CHAPTER XII

_KERN KNOTTS_

KERN KNOTTS CHIMNEY.--This is one of the prettiest things in the neighbourhood, and it photographs well. The small bunch of hard rock that crops out of the wilderness of scree on this side of the Gable was at one time rarely visited, though so near the actual Styhead path. Its name was almost unknown. I confused it with the Tom Blue crags higher up on the fell. Nowadays the good quality of the chimney attracts many visitors, and several come to see it who do not actually climb. The Knotts are in three parts--Raven Crag, and Upper and Lower Kern Knotts. The middle part is the steepest and longest. A prominent nose or buttress springs down its centre, and is visible in profile at a great distance. The buttress is split off from the main mass by a vertical crack extending from side to side, varying in thickness from three or four inches to a foot.

The chimney had been inspected by earlier climbers before I had ever heard of it. The uninitiated of Wastdale often lament the secretiveness of those who know where new things exist but who keep the knowledge to themselves. Nestor is very reticent, and it is to be counted unto him for righteousness that one Christmas week, after bad weather had deprived us of all the ordinary climbing, he announced to the engineer and me that there was a fascinating little thing, the fancy of an ‘off’ afternoon, lying conveniently close to the hotel, that he would show us how to climb. I was lying on the billiard table just then thinking of the different kinds of nothing. ‘Where is it?’ I asked. ‘In Tom Blue’ was the reply, and as this was yet but a name to me I wondered whether Tom’s blueness measured his difficulty. The engineer was enthusiastic, and declined to allow me to remain longer on the billiard table after hearing this news. So in the gentle rain we marched out of the inn that afternoon, and worked our way up the Styhead path till we had passed the little spring that crosses it near the zig-zag. There we saw the great rocks looming up on the left and were told that Tom Blue awaited us there. The steep slope leading up to our climb was strewn with huge boulders in chaotic confusion. We could either keep to these or else make for an interesting crack in the Lower Kern Knotts that stood directly in our way. To give us a foretaste we took to the crack, finding as usual that its aspect from a distance gave no clue to the wealth of useful detail in the shape of handholds. Then a few yards more of mercurial skipping from boulder to boulder and we reached a little terrace at the foot of the fine wall of the Upper Kern Knotts. Since that day a huge cairn has grown up on this terrace at an astonishing rate of development, to mark the beginning of the climb. Perhaps by the date of publication of this volume the cairn will have grown to rival the crags in height, the climb may be _viâ_ the cairn, and Kern Knotts Chimney blocked up for ever. But for the sake of the afternoon strollers from Wastdale we pray that this may not be. The ascent is apparently in two portions, the lower one being the easier. Actually there is a third pitch, the one of perhaps greatest intrinsic difficulty, starting at the top of the split buttress and quite unnoticeable from below. For this reason the climb must be regarded as deceptive; it is one thing to struggle up the middle pitch with the impression that the worst piece is being tackled, and quite another to find a part of exceptional severity higher up. With that portion impossible the only alternative is to descend again, and that does not commend itself to many men who climb more for amusement than for instruction.

To return to our narrative, we roped up with hopefulness and took to the lowest chimney. The rocks were streaming with water which rapidly discovered that its line of quickest descent was along our arms and bodies, with only a slight delay at the boots while they were filling up. The chimney was sufficiently well provided with small ledges, first in the middle, then on the right-hand side, to enable us to draw up easily. Then we worked round to the foot of the second pitch on a level platform large enough for us all to rest ourselves comfortably. The chimney now became much narrower, just sufficiently large to receive the right thigh. With dry rocks the slight holds on the left wall now facing us would have been ample for the pull up to the level of a jammed stone in the crack; but they were now doubtful, and the obvious course was to insert the right hand beneath the jammed stone and utilize the grip it afforded. A loose block thus handled from within is much less liable to come out than when held by its projecting parts. In a climb where every jammed stone has been tested scores of times, sundry small precautions such as this may be omitted; but a new route should always be attacked with respectful caution, otherwise it may exact a speedy vengeance, and promptly repulse the careless climber.

Just above the level of this useful block, which was immediately proved to be safe enough, the footholds were a short way out of the crack on the left wall, and were not particularly good in the heavy rain. The next ten feet appeared to be very hard, for the only hold was to be by the grip of the right thigh in the crack, and the next jammed stone (on which a climber is standing in the opposite illustration) seemed insecure. It was desirable to pass this without clinging to its outer edges, and to test it when its dislodgment could do no harm. The motion upwards in such a case is rather slow; the leg that does the work must not be thrust too far into the recess, or else the business of balancing is awkward, and the lift at each ‘stroke’ is insufficient. The unemployed foot, as the skater calls it, can often help by a momentary purchase on a minute ledge; even the width of an eighth of an inch will suffice to steady the lift.

The jammed stone offered a fair grip underneath, but the ledges were now on the right wall, and the turn towards them was difficult under the circumstances. If we had known that the stone would hold we could have pulled straight up over it; but, out of desire to play the scientific game, I swung round by the hands so that the left leg was in the crack and the upper handholds visible just above my head. Next a pull-up enabled me to get the left knee well on to the stone, and finally to ensconce myself safely in the recess above it. Then our Nestor came up in splendid form, but with some anxious thought for the upper part of the climb. He asked me to mount up to the bridge above and see whether the remainder were feasible, for if not the best plan would be to descend at once. We disagreed over this, but being grateful for the introduction to ‘Tom Blue,’ and not knowing that it was Kern Knotts, I clambered up to please him while he was negotiating the engineer’s rope, and committed myself to the opinion that it was ‘all plain sailing from there.’

From the jammed stone which Nestor was now testing, the route was out over the right face of the chimney, and round again to the left where the top figure is shown in the photograph. A big block forms a bridge, beneath which meet the two chimneys from the opposite faces of the buttress.

We all reached the top of the bridge, and examined the final ridge that springs up for another hundred feet. The angle is not an easy one at first, and there is a scarcity of holds. The stylist who works only with fingers and toes would have much difficulty in getting up, even in dry weather. We one by one surmounted it by offering as many points of contact as possible to the rocks. They were streaming with water, and in a much more slippery condition than we should have preferred for a first ascent. The leader accepted a shoulder at the start, but he felt rather insecure till he was about twelve feet up, when a fine hold was found on the right. From that point the ground is more broken, and easy scrambling led