CHAPTER VII

_GREAT GABLE. THE ENNERDALE FACE AND THE OBLIQUE CHIMNEY._

Great Gable takes high rank among the hills of Britain for grace of form and for the beauty of the views it offers to the climber. It is a square pyramid in shape, and shows nearly its full height (2,949 feet) from the Wastdale level. It stands at the head of the valley, and when seen from the shores of the lake appears completely to shut off the valley from all approach by the north end. Its four main ridges offer fairly easy walking to the summit. The north-east ridge runs down towards Green Gable, Brandreth, Grey Knotts, and the Honister pass, a little _col_ marking the lowest point (2,400 feet) between the peak and Green Gable. A moderate path leads the pedestrian from Borrowdale up by way of Aaron Slack towards this little pass, which is known as Wind Gap, and then bears up towards Great Gable. The pass may be crossed into Ennerdale and a rough descent taken to the Liza stream.

The north-west ridge leads down towards Kirkfell. The broad depression between the two mountains is known as Beckhead (2,000 feet). It is often marshy in the neighbourhood of the diminutive Beckhead Tarn. A wire fence that adorns the summit-ridge from Kirkfell can be followed for some distance up Gable. Thence to the summit is somewhat craggy, but not difficult for pedestrians.

The south-west ridge is called the Gavel Neese (Gable Nose), showing from Wastdale Head as a rounded grassy shoulder leading directly towards the peak. Up this shoulder we may make the shortest ascent of Gable from Wastdale, avoiding the easy crags of White Napes that face us where the upper limit of the grass is passed, by skirting round the screes on the left. An ancient path with the strange name of Moses’ Sledgate leads up Gavel Neese till the level of Beckhead is nearly reached, and then bears away on a traverse over the screes round to the middle of the Ennerdale side of the mountain, there to lose itself in the wilderness of stones that are bestrewn all over that desolate region.

The remaining ridge to the south-east is scarcely definite enough to be worthy the name, though from Wastdale it seems to be at least as well marked as Gavel Neese. It leads towards the Styhead pass (1,579 feet) and offers a quick route to the top. Mr. Haskett Smith suggests ‘half an hour’s rough walking,’ but that pace is too severe for most walkers.

Of the four faces of the pyramid the north and south are precipitous, the west offers very little scope for the cragsman’s skill, and the east absolutely none. The north or Ennerdale face is practically a single, exposed section of some 400 feet of rock, seamed with traverses and split with numerous gullies and chimneys. The south face is of a complicated design. Springing up from the 2,000-feet level, the Great Napes appears in the centre of the south face as a great rock screen belonging to the main mass of Gable. In reality it is well separated off by deep hollows cutting behind it to right and left. The highest point of the Napes is connected with the upper crags of Gable by the crest separating these two hollows, either of which may be followed down in safety by benighted wanderers who are past all wish to avoid screes, and whose one desire is to reach a low level in some inhabited valley.

Let us more happily suppose for the present that we are upward bound and desirous of circumventing Great Napes. We can observe from Wastdale Head the line of lighter scree that comes down either side of the Napes. That to the left leads through a beautiful natural gateway between White Napes and Great Napes, and thence trends to the right up to the summit ridge connecting the latter to the final crags of Gable. The streak of reddish scree to the east leads up through larger portals into the very heart of the mountain, penetrating round to the back of the Napes, and thence up by the left to the same summit ridge. This hollow is floored with small red scree that glows with a marvellous richness of colour in the sunlight.

The passage between the foot of the Napes and a rock pinnacle at the entrance to the hollow is called Hell Gate. Philologists may be led to connect the name with the colour of the scree, for the primitive mind of the namer would have naturally associated redness with an infernal intensity of heat. The White Napes offers a little scrambling, but the Great Napes precipice gives us the best climbing to be had on the Gable; and if, after reaching the crest of this wall, we bear slightly downwards across the upper part of Hell Gate screes, we can finish our climbing by some excellent rocks that lead to the large Westmorland cairn close to the highest point of the mountain. These Westmorland crags, as we presently find it convenient to name them, are irregularly continued away towards the south-east and the Styhead pass, by Tom Blue, Raven Crag, and Kern Knotts. The last named are in two tiers, the lower being close to the Styhead path, and only some 1,200 feet above Wastdale Head. The upper Kern Knotts offer climbing of great interest and perhaps exceptional severity, and are rapidly becoming popular among the climbing fraternity.

THE ENNERDALE FACE.--Looking first to the north side of Gable it is a matter of regret that no satisfactory inclusive view may be obtained of the whole width of this mountain wall. Seen from the slopes of Kirkfell the face recedes in such a way that very little of its climbing can be prospected. From the ridge between Scarth Gap and Brandreth we have a front view of the crags, but they are much dwarfed by distance, and their northern aspect is unsuitable for long range photography.

