CHAPTER X

_THE RIDGES OF THE GREAT NAPES_

THE NEEDLE RIDGE is usually taken from the foot of the Needle itself. It was explored first in 1884 by Mr. Haskett Smith, who then made a general survey without actually completing the climb. Two years later he effected a descent of the whole route; and in 1887 Mr. Slingsby’s party made the first strict ascent, and were emphatic in their praise of its fine character.

The introductory few feet from the notch behind the Needle are difficult, the problem being to climb up a steep slab of six feet or so to the foot of a slight grass chimney that slopes upwards to the right. Three fingers of the right hand can be inserted in a curious pocket in the slab; rather poor foothold is all that can be found for steadying purposes, and for the rest just enough will manifest itself to enable the climber to cautiously drag himself up to a small ledge, and thence to the foot of the chimney.

This takes him easily to about the level of the top of the Needle. There a poised block is passed on the left, that used to give trouble. I once saw my leader attempt to climb directly over it. When in the very act of pulling himself on to its upper surface it slowly swung round, as if pivoted at each extremity. Fortunately he was not tempted to let go, and it readjusted itself in a firmer position without quitting its niche. My friend led no more that day, and we afterwards solemnly warned folks against the boulder variation. The stone is yet there and is still insecure, but climbers pass round by the right and then work back on to the edge of the _arête_ and up to the foot of the vertical wall that begins the second part of the climb. It is not unusual for the first part to take so long a time in severe weather as to convince a prudent party that it is expedient to utilize a grass traverse into the Needle Gully that here discloses itself on the left. This ledge takes them safely to a point in the bed of the gully above the chief pitch, and within a few minutes’ easy scrambling of the top.

The first part of the Needle Ridge may be neatly varied by climbing the buttress up from the gully, or by working across to the same buttress from the Needle notch. These variations are a little harder than the usual climb, but both are safe in dry weather.

As illustrating the way not to use a rope, an amusing story is told of the first difficulty on the Needle ridge. Two young fellows had walked up to the foot of the gully with another party of climbers, and had lazily discussed their lunch and their plans for the day while the others were busy on the Needle. After deciding that they knew the Needle too well to learn anything by climbing it, they went on to examine critically, from a distance, the Eagle’s Nest opposite and to point out the way that they would insure their own safety in an attack on it. They scoffed at its reputed severity, and would really have then and there shown the neatest method of vanquishing it. On the other hand, it was a warm day, and they felt a little slack. Perhaps the Needle Ridge would tickle their jaded appetites a bit. Yes! they would walk up the ridge and get some fresh air 400 feet higher. Then they tossed up for leadership, and tied on their forty feet rope--one man at each end. Away went the leader from the notch, over the slab and up the chimney. When at the end of his rope it occurred to him to look back and see what his companion was doing. The poor fellow had stuck at the slab, and was in imminent danger of falling backwards. ‘Good gracious, man, what are you thinking of?’ shouted the indignant leader. ‘I am not going to be pulled down for any one!’ and promptly began to unrope himself. Then the man who tells the story hurried up from below, and fortunately arrived in time to prevent a catastrophe. Such an aspect of the utility of the rope need scarcely be commented upon, but I was not surprised a day or two after hearing the story to be characterized by a non-climbing acquaintance in town as a desperate venturesome individual, one who went about climbing mountains _with a rope_. By non-climbers a rope must indeed be regarded as a source of danger.

The plainest view of the upper platform of the Needle and the awkward corner that rises from it is to be had at the expense of a few minutes’ digression from the ridge. It is best to climb from the top of the grass chimney over to the right, and then down a steep and loose recess to a grass platform. A photograph of the Needle from this point of view has been published, and is an interesting one to study.

The second part of the Needle Ridge begins with a vertical wall of rock that from below appears very formidable. With ice about it is certainly difficult, and the traverse to the gully on the left is the wisest course to pursue under such conditions. But on close inspection a square corner discloses itself in the wall, and the fifteen feet of scrambling in the cleft are perfectly straightforward. At the top of the wall the ridge is broken up in a wonderful way, and huge blocks are distributed along the route in great profusion. The climbing becomes very easy, though retaining its interest to the finish at the top of the Napes; and the whole ascent may be disposed of summarily in half an hour from the Needle notch.

