bearable for it was so dry the snow just brushed off us. We had great difficulty in keeping to the Pen-y-Gwryd track for it was covered by drifts in places. I found it quite difficult going, sinking right into the drifts in places, and I was carrying nothing but a rope. Stan and John were in the front of the party, although they were carrying full camping equipment! It was just a case of plodding on, until we got to the steep part at the end. This we found free of snow, and covered with ice; I went a little way up this and had great difficulty in getting down again. There wasn't time to get to the top and we couldn't see very far, so we thought we might as well turn back, and be in time for dinner, so we all went down, leaving Stan and John to carry their enormous packs up the ice.
We went down to the Miners Track; I found this quite tricky going, avoiding the ice. Ed, without an axe was down in no time. The wind was really bitter along by Llyn Llydaw which wasn't frozen (Glaslyn was frozen). We thought of Stan and Ken.
We had tea at Pen-y-Gwryd with John, Doug, Frank and Geoff, who had just got down from Crib Goch. Wyn, Nell and I walked back to Llugwy for a wash before dinner about 8 o'clock. We enjoyed the walk back, although we found it a little longer. There were a few stars showing.
It was still snowing in the morning; we set off along the old road, and found it heavy going again, through the snow. Just before the farm, Wyn and John turned back with Arthur, who was having a lift to Chester.
Some of them stopped by the farm for some food; Marjorie, Bob, Nell, Doug and I went on by the frozen Llyn Ogwen to Ogwen Cottage for a cup of tea with our sandwiches. We had a chat with Scotty and Yappy before walking down to Bethesda. We bus'd to Bangor in time to have tea before catching the 5 o'clock train. We were glad to see Stan in this train and hear of his experiences; it had been even worse than we'd imagined. They reckoned that the wind was 120 m.p.h. on the top and John should be able to judge wind speeds.
We got to Derby at 11.10 and I intended to get Peggy to put me up. It was so late when I got there that I thought it a good idea to go on with Douglas, to save waking her up. The supper and hot bath was a great improvement on the Y.W.
I caught the 6.08 to Derby, as usual, and met Ken and Frank in the 7.40. I found that Frank had his rope, so Ken slipped out with mine and left it in the left luggage. We joined Stan's train at Crewe, and went on to Llandudno Junction, where, after a cup of tea, we got in our sleeping bags and slept in the waiting Bettws train. At Bettws we got the bus to Capel, where we woke up Mr. Arnold at Llugwy. He wasn't expecting us, as he hadn't yet received our postcard, so we decided not to stay for breakfast and went on up the road, cooking our own breakfast in a barn below Dyffryn. These meals were rather slow with only one primus between four. We had to move the Austin 7 further out and move a bale of straw to make a sheltered spot. We enjoyed the breakfast porridge, bacon and sausage, and finishing with blackcurrant puree. We made a sandwich or so to take with us, and set off for Pen-y-pass. We went on along the Miners Track and then down to the pipeline, coming out exactly right, although the hut is invisible until you're right on it. I had been dreading this hut, thinking it was by the mine workings, where I've never even been able to find a sheltered spot for eating my lunch. The hut was a really cosy little place, with its glazed window and little stove (it smoked too much for us to keep it going for long, but it was good to look forward to coming back to it).
We set off up a gully to the east of Lliwedd, the snow seemed to me to be perfect (having had no experience!) most of the way you could kick steps, but occasionally you had to cut them (i.e. you could get in a little practice with the axe, without it being too much of a good thing). I practiced cutting steps, but then preferred to use other people's! Frank (in clinkers) slipped, so Stan suggested we practiced stopping a slip. Ken did so, but I thought I'd wait till it didn't matter if I wasn't successful (I regretted it later for I showed my ignorance in a much more dangerous place!). We had lunch just below the ridge, and then continued in the snow over Lliwedd. There were all sorts of conditions, snow, rock, grass and occasionally (to my horror!) ice. We had one little glissade, but I couldn't remain on my feet. On the col between Lliwedd and Snowdon, we dug through the ice to get a drink of water. We continued on up Snowdon to the right of the Watkin. The wind up here was gusting and I'm afraid I mostly crawled up the scree on all fours. On our little bit of rock, we took off our gloves, but I wasn't too keen on rock climbing, for I couldn't tell what were solid holds and what were only frozen on, although the latter seemed solid enough. I was following Ken up Snowdon (he just sort of danced up). On the snow he had walked up where Stan had kicked steps, but, seeing how cautious he was, I had terrific confidence in Stan. Also I was surprised how considerate he was.