From Kirkfell we can readily mark the Oblique Chimney which cuts deeply into the upper half of the centre of the face, and terminates at a right-angled notch in the sky-line. Some distance to the right we may with a good light identify the Great Central Gully that cuts the face from top to bottom. To the immediate right of this is an easy scree leading the whole way to the top of the crags. Near the foot of this on the right there used to be a slab pinnacle some fifteen feet in height that has since been completely disintegrated by rain and frost. A year or two ago the freshly exposed rock that bore witness of the recent departure of the pinnacle could be clearly recognised by contrast with the older face. This climb is now reported to have been exceedingly difficult; such will probably be the future reputation of the fast disappearing Stirrup Crag on Yewbarrow. A little higher up this scree slope, on a small platform out to the left, the remains of an old stone-walled enclosure could once be distinguished. It may have been the haunt of whisky smugglers or the hiding place of some miserable outlaw. It is to be regretted that the remains are now in too bad a state of repair to be recognised as artificial. Between the Oblique Chimney and the Central Gully lies the easy route or natural passage by which a mountain sheep of ordinary powers ‘might ascend’; though it not infrequently occurs that the perplexed climber roundly declares that the mountain sheep of average mental capacity is not so foolish as to venture into such a bewildering region of small grass traverses, steep stony slopes, and ledgeless walls.

Immediately to the left of the Oblique Chimney is the climb that leads past the Bottle-shaped Pinnacle and up the huge retaining buttress of the chimney. Further towards Wind Gap the sky-line suddenly drops at the upper level of Stony Gully--an easy, though rough, passage up broken boulders and loose scree, by which the crags can be outflanked. The wire fence that leads over Wind Gap to Green Gable and Brandreth begins here, and is a useful landmark in misty weather. Mr. Haskett Smith found in 1882 a ‘high level route’ across the face at about two-thirds of the way up. It is an excellent ramble, and full of strange surprises, passing along exposed ledges, in between towers of rock and the great upper wall, offering a peep into the black recess of the Oblique Chimney, and an easy digression up to the Bottle-shaped Pinnacle. It finishes close to the foot of Stony Gully, and can be recommended for a preliminary survey of the more difficult routes up the Ennerdale face.

OBLIQUE CHIMNEY.--From a few notes added to a sketch of the known routes up the Ennerdale face, which Mr. John Robinson inserted in the Wastdale Climbing Book, April, 1890, I derived my first impressions of the Oblique Chimney: ‘This has, I believe, not yet been climbed and is not very safe, owing to the jammed stones in it being loose, and the clean-cut walls on each side making these stones of consequence.’ This description was realistic though brief, but I thought little of the place till the Christmas vacation of 1892-3, when I learnt that Mr. R. C. Gilson had proposed to attack the chimney one fine day, but was forestalled by Dr. Collier’s party. These latter took the precautionary measure of partly descending the chimney, so as to clear away the _débris_ and loose stones that hovered over the edge of each pitch; they then returned to the foot of the chimney and forced a way directly up to the top. The important jammed stones required for the middle portion were quite firm enough for safe holding, and the party returned with a fuller praise of the beauties of the chimney than any one had anticipated. I was given an account of the expedition a day or two later, and was glad enough to get the opportunity of trying conclusions with the crags on that side of Gable, which till then was unexplored country for me.