THE EAGLE’S NEST RIDGE was climbed on April 15, 1892, by a strong party of cragsmen. They were led by Mr. G. A. Solly, who was well backed up by Mr. Cecil Slingsby. They left a record of the expedition in the Wastdale book, and let the climbing fraternity decide for themselves as to whether the ascent was worth repeating. No exception can be taken to the rocks, which are perfectly sound and reliable, but an inspection of the ridge from the Needle shows how little hold there is for hands or feet. Moreover, the hardest part is so situated that a safe descent from it is well-nigh impossible for the unlucky leader who finds his strength or skill inadequate to cope with it. Nevertheless, I have recently discovered that with an exact knowledge of the available holds, and with the best conditions of the rocks, a man may safely tackle the ascent if well supported by a sturdy second. The situation is terribly exposed for the first 140 feet, and will try the nerves of even experienced mountaineers. Dependence is often placed on small footholds that slope slightly to the climber’s disadvantage; and on such ledges good nailed boots and perfect confidence are essential. The fact is that the ridge is not to be recommended; and its virtue is that there is no deception about it. The clean sweep of the sharp nose of rock from the green platform at the foot up to the patch of grass where the slanting chimney begins scares everybody away, tyros and experts alike. That almost vertical buttress looks impossible, and to nearly everybody it is so.

It was a felicitous discovery of Mr. Solly’s, a day later, that the worst part of the _arête_ could be avoided by taking to a chimney a few feet away to the left. Looking up at the ridge from the grass platform at its foot, the appearance presented is that of a vertical face of rock out by two chimneys each about a hundred feet long. The right of these is shallow and open, with tufts of grass interspersed with smooth slabs. Whether it can be climbed or not I have never ascertained. But the left chimney or gully is deeply cut into the wall. Its aspect is ferocious, but its disposition gentle. It can be easily reached and comfortably climbed. Solly’s original route was up the strict _arête_ to the right of both chimneys. The _arête_ to the left of both was investigated at Easter, 1895, and manifested an inclination to yield to the attack of a party. But the party has not yet preferred the attack, and the suggestion may be taken at its worth. Our gully is rather earthy for the first forty feet, and care must be taken by the leader to avoid dislodging stones on those below him. Then the rockholds change in character just above an outstanding pinnacle on the left, and there is an interesting passage into a niche at the back of the gully, a sloping and well-worn hold for the right foot offering the safest support as the body is dragged over into the corner. Hence the route is up the crack for a few feet and across a long slab to the right-hand wall, care being taken with a loose splinter that is generally seized as the handiest grip available. The rest of the gully is of grass and small scree, and at the top a view may be obtained down into the Arrowhead Gully. But for the ridge climb a divergence is made to the right almost immediately after the chimney pitch is passed.

A split is noticed in the _arête_, forming a small and sharp pinnacle, just below which the shallow, grass-tufted chimney finishes in sorry fashion. The climber passes through the cleft, utilizing a large block that is not quite fixed. On the other side he finds the junction with the original ridge route, ten feet below the finish of the curdling part. His next move is awkward, over a smooth rock with unsatisfactory sloping footholds, but there is no real danger with the second man at the cleft, and the leader reaches the grassy recess where, in the words of the first explorers, the difficulties moderated. It is large enough for two men to brace themselves firmly, and manipulate 150 feet of rope for an enterprising third man who may wish to come up by way of the outside edge.

This route to the recess we shall now briefly describe, suggesting at the same time that no man should attempt to lead up it who has not already explored the ground with the safeguard of a rope from above. From the horizontal grass platform at the foot of the climb a narrow cleft runs up to the ridge in such a way as to separate off the first fifteen feet from the main mass. The cleft is mounted with facility by aid of numerous holds of first-rate quality. At the top we find ourselves on the strict ridge, but after mounting ten feet the holds disappear entirely, and the verticalness of the next seven or eight feet makes a slight divergence absolutely necessary. On the face of the ridge that bounds the Needle Gully below us two parallel cracks run up steeply about a yard apart. They are so closed, and they run so obliquely up the wall, that good foothold is impossible in either, and handhold of even moderate quality requires much seeking. Nevertheless, they are both of immense importance, and are capable of giving all the required aid. The leader should here be joined by the second, and should belay himself to the highest effective part of the broken rock below him. His companion should be belayed independently. Then his next move is to work up for three feet on to the right-hand crack, with his fingers gripping the other, until the latter is felt to be good enough for a pull towards the ridge. The transfer of the right foot into the crack on the left is critical. I prefer to effect the passage without boots, as the toes can feel so much better where the crack is deepest. Then the outside edge a yard away to the left is within reach of the hand, and the leader, cut off from further assistance below, must manage very carefully to climb on to the ridge.