We wandered all round the hotel and found it hadn't a sheltered side. We shared a lemon and roped up, all four on one rope, and set off to find the top of the Pen-y-Gwryd track. We passed the place where Stan had camped that night when, compared with the wind then, our gale was a summer breeze. We found where the track should go down, but we couldn't look over, for there was a blizzard blowing over the edge. We discussed going down to Llanberis (the only alternative), but eventually decided to have a look at this track.
We all stood back while Ken glissaded over. He said it was O.K. so we followed one at a time. Frank followed Ken and then it was my turn. I couldn't stop, I had to rely on the rope, and I had great difficulty in standing on the slope at all. I traversed along to Ken and was giving him Stan's rope. I don't know what happened next, all I know is that Ken and I were sliding down. I must have slipped, for I was blaming myself all the way down. I was cursing that I was roped, that I would drag the others down with me, but I lived to thank the rope. At any other time I would have been sure that Stan would stop us, but I knew that just at that moment he was glissading over the top. I should have had more faith in him, for he stopped when he got down to Frank (who was belayed the whole time).
After this we started traversing to the right, moving mostly one at a time, but we were so slow that Stan called it off, and we went up to the top again, which was very sensible, as he said afterwards, he was afraid of frost bite, the rate at which we were moving.
At the top, waiting for Frank and Ken I did shiver a little, but that was the only time, I was beautifully dry and warm otherwise. Our balaclavas were quite windproof with their reinforcement of ice (they thawed before we wanted to take them off, fortunately).
We set off down the railway (quite long stretches were invisible under the snow). I had never been on this side before, and thoroughly enjoyed the walk. We soon got out of the snow, and I got my first view of Cloggy. We thought we might be able to get down Cwm Glas. At least we did find one useful snow slope, I practiced a standing glissade, but I couldn't get going very fast (at least it's much easier to control than a sitting one!). They I saw Frank stop a slip so I tried it, it was much easier than I had expected.
We got down to the ice, so we made a long traverse above it. I found this the most difficult part of the whole day, quite a bit of the way we each had to kick our own steps for the new snow was sliding over the old and filling up the steps as soon as they were kicked. I found moving downwards particularly leg-aching. We got so far and then found we'd have to rope. It was 5.30 by then, and 1 hour of daylight wasn't enough, so we again retreated to the ridge, which we followed to Llanberis this time. The sky in front of us was a stormy red, and it was a lovely effect when this was reflected on the ice on the path. The last few hundred feet were through a wood, just as it was dark. We went to the Royal Victoria Hotel and knocked at the front door. It was a marvellous lady who answered it; we asked if she knew where we could get a cup of tea. She hesitated and said that the fire was nearly out, but then relented and told us to come in. She fetched her father and got him to put wood and coal on what I considered a good fire. She told the others off for having no ingenuity; they were standing on the door mat, as they were wet; she fetched leather chairs for them. We had cup after cup of tea, until the taxi came, to take us to Nant. I must have dropped my purse soon after we started walking, but I didn't miss it till I got to the top. I thoroughly enjoyed the walk, including the last bit,. We found the hut straight away.
We spent hours over supper. We got in about 9 and settled down at 1 o'clock by the new time, we got the stove going and made tea on it, and then cooked over the primus. Our first course consisted of a tin of m. and u., one of Irish Stew, plus beef broth and tinned milk, not to mention whole chunks of corned beef. Later we had stewed dates and cream, cocoa and toast, and purée. It poured all night, it sounded so on the tin roof, and also there were the drips coming through, to listen to. It had been a perfect day for me.