My companion that Christmas was a learned classic, weary of brain work, whom I had induced to take a little climbing in Cumberland as a tonic. Some people cannot take quinine, others apparently cannot benefit by rock-climbing. This latter I found to be the case with my friend, whose struggle with the _confracti rudera mundi_ made him despondent instead of inducing a healthy exhilaration. The sore limbs and torn clothing he never seemed able to forget, far less to enjoy. Yet the ruling passion of phrase-making was strong even _in extremis_, and he longed to put his sufferings into words. Sometimes on the rocks I might casually turn to see that he was coming up well. His eyes would be gazing at nothing and his lips moving as if in prayer. But it was not prayer, it was a Greek or Latin quotation, preferably the former because of its rich vocabulary for description of scenery. On the whole he was enjoying the new experiences hugely in his own melancholy way, and I felt no compunction in insisting on his joining K. and A. when we planned our excursion up Gable by way of the Oblique Chimney. The day was rather cloudy and snow threatened, but we took plenty of provisions, and K. carried a pocket compass. We started somewhat late in the morning, and walked leisurely up Gavel Neese and round the Beckhead by way of Moses’ Sledgate. But on reaching the wire fence we found that the mist completely enveloped the Gable crags and gave us no chance of identifying our climb from below. Then we skirted along the base in the vain hope of a momentary disclosure of the chimney by a parting of the mist, but no such chance offered, and we reached Stony Gully without making a start up. Here we saw the ‘rake’ or traverse that has been described as passing along the face about two-thirds of the way up. It was an obvious course to take, inasmuch as it led to within a few feet of the foot of the Oblique Chimney--so near that even the dense mist could scarcely prevent our striking it. Here the classic assured us that he would much prefer ascending by Stony Gully to the top of Gable, and that it would give him extreme pleasure to carry our lunch up to the cairn and wait for us there. We let him go, and promised that we should join him again by three o’clock in the afternoon. Thus did we lose our lunch, not to find it again for another week. There was much ice and fresh snow plastering the rocks, and the so-called ‘easy’ traverse wanted all our care. K. was an expert Alpine climber, his friend A. a plucky young Harrovian with plenty of nerve and endurance in him, but at that time with next to nothing in the way of experience of the mountains. He came along well enough, but our pace was necessarily very slow. Three o’clock found us still working westwards on the traverse, but without a sight of the Oblique Chimney. I think in one place we must have descended too much. At any rate, we found ourselves in difficulties on a sloping slab of glazed rock that gave me serious pause. A. slipped on this, and started slithering away rapidly. Luckily he held his axe tightly, and was brought up by the rope with a jerk. Shortly after this, he pointed to some blood on the rocks, and solicitously asked me whether I had cut myself very badly. It turned out, after a hasty glance at my hands, that he himself was the wounded one. My little complaint was a slight frostbite in the finger-tips, my gloves having been worn threadbare by much scraping with the hands.

At last we reached a pinnacle that promised us variety. We tried to climb up it by the outside edge, but found the ice too troublesome. Then, when resting on the shoulder half way up, we saw a deep and narrow cavern in the mountain wall behind the pinnacle. Surely that must be the object of our quest and our pinnacle the redoubtable ‘bottle-shaped.’ Eagerly we scrambled over the shoulder and down a slight gully on to the scree that issues from the mouth of the cavern. It was getting dark, and we were very hungry. My jacket pocket still held the crumbs of a pulverized biscuit that I had taken up Snowdon the week before. These and a fragment of chocolate we scrupulously shared, and then began the attack in earnest. The conditions had much changed since Dr. Collier had effected his ascent, and though the gully overhangs too much to permit any drift snow to settle in it, the smooth walls of the gully were black and shiny with ice, and the damp cold of this dark hole tried our endurance to the utmost. It must be admitted that my ascent of the first part was slow and ungraceful. I had started with my back resting against the left wall, bracing my feet as firmly as the ice would permit against the diminutive knobs on the opposite side. Now in this position the back cannot be worked up an overhanging wall unless the hands have something definite to thrust against. The process went on fairly well for about twenty-five feet, working outwards as well as upwards, but then the two sides of the chimney became perilously far apart and the smooth left wall commenced to overhang.

Then ensued a few moments of awkward suspense, an uncertainty as to the best method of transferring one’s weight to certain small ledges against which the feet were now pressing.

The process of ‘backing up’ is excessively fatiguing, the thrust necessary to hold oneself firmly _in situ_ being as a rule much greater than the equivalent of one’s weight, and the whole of this thrust being at every slight lift transmitted through the arms. He who fails to realize the attitude I am describing may easily perform an experiment that illustrates the mechanical principles involved, by sitting down across a doorway or narrow passage, and attempting to work upwards by pressure of the feet against one side and back against the other. If, when some three feet from the ground, he waits a minute or two and then attempts to move again, either up or down, he will perceive that the simple holding in place has tired his muscles and made advance or retreat equally difficult.

Our doorway had already extended up for twenty-five feet and yet another five remained before a comfortable halting-place could be reached. The cleft forming the chimney was so much undercut that the view vertically downwards included the scree some distance below the entrance to the cavern, and anything that I might have let fall, myself for instance, would have dropped some feet further out than the two men waiting below. The halt was a mistake; there was only one course open, and that should have been taken at first. It was to work inwards until the doubtful jammed stones could be reached with the left hand, and then, trusting mainly to the footholds, hoist the body over to that side of the gully and thrust the hand into the recesses between the stones. K. shouted up some suggestion to this effect from below. How he managed to discern the proper place through the dim twilight I never was able to ascertain. But I resolved to try it, and in some strange way the cramped muscles that had appeared incapable of further effort were in a second or two relieved by the change of attitude, and the pull over to the right side that I had dreaded as the severest tax on my strength proved to be easy enough. With fists in two convenient little holes clenched to prevent the hands slipping out, I was able to take a momentary survey of the slightly rickety ladder of jammed stones that led to safety. The passage of these few feet was not at all pleasant. Had ours been the first climb of the chimney we might have reasonably decided to brave the perils of descent and return again by daylight, rather than fumble about in the dusk pawing at wabbly boulders that threatened to fall out with us at even a caress, much more promptly at a cross word.

