Rock-climbing in the English Lake District: Third EditionJones, Owen Glynne
General
Rock-climbing in the English Lake District: Third Edition
Jones, Owen Glynne
Lake District (England) -- Description and travel; Mountaineering; Rock climbing -- England -- Lake District
us to Great End so long as it pleased them to amuse themselves down
there on the leeside of the mountain. We quickly demolished our own
share of the provisions, and with an unselfishness rarely present in
the great latterday mountaineering expeditions, decided to leave them a
few sandwiches and to cloy the hungry edge of our remaining appetites
with tobacco. We were not all smokers, but everybody present assisted
in lighting the first pipe, such a labour was it to keep a match
burning. We waited there in a close bundle until our feet were half
frozen and our faces stiff with icicles. Then we became rather nervous
about our missing friends, and debated whether they meant to reach the
top that day, or whether they had turned their backs to the lunch and
made for Sprinkling Tarn. The latter course seemed at once the most
expedient for them and the most convenient for us, and gladly we acted
on this assumption. It was just as well we did so, for the frost had
sharply nipped some of us, and it was long before my heels gave me any
sensation but that of a pair of snowballs in my boots. We slung round
the Esk Hause, and had some fine glissading to the hollow of the hill
below the crags.
When well opposite our climb at the point whence we had started some
five hours earlier, our united shouting brought back an answering call
from the gully. Soon we could see the burly form of their greatest
member slowly descending the crags at about the same spot where we
had long before left him. Having distinguished him as a preliminary
landmark easy of recognition, the three others were one by one made
out. We were relieved to observe that they were all coming down in a
normal condition; no broken limb or sprained ankle had occurred to
spoil their pleasure and stop their climbing. After a few minutes’
waiting we learnt their story. The left-hand route had begun in
a vertical ice-sheet twenty feet high that took them two hours to
surmount. Then, when with sighs of relief, or hyperbolic language, or
eloquent silence, that marked each individual’s satisfaction at the
happy completion of a difficult pitch, they had cut their way over the
edge of this wall and rounded the traverse that dominated it, they were
aghast to meet a wall of ice in every respect similar to the first,
but magnified! This was heart-breaking, but they made a bold bid for
success, and started afresh on the new task. But the daylight was
already within an hour of vanishing, and a night on those rocks would
have been too much for even the sturdiest of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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