About 9 we got the primus going and had a huge meal, porridge, bacon, sausage, macaroni in tomato sauce, boiled egg, and we finished with toast and purée. It was after 12 before I left and the others were even later. It was hard going to get up to the pony track through the soft snow. I enquired at the Pen-y-pass, but they had no news of my purse, nor did I see it on the road, which was nearly clear of snow. Just as the others caught me up the other side of Nant, a lorry stopped and took us to Llanberis. I gave particulars of my purse to the police. We caught the 3 o'clock bus to Bangor, and then the 5 o'clock train. Frank supplied me with a train ticket to Derby and bus ticket to Chilwall, from where I caught the staff bus to Nottingham.
I tried the door of the Y.W., but of course it was locked, also the windows, so I went along to the police station. I told my tale, I lived at the Y.W., I hadn't a key, I'd lost my purse (they weren't connected. I hoped they sounded as though they were). The sergeant's first reaction was that the Warden must be woken up at all cost, but I eventually persuaded him not to. He mentioned the hostel for stranded women, but he didn't know that I was stranded enough for that (he wouldn't want anyone of his to go there, he said!) so that only left the seat in the billiards room. He got a woman to take me up and lock me in (he introduced me as "a very brave lady"). I was beautifully warm and comfortable and asleep in no time. I was woken at 5.15 when the cleaning women came, but allowed to remain in the lecture room until 7 o'clock.
Jack, Bernard and Freda and I caught the 4.50 to Derby where we picked up Doug and Ken, and so on to Crewe for a dinner of chicken etc. before catching the Perth train. We just saw Stan, and some of the M.A.M. he was travelling with.
First stop Perth! What a hope! We eventually got to Perth after the time we should have been at Aviemore. We joined the tea queue, but there wasn't time for it. How well the tea went down later when we made it in the carriage. Eventually Stan and Ken came along to our carriage, they'd had breakfast. It was after 12 when we got to Aviemore; how tantalising the last part of the journey had been, seeing the snow hills in the sun and thinking of those who had arrived the day before who were probably on the hills.
The weather really seemed settled for the whole weekend! We found Grace on the station and she led us to 'The Dell'. We left the campers, expecting them to call on their way to the Lairig Ghru, but they didn't bother. But I envied them going straight on towards the hills, for us there was nearly half an hour to wait for lunch, and then, when we enquired about the bikes, we found that they were back by the station, so we had a mile to walk in the wrong direction. Then it needed a lot of perseverance to get the last bike from the garage.
Eventually we were off and cycled (or pushed the bikes) to Loch Morlich. I didn't enjoy this part of the day either, for it was hard work (I didn't realise until I came back that it was mostly uphill), but more important I didn't believe we would get to any snow. I should have had more faith. We left the bikes at Glenmore Lodge and walked on a mile or so to the foot of Creag nan Gall. Douglas suggested going up this saying it was only 700 feet to the top (2,040) and we all followed him, although to me the top looked hours away. It was an interesting way, up steep heather and stones, by the side of a gully which we hoped would be steep enough for a glissade on the way down, and then onto the top dome of snow and so to the cairn. Now I was on the snow I could enjoy the view of the snow hills. Towards the west the sun was going down amongst very stormy clouds, but they didn't worry me, this weather had come to stay! The gully down was disappointing, the snow was too soft, even for a sitting glissade, except for a few short ones on top of miniature avalanches. Back at the bikes we met Derrick and John Cotterill, back from Cairn Gorm. What a wonderful ride back we had, just freewheeling down, and with glimpses of the hills in the evening light - only glimpses for you couldn't take your eyes off the road for long.
In an optimistic mood, we had ordered breakfast for 8 o'clock. We had it and set out in fair time for Gleann Einich, hoping the weather would be the same as the day before, and clear up at 11 or 12 in time for us to try Braeriach. It was road as far as Coylumbridge, after that we found the going very difficult with the wind against us and some of the mud on the forest path frozen. We wheeled the bikes over any part which wasn't decidedly downhill, and so to the Gleann Einich track. We pushed the bikes through a few small snowdrifts, and then people gradually went on strike, and bikes were left at intervals up the track, and we all arrived at the lower Bothy on foot. There was no shelter by the cairn (which best described the remains of the bothy) so we had our lunch under the bridge, but the stones supporting that were none too safe and I was glad to get away from it. We went on to the upper bothy, of which only a chimney remains and just saw Loch Einich. What a grim place it seemed, we could only look at it for a moment at a time, through the sleet and there was the snow and cliffs going up into the mist, round the frozen lake.