But the knowledge that others had tried them, and had learnt the futility of these threats, gave me some degree of courage, and, taking heart of grace, I, walked up the ladder and out of the first great difficulty. A. came up next, and as the hour was late and we were all a little anxious to finish, he did not scorn to use the rope at the bad corner just below the ladder. K. came up remarkably well, and I felt that if he had led us we should have mastered the pitch earlier.

We were now able to walk towards the roof of the upper portion of the gully, which was as completely closed in as the cave below. The left wall everywhere overhung so much that there was no chance of climbing out by its aid. The right wall was nearly parallel to the left and showed a few more possibilities.

Looking backwards we could see the two walls projecting several yards out, apparently a little nearer together at their extreme edges than they were in our upper chamber, which was now much too wide for any opportunity of backing up. But we knew that the second pitch was not so bad as the first, and started prospecting. I crept up as high into the cave as possible, and then felt round the edge of the roof for a firm hold. This came to hand almost at once, and with a step out on to the sloping wall, and probably a steadying hand from below, I worked up between the roof-stone and the right side. This led to a steep little snow-slope, evidently covering loose stones that might prove excitable in dry weather, and thence a few yards of broken rock extended to the summit of the crags.

In five minutes we had assembled there, and decided that we were still distressingly hungry. I felt in my pocket for more crumbs, but only brought out stones. We hurried up to the cairn at the highest point of the mountain. It looked a picture of Alpine solitude. Not a trace of the classic, no hope of our lunch. Fresh snow had fallen during the last hour or two, and had obliterated all signs of his visit. Nay, worse, we had not that implicit confidence in his knowledge of the district to feel certain that he had found his way safely down to Wastdale, for he had never been on the mountain before; nor was he quite so familiar with the mountain mists as we proud climbers of the Oblique Chimney. But he had the laugh of us that night! We expressed sorrow for the poor man, and then with a sigh turned to consider our own position. It was a trifle unpleasant to be on the summit of Great Gable after six p.m. on a snowy winter’s night, with something of a wind blowing through us and very little to obstruct its free passage. But for all that we were happy enough, and arranged elaborately to steer by compass direct for White Napes and Gavel Neese. South-west by west was our direction. K. was positive of that fact, and offered to lead. Some twenty yards behind him came young A., still going well; then I followed at an equal distance behind him, just able by the reflected light from the snow to distinguish the leader and keep him in the straight line he was marking out for us.

By the light of a match that we kept flaming for a sufficient time in an improvised tent of coats, he examined the pocket compass he carried, and was confident that ten minutes’ good going would carry us down to the grassy shoulder below the White Napes. On we went steadily downwards, and I wondered whether, if we took to running when the boulders were passed, we might get down in time to start dinner at the usual hour. Happy thoughts in this connection kept me from attending particularly to our route and its details, but when we got to a thicker mist I looked about for a landmark. Nothing could be recognised. The ground sloped rapidly down on the right; the left seemed to rise most oddly to a sort of ridge. But the strange thing was that there seemed to be another mountain fronting us. K. was at a complete loss, and took out his compass again. We erected the tent once more, and all crowded over the instrument to determine our fate. Alas, we had been travelling towards the north! K. had mistaken the two poles of the magnet. The mountain mass looming ahead was the Green Gable, and we were within a few feet of the Wind Gap. Our dinner was at least two hours further away than ever, and we were still hungry. There was nothing to be done but walk round the mountain by way of the Styhead tarn and pass. We had no lantern, and it would have been a legbreaking business to attempt to skirt the Ennerdale face and strike off the Moses’ Sledgate in the dark. The snow was soft all the way down Aaron Slack. I have often come down in daylight since and wondered what we could have found to tumble over that night; we were always slipping through snow pitfalls into water, or tripping over boulders and on to our heads in snowdrifts. Now and again we would find ourselves sitting side by side in the stream, the leader’s tumbling having been too sudden to permit of any warning to the others. Such occasions we generally seized on as suitable opportunities for halting, only to be ended by sleepy realization that the water was both damp and cold. And all the time the inexperienced classic was enjoying his dinner and his phrase-making in princely luxury and comfort at the inn.