His holds are obvious; the difficulty is not so much in finding the way as in keeping to it. Fortunately a little flat platform is now reached, on which he can sit in comfort and recover his strength before attacking the next part. It is at about the level of the top of the Gable Needle, and Mr. Slingsby tells me it is the spot that the first climbers named the Eagle’s Nest. It is just visible against the sky in the view facing page 153, 3-1/2 inches from the foot of the illustration. The awkward part first ascended is scarcely twelve feet high, but is exceptionally severe if the leader takes it without the assistance of a second.

The consequences of a slip in the next portion of the climb are more serious, but probably it is technically less difficult than the lower bit. The Eagle’s Nest is barely large enough for the leader to brace himself firmly when helping the second man up on the rope, and he may naturally prefer to mount higher without assistance rather than peril the safety of both for the sake of a helping shoulder up the next piece. There are no belaying pins, and traversing to either side of the buttress is seemingly impossible. If he cannot be certain of holding on to the rope when a slip occurs to his follower, he had better decide to advance another fifty feet before the second man moves from his secure position below. The first ten feet above the Nest are remarkable for steepness and smallness of holds. If the rocks are cold and the finger tips benumbed, the holds cannot be appreciated at all, and the place becomes horribly dangerous. Yet there is a sufficiency of grip for hands and feet, and bootmarks can now be detected on the chief ledges. With perfect coolness and the exercise of his best judgment, the solitary leader will gradually mount the ridge step by step, and the tension on his nerves and muscles will be relieved when the level of the narrow pinnacle to the left is reached, and he notices the numerous scratches on the rocks of those who have climbed to the junction by the easy route. Mr. H. C. Bowen and I made the second strict ascent in April, 1898, with 100 feet of rope between us.

At the foot of the slanting chimney it again becomes possible for the leader to obtain assistance from his companions, though he is not the sort of man to require it if he has come up by the difficult way. The climbing is now delightfully safe and interesting. The holds are good and the ridge varied. From the top of the slanting chimney, which can be ascended without trouble, the true _arête_ below looks desperately stiff. The remainder of the climb will be found to consist of alternating horizontal and vertical passages. It is often possible to pass down the grassy ledges on the left, but the ridge is much pleasanter, and in wet weather actually safer. The views down the vertical walls on the right into the Needle Gully are magnificent, and the Needle Ridge is seen at its best.

The first party took two hours and ten minutes to accomplish their ascent. The ridge with the initial variation by the chimney has been climbed in half an hour by a party of three; hunger lent wings, for their lunch was waiting them on Gable.

THE ARROWHEAD RIDGE derives its name from a very prominent crag a short distance to the west of the Eagle’s Nest Ridge. It offers a very fine specimen of rock architecture, though the artist photographer has been known to express dissatisfaction at its outline, and to claim artistic license in modifying his pictures to suit his theories. Many of those who have been attracted to the Great Napes in search of the original have been much perplexed at the discrepancy between the old photographs and the modern reality. Some in their wrath have desired to get the photographer and his camera below them in a rickety gully, where, as Dent puts it, no stone is left unturned in their struggle to reach the top.

But if the artist cuts away a few thousand tons of rock from his negative with one fell stroke of his brush, if he commands the sun to stand still and the shadows to move on, if he subjects his angles to the influence of the personal equation of the climber instead of the mere observer, these weaknesses are not to be recorded against him. Mountaineering as a sport owes its advancement far more to the inaccurate descriptions of its literary devotees than to the simple statements of facts of the scientific, and its best pictorial advertisements have been those where art has assisted nature and laughed at science.

This to some extent is what we all need, and what we all understand. From the top of the Kern Knotts’ crack the evidence of a freely hanging rope as to the direction of the vertical actually contradicts one’s best judgment. The Kern Knotts wall is perhaps 15° from the vertical, but looking down it one would judge it perpendicular. Yet we never fancy a foothold horizontal when it is at a slope of 15° to our disadvantage, else the Eagle’s Nest Ridge would lose much of its terror. Rather are we then inclined to magnify the angle, and the actual slope plus our own inclination make together something like the 30° that would figure in a fancy sketch or a popular article.