It was very much easier going once we turned back, I found cycling a little hair-raising, for the wind was a little too much help in places. Near the trees, we saw a solitary figure, on foot, with long gas cape and huge pack. Eddie of course, making a tour of the Cairngorms to find the other campers! He came back with us to 'The Dell' for afternoon tea. It was a glorious run back past Loch an Eilein. Wyn, Geoff and I accompanied Ed who cycled until the Lairig Ghru track left the Loch Einich one, and then we brought the cycle back. I got my only change of trousers a little damp, but it was worth it for a walk.
It was pouring with rain early, so Derrick got up at 7.30 and altered our breakfast from 8.0 to 9 o'clock and came round and told us all that we'd another hour in bed – what a leader! After breakfat we dried a few of our clothes and made rather a late start towards the Lairig Ghru. We cycled out by Loch an Eilein this time. There was very much more water in the streams by now and parts of the forest tracks were under water (the trouble was you tended to stick in the soft mud at the bottom). We left our bikes by the second bridge, where we found Arthur's and Eddie's tents pitched on an ideal site. We went on up towards the Lairig Ghru, having lunch just before we left the trees in a sheltered a spot as we could find. On their way down, we met firstly Eddie, who had left John and Arthur who were hoping to get to Cairngorm. He joined our party. Next, we met Stan and Ken. It was their lack of anything dry which was driving them down. We'd had news of them the night before from three from "The Dell", they'd found walking in the 60 mile an hour gale in the Lairig Ghru quite enough and then they saw our three skiing there and complaining that the snow was too slow and learned that they were camping at the top of the pass. A little way further on we saw Jack, who had managed to find a porter for his skis. We passed (I imagine) Creag a'Chalamain and then struck up towards the northern summit of Creag an Lath-choin. How I enjoyed it all, but I could for I was warm the whole time. I felt rather mean when I saw Wyn and Geoff shivering. It was a lovely snow slope we went up, but not at all difficult for the snow was soft; also it wasn't deep so that it was easy going. I don't know what the others thought of the wind, but I found it a great help, certainly it was difficult to keep to your course, with the wind blowing sideways on, but apart from that it seemed to make you buoyant, my body seemed to have no weight, and it seemed easier to go fast than slow. We went half a mile along the ridge to the next top of the Lurcher and looked down into the pass. Ernest caused some amusement by trying to climb the Cairn in his flapping cape. Nothing more was said about the idea of going further along and descending into the Lairig Ghru and we came down more or less the way we had come up, but the wind had its way and we were more to the right and the snow slope down wasn't as steep as the one up had been. It had been snowing on top (dry and therefore much warmer than sleet), but below that we had seen over to Loch Morlich – so different from the sunny lake we had seen on Friday. On the snow slope, walking would have been a very slow and difficult process; fortunately running was easy, but I had to stop occasionally to breath, for I couldn't seem to do this against the wind. And so down for tea at our lunch place and a cup of tea at the camp. Arthur and John were back; they hadn't got to the top of Cairngorm, but were very thrilled with their 'Alpine Ridge'.
We had breakfast at 8.30 and again dried our things before setting out. The wind had dropped, but there were very heavy rain showers, so we decided against the tops, particularly in my case as I had to catch the 5 o'clock train back.
Wyn, Doug and I set out on our bikes before the others as we had ordered a high tea before 4 o'clock. We went on past Glenmore Lodge. An Lochan Ilaine was lovely; it took us a little while to cross one stream, but we got to Ryvoan bothy for lunch. What a cosy little place this seemed, with the fire still burning which was useful for toasting our sandwiches. We hadn't made very good time in the morning, but all the time my cry had been "It'll be all downhill after Ryvoan". What a hope! The track just got softer, but what lovely woods they were, little pools and deer. Somehow the woods had quite a different character from the Rothiemurchus woods. We pushed the bikes up by Rynettin and so down to Forest Lodge. There was no time to go through Abernethy Forest, so we kept along the southern edge. At Andorach we turned left and spun home by Loch Pityoulish and Coylum Bridge, in time to pack and have a bath before tea. We had plenty of time to cycle to the station for the train. What an effort it was to cycle with full pack! I had to stand on the garden seat to mount the bike. We met Stan and Ken at the station. They were waiting to pounce on our bikes when we returned them (although we were invited to join them on the next day). Doug and I travelled back with John Goldsworthy, Arthur (just as the train was going, Ed decided to stay for another day) and Jack. We changed at Perth, the campers needed a full meal; Doug and I only needed light refreshments, but after that we all started level and all shared in the food in the train. Arthur's 'specials' were quite good; on top of Ryvita, he put peanut butter, chocolate spread, and dates on top of that.
We were rather worried as we kept losing time and the time of our connection at Carlisle came and went. It was our own fault we missed that connection. We didn't want to leave our carriage if the connection had gone, and by the time we found it hadn't we had a job to get out, with the new people getting in. We heard a whistle on the next platform so we started running and got over just as our train was drawing out. Personally, I wouldn't have minded if it hadn't been such an effort running over the bridge.
We knew that the only sensible thing to do was to go back and go via Crewe, but we all refused to cross the bridge again and we got into the next train to Leeds which came into our platform, and consoled ourselves with the tea we made in the carriage.
At Leeds we found that there was no train for hours, and the refreshment room couldn't even supply tea, but we were independent. We started the meal with grapefruit, next came sardines and then the dried egg and cheese was ready. We finished up with marmalade and cocoa. I had a good sleep in the stopping train to Sheffield and then caught the 9.05 to Nottingham, arriving about 10.30. It was a very wet and wild morning, so it wasn't too much of a blow being back. It had been a perfect evening when we had left the Cairngorms, with wonderful views of sun and snow.
I left work about 4.30 and bus'd to Derby where Douglas picked me up. It was a lovely evening for my journey in comfort to Wales. We got to Llangollen in plenty of time, and continued on through Corwen, eventually stopping more because it was late than because it was dark. We camped just off the main road.
We were very disappointed to wake up and find it raining (it had been such a lovely night), but it soon cleared up. I was very impatient to get started, for I was sure that the motor bike would be along at any moment (we had been expecting it all the time the night before). We went on to Llugwy and ordered tea at 6 o'clock for five of us. We also spoke to Bob Lawford who was staying there. We went on to Tinny Shanty; left a note on the windscreen for Ken and Ron and started up via the lake for Craig-yr-Ysfa. We went down to the foot of the gully and had lunch in the sun. It was a glorious day by then, sunny and windy, with a few clouds in the sky, but we left the sun for 3½ hours. It was rather maddening! All went well as far as the 'Door Jamb' where we were thankful to escape to the right. It was the pitch just above this that I found a little difficult. We took the route right to the left, the water running down our arms as soon as we touched the rocks didn't help matters; I can quite see the point of choosing a bad day for the gully for you're bound to get wet! The 'walk up scree' parts were a little more interesting for us, for usually we had to kick steps in the snow. We carried an ice axe up, but didn't need it, so I rather cursed it, as also I did the spare rope which we had carried up expecting Ken and Ron to catch us up, before we started the climb.
Douglas didn't have a real look at the sixth pitch (a pity he knew of the alternative); I think he made a route of his own and did quite a bit of gardening. I had time to wonder about the brocken belay by me and wonder what was beneath the snow I was standing on. Eventually I started the Chimney; I found the walls quite a comfortable distance apart. I got my feet flat on one side and the whole of my back on the other. It was only the way the left wall bulged out that made it hard work at all. I did hesitate a little at the top, but it's a very adequate hold on the right hand side. I was surprised how little back and knee work there had been – very soon there are footholds on the left. It was all straightforward then, until the last pitch – we missed the hard start to the 9th pitch ("technically the hardest part of the climb"). Carrying an axe I suppose we should have dug down through the snow to the beginning of the pitch, but we were in a hurry to get into the sun. And so to the last pitch. We went over the first chockstone. I found the traverse along to the outer one the most difficult part of the climb. Douglas hadn't made much of it, but I found the ledge very polished for boots. And so out into the sunshine to finish our food and continue up Carnedd Llewellyn. There were quite large patches of snow on the north side; on the south side there was one little bank where I practiced standing glissades. We went on and then down the ridge to Tinny Shanty, and so back to Llugwy for tea. There was no news of Ken and Ron, but John Goldworthy soon turned up. The sky started to cloud over, so we thought better of the plan of camping up in Cwm Glas Mawr. We went along to Idwal Cottage, learned that camping in the wood wasn't allowed, so we went up above the hostel and found a splendid spot and pitched the tents. There was quite a wind by now, so I weighted the guys down well with stones, but the wind kept tearing up the walls. I moved enough rocks to make a fair sized rock garden. My tent wasn't going to come down that night. Eventually, I had it up to my satisfaction and started to go off for some water. Almost at once there was a gust which almost blew me over. I turned round, for I had put up my tent to withstand that sort of wind – what a hope, the front two guys had broken. I packed up my tent after that and started heaving rocks on the guys of the other one, but the wind didn't get any less and eventually we took it down and retreated to the wood and had a comfortable night.
It was very wet the next morning. After breakfast we packed everything (except the pots and pans, one tin of milk and one of kipper snack) and put them in the cars.
Douglas said the wind blew him through the window at the top. There was very little enthusiasm in the party after that; we sheltered as far as we could under a rock and ate our lunch, at the beginning of Heather Terrace, and then came straight down to the farm. We passed Milestone Cottage and thought of calling in to see if we could come back with our dry clothes and change there, but didn't bother in the end. We went along the other side of the lake and I collected my rucksack from the car and went back to Ogwen Cottage and asked if I could change in the wash-house.
I felt rather mean leaving the others to go down and collect the tent. All day this problem of changing had worried me, but it worked out all right like this, by the time the others were back I had changed. The cottage was closed for teas, but John had influence and managed to bring a tray of tea into the wash house.
It was quite early when we left; as we knew it would, it cleared as we left the hills. The country round Llangollen looked wonderfully green and fresh. We had a snack there and then, cooked some supper later on. We got back to Derby about 10.30.
Arthur and I caught the 9.06 to Tamworth, picking up Geoff at Derby. At Crewe we found Ed, but no Stan. When the Whitehaven train drew in, we couldn't look for Wyn and Rene, it was so packed; we got in a guard's van, but were turned out, so I tried my usual dodge, and got in a window. This landed me next to a climber, one of the Lancashire Climbing and Caving Club, and we had a very interesting chat, mostly about Langdale.
At Foxfield, we met Wyn and Rene. We had lost the early train, so we drummed up. Eventually, the train came and we got to Coniston about 9 o'clock.
We had breakfast off the road up and then walked on to Goatswater and pitched the tents on the flat ground just to the south of the water. After a meal we walked up to the col, between the Old Man and Dow Crag. The view was lovely, we could just make out the Scafells, in the haze.
In the morning Ron and Joyce arrived and camped with us, Ernest and his brother camped lower, they had too much gear to carry up to the main camp. Joyce came up, of the 'hotel' party, and Derrick and Grace climbed 'Woodhouses'.
We had rather a late breakfast, and got up to the rocks about the same time as the hotel party.
I went up Giant's Crawl behind Frank and Ron Naylor. At the top I met Ken and we scrambled down to Easy Terrace and down South Chimney to the amphitheatre. Ken thought the cracks looked rather easy, but he wasn't inspired to try one of them!
After a meal back at the camp, I went up Lazarus. I was behind Doug and Arthur, but they mostly went up 'C ordinary'. I was glad to do Lazarus as we had cut out the last (and only interesting pitch) that time with the Pinnacle Club. We went on to the top of Dow and then round to the top of the 'Old Man' where most of the camp seemed to have congregated. We played on the slabs on the way down.
Back at the tents, Wyn, Rene and I had the steak and kidney pudding and mixed vegetables, followed by dates, orange and lemon and so to bed.
We got up about 7 o'clock and had breakfast and then I packed everything but my tent and went with Ron and Ken down to the village. I was envious of Wyn and Rene who had another day there. I was sorry to leave them soon on the Monday too, for I had so enjoyed camping with them (not to mention the food they had brought) and yet I hadn't seen so very much of them during the day time, but I couldn't resist a day in Langdale, possibly on Gimmer.
It rained on the way down and we got to 'The Crown' just as the others had finished breakfast. We hung about for some time, but eventually set out for Langdale, arriving about mid-day. I wasn't so pleased when Derrick put his hood down, but it seemed to be warmer in the car than sitting about 'The Crown'.
Ken, Ron and I went straight up to Gimmer and had our lunch there, leaving the others to have theirs by the stream on the way up. It was a glorious day by then, a real "Gimmer" one.
We went round to Ash Tree Slabs; it was all so easy in boots that we didn't bother to change into rubbers. What a thrill it was to do the Slabs again, after a whole year away from Gimmer. At the top I told Ken that 'D' was the natural continuation, but he wasn't impressed! We started up 'C'. I knew that the first 15 ft were steep, and I was rather dreading the pull-up, but after that I thought that the angle eased off. How wrong I was. That climb was just sheer enjoyment; certainly I hoped the others couldn't see me on the pull-up, for I used both knees in turn, but I did it first time and I felt I had some wrists left at the end of it, which was an improvement on last time. I saw that the part after the overhang could have its moments (remembering the description the boy in the train had given of it), but not on this day. How perfectly those holds seem to be made for nails and fingers to fit into.
Ken offered to take me up Chimney Buttress, one which I've been hoping to do for years, but somehow it wouldn't have been a real 'Gimmer day' if we didn't come down a climb, so I suggested Oliversons. We got down to the 'Crow's Nest', but then found that Derrick and Grace were coming up the climb, so we went down 'B' instead. I went down the 'neat bit' instead of 'Amen Corner', but the others found the latter so easy that I wished that I had tried it, on the rope, especially as there were John Cotteril and Stan Mason to advise from below. We finished our lunch at the end of the terrace and then ran down for cider from the wood at the D.G.
Stan left me at Chapel Stile, where a bus came along soon after 7.30 and took me to Ambleside (8.10); fortunately there was a taxi waiting which got me to Windermere in plenty of time to catch the 8.30. It was the usual run, change at Crewe, and get in the Tamworth train through the window! and so back to Nottingham about 7.30.
Douglas picked me up in Derby and we set off for Wales. I was thinking of the Alps most of the time, picking out the climbable peaks from the cloud hills. There were wonderful effects. Douglas had been travelling all the night before and was rather sleepy, so we camped before we got to the hills (also because it looked as though it was raining in Snowdonia). It looked quite a good campsite, but we soon found the snag – the midges. However, we shut the tent door, got the primus going and had supper in peace. I then slept from, say 12.30 to 4.30, and then the midges woke me up. It was too hot to hide inside my sleeping bag, so I got up and suggested to Douglas that we went on for breakfast, but he wasn't properly awake and so I went for a walk. I got back at about 7 o'clock when Douglas had the primus going. After breakfast we drove on, leaving a message with Mrs. Arnold that we were camping at Gwern-y-Goff Isaf. We found Derrick and Ernest in the ideal campsite. After driving through two or three fields, we stopped in a little field with a stream running by, and there was quite a carpet of bluebells and pignuts. A wall sheltered us from the west, and, at the farm, they positively welcomed us, and supplied our needs for milk and eggs.
After waking Derrick and Ernest, and waiting for them to breakfast, we set off for Heather Terrace. Derrick's programme demanded a fine day, but he didn't seem perturbed by the slight shower, and set off up Grooved Arête. I found the hobnails in my old boots as good as clinkers. Half way up we changed into rubbers for the more difficult part. Derrick tried the Super Direct, but retreated because it was wet. He then led without hesitation up the direct. This starts with a traverse out onto the arête on the most minute flakes of rock, and then the route goes up. The whole thing is quite unscratched, certainly a tricouni would have fitted onto the flakes better than a rubber, but the flakes didn't look sound enough to bear it. It was simply grand to follow up, but the exposure must have been pretty terrific for Derrick. From the top of the climb we scrambled down North Buttress to the foot of the Terrace Wall, where Derrick had a look at the Bastion. Apparently he had retreated from it on a previous occasion, but this time he had no difficulty. Ernest followed, and then it was my turn. Derrick was at the top of the difficult pitch, it all seemed of the same standard, not just one move, as the book had said. Derrick's "Do a semi-mantelshelf with your back against the wall" got me up. I found it a thrilling place, quite unscratched and hence looking holdless, yet when I got to it, I found lots of rugosities which were quite adequate for my "glove fitting rubbers" which I was wearing for the first time (at least they seemed adequate with a rope above me). Next there was a traverse onto a little ledge which just held my two feet and was on the edge of all things. There was time to admire the exposure too, for the climbing was no longer taking all my attention; and so up, and at last I reached the Terrace by the 'proper way', as I had read so often in the book. We again went down to the foot of Terrace Wall and put on our boots and went back to the camp for supper. After supper Derrick had changed his mind about running us all along to the hostel. He wanted to walk instead, so Douglas ran me along and we got there at ten to ten. We found Frank in the call box where he was just going to ring up Llugwy. He said he was sleeping on the floor at the hostel. Douglas and I went along to the boulder problem which I've always refused to look at before (because I've known I couldn't do it, I expect!). Even after Belle Vue Bastion, I couldn't do it, and I couldn't blame the lack of clinkers, because I'd been saying all day that clinkers didn't matter! Then Frank came along to say that he couldn't sleep in the hostel after all, and came back with us.
It was a glorious evening, too good to last I was sure, for, all the time, I had in mind that wonderful Sunday I had with Derrick in Cwm Idwal last year.
Derrick had planned to go to Glyder Fach, but Frank thought that the Slabs were the proper approach to Welsh climbing, and Derrick was so pleased to have someone who knew his own mind that he immediately changed his plans.
Frank started by leading Derrick and Ernest up Tennis Shoe. I was on the end of the second party up, after Douglas and John, who said they'd be quite content to sleep until it was their turn to start, so I ran up the 500 ft of the east route up the slabs, and down again. Of course when I started back I found that they had changed their mind and were on 'Hope'. I didn't join on for I didn't want to delay them for I had never done 'Tennis Shoe'. When at last we started I found it very pleasant in rubbers. All the way up I was watching the other party; I saw them finish their lunch and then move over towards the east wall. We came down that way and found the others starting on Heather Wall. Douglas asked Derrick if he could take another one. Derrick said yes and I joined on while the others went down for lunch. A year before Derrick had led me up Ash Tree Wall and I had thought it lovely. Heather Wall I thought really thrilling, which isn't I suppose a compliment to my climbing. I was the fourth on the rope. Derrick was followed by Ernest and Frank was third. The first pitch was practically 100 ft with the most difficult move at the top. Derrick put a running belay on, half way up. At the top there is just one little spike of rock for a belay, and, it seems to me, that it is only this which makes the climb possible. Next was the traverse which was wet. We did it in stockinged feet; I'm sure this would have been delightful in rubbers(?), but I'm not so keen on trying to support my weight on my big toes, unsupported, for they're small pocket-type holds. The next stance was an unofficial one, and rather small, and after that came the Bulge. The wall here seems more than vertical, when you try to climb it, but the holds are adequate, if sharp for stockinged feet (or was it that the rope was above me instead of to the side?). There was one last little move over the edge. I used a knee on it and was so ashamed, thinking I must be getting tired, but when I read it up afterwards, I found that it was 'the hardest move on the climb'. How I admired Derrick's lead, for, as the book would say, the leads were "not short".
Next, Frank led Ernest and Douglas up Hollytree and Derrick took me up Lazarus (I'd never done it before) and I thoroughly enjoyed it; of course after Heather Wall we just ran up it. There was no sign of the others, so we continued up the arête on 'Continuation Wall' and then, with John we slowly made our way down to Ogwen Cottage.
Back at the camp we had a cup of tea, and cooked a meal just before Llangollen.
As we left the Nant Ffrancon, it was cloudy towards England, but clear looking back towards the hills. How unapproachable they looked, this evening, when, after eight years of climbing, I had been led up my first 'vs'.