At last we reached the shores of the frozen tarn and turned wearily up to the right. The path was in a shocking state, and on arriving at the cairn at the top of the pass we found a continuous glaze of ice along our route. So, at any rate, it seemed to be that night--my first experience of crossing the Styhead in the dark. It was nothing less than actual hand-and-foot work in many an awkward corner. Subsequent opportunities of climbing down the path in the dark have often been given me, but that first night was the worst. How we managed to avoid broken limbs has ever been a mystery. We would suddenly slip over on the ice, and slide furiously down the path and into some obstruction below. We had tried to smoke, but pipes were too dangerous to hold between the teeth during these unpremeditated rushes. But time ends all things. By ten o’clock we were anointed with Vaseline and massaged with Elliman, with the prospect of substantial fare to follow. The classic slippered into the dining-room to report himself. He had waited on Gable cairn till half-past three, and then had returned by the way he had come. Our lunch he had left under a stone, and as a guide to our finding it had stamped the snow down and drawn with his finger several arrows or asterisks or other marks of reference in the snow. It was very clever, but the fresh fall thwarted his ingenuity only too effectually.

The Oblique Chimney rapidly became popular, and has since been visited by many climbers. But it can never be regarded as an easy ascent.

Some time during the summer following I looked down it to see how a descent might be managed. The loose stones at the top were most uncomfortably unstable, and the clamber down towards the entrance of the upper cave required great care, without being exactly perilous. A friend was with me who counselled waiting till we should find ourselves up there again with a rope, and ultimately his advice prevailed. Some eighteen months later, in January, 1895, a large party of Wastdale Christmas revellers made for the Oblique Chimney top. The crags were approached from the scree below, a few feet to the north of the entrance to the Central Gully. We took to a little chimney at once, and then up a grassy slope to another chimney that brought us to steep grass and scree with frequent outcrops of rock.

Thence we made up towards the entrance to the Oblique Chimney then visible, and before reaching it clambered up an incipient gully on the left wall that bounds the scree just there. It led over the sharp crest of the buttress that supports the bottle-shaped pinnacle, and thence we had a steep but fairly easy descent of ten or twelve feet to a ledge that led round to the other side. The rocks were dry and very free from snow, so that each member of our party found himself able to pull up easily from ledge to ledge in the little gully till the notch between the pinnacle and the main wall was reached.

Thence the leader turned up to the left, and recommenced a similar series of ledge-climbing operations, of which only the first from the notch could be called in any sense difficult. We had a magnificent view down the face, which is particularly steep just here, and the frequent halts rendered necessary by the size of our party afforded plenty of time to admire the huge slabs that separated the ‘sheep walk’ from us. A small stone-man marked our point of arrival at the summit of the crags, and after adding a block or two as our contribution to the cairn we turned right, and in a few yards had reached the rectangular entrance to the Oblique Chimney.

The main difficulty in the descent was to prevent stones sliding on to the heads of men lower down, who were in the direct line of fire and rarely able to raise a protecting arm for themselves. The upper ones were continually cautioned by those in peril to keep an eye to the rope, and prevent its dragging over the bed of the gully. All passed down safely, but I remember making a mistake when descending the great overhanging pitch at the bottom, in assuming that it was an easy matter to climb down with a camera sack on my back. I had descended part of the ‘ladder,’ but then found the need of a back pressure, and hesitated about crushing in the contents of my sack. The rope is of no use to the last man in a place of that kind, and I therefore was permitted to untie the knot round my waist and fix on the sack instead, letting it down gently to the others by the left hand. The right was needed to hold on firmly to the ladder, so that the teeth were in requisition for the tying. The descent offers another instance of the ease with which a chimney that is exceptionally severe in the ascent may be traversed in the reverse direction. Where gravity helps the motion we have only to consider the best means of opposing it. During an ascent much strength is spent in the mere lift, to say nothing of the extra force needed to prevent slipping.

At the foot we joined up again and traversed round to the ‘sheep walk.’ This was easy to discover but hard to describe. The route bore obliquely upwards towards the right, always well out in the open, giving us pleasant hand-and-foot work the whole way. We reached the top in safety, and then proceeded homewards by way of White Napes.

Mr. Haskett Smith says that the top of the easy passage bears 23° east of north when viewed by prismatic compass from the highest point of Great Gable. It probably means magnetic north, and the fact is of value to benighted climbers who know which end of the compass is the north pole.

On April 3, 1896, a new variation route was found into the upper cave of the Oblique Chimney by Messrs. C. and A. Hopkinson and H. Campbell, who worked up a slightly marked gully in the great wall to the left of the sheep walk, and then, after an ascent of fifty feet, traversed round by the left into the chimney.