Education is a marvellously fine thing, and in mountaineering it works wonders. It enables men to interpret the barren truth in accordance with their own experience. Notes of new ascents in the ‘Alpine Journal’ they can enjoy and assimilate; but, as in eating caviare, the taste needs cultivation, and many remain unequal to such food to the ends of their lives. Now because there are many false translations possible of the one true original, it must be easy with a knowledge of the truth to interpret it variously, and correspondingly difficult to get at the correct version from a bad translation. Even the mountaineering education fails to help us. All it does is to give us the taste for truth, and the sense of right to demand the genuine article. It might be printed in italics at the beginning of the chapter, like the usually inappropriate and obscure poetical references, and so isolated from the author’s personal exposition. This text and sermon notion has not, so far as my little library of Alpine books can tell me, been adopted by any popular writer on mountaineering, though the difficulty has been grappled with in other ways. Thus the Alpine historian or geographer may find the required facts neatly gathered together in a brief appendix, or still more briefly summarised in a letter published simultaneously with a review of the book in the ‘Alpine Journal.’

The sale of caviare is strictly limited, and the demand for ‘Alpine Notes and New Ascents’ confined to the few. Hence mountaineering books intended to sell well are written for the uneducated many, not for teaching purposes, but for the satisfaction of their desire for tales of adventure. So long as climbers tolerate this professionalism introduced into mountaineering--and there is every reason why they should in all cases where the professional is recognized as such--they must necessarily give the artist a free hand, whether he writes or paints or takes photographs. Personally I should ask for information as to the treatment of any negative that has been employed for reproduction of pictures. ‘From a photograph by,’ nowadays suggests a bad camera, a shaky tripod, an amateur operator, a cunning artist, and a long purse. But ‘truth is mighty and will prevail,’ so we may as well get on to the Arrowhead.

Viewing this Arrowhead from the easy ground near the Bear rock, it is seen to bear some resemblance to the Gable Needle (see Chapter XI.). In each case the rock forms the lower extremity of a Napes ridge, and its sides are remarkable for their steepness and smoothness. The outside edge of each is broken by a well-marked shoulder, and the head of the Arrow may be fairly well likened to the top overhanging boulder on the Needle. Here, perhaps, the resemblance ends. Certain parts of the climbing on the Arrowhead must be characterized as insecure, whereas the Needle is firm throughout. The former may easily be attacked from the notch behind it, the Needle cannot be similarly treated. The original climb up to the shoulder on the Arrowhead was by a recess on the east side, that up the Needle by a narrow crack on the west. (See photograph facing page 153.)

The first ascent dates from April, 1892, when a large party attacked the rock on the lines just indicated. The lower part of the buttress was mounted by a steep and open recess on the western side, a good climb leading directly to the shoulder half-way up, where the route was joined by the upper end of a corresponding chimney on the other side of the buttress. Thence the climbing was straight up the corner. It was not very difficult, but at a point a few feet below the final bit the rocks were insecure and the situation alarming. The stones are better now than formerly, but great caution must be used. In 1893 another party repeated the ascent, and showed that it was possible by passing round to the gap at the back to continue the climb along the ridge. The usual route nowadays is to reach the ridge by the scree gully between the Arrowhead and the Eagle’s Nest _arête_, climbing up the side wall to the notch, and so avoiding the Arrowhead itself. The wall is steep, but its ledges are conveniently disposed, and no trouble should be experienced in the ascent. Once on the ridge the climbing is delightful. The holds are good, and the narrowness of the crest along which we pass gives the spice of sensationalism that at all times offers an apology for easy climbing. The actual ascent of the ridge need take but twenty minutes, the descent about half an hour for a party of three, when conditions are favourable. There is one _mauvais pas_ of moderate quality: a wall of ten feet must be mounted to reach the crest of a tower on the ridge. Then follows a long stride across the gap on the other side, and it is sometimes amusing to watch the timid climber who fears that he may not be able to swing the hind leg over when in the colossus attitude half-way across. Above this all difficulties soon disappear; the gullies on either side rapidly rise to our own level, and the ridge ends shortly before the crest of the Napes is reached.

The view facing page 153 shows the Arrowhead at the left-hand top corner, the Eagle’s Nest Ridge against the sky, the lower half of the Needle Ridge, and the Gable Needle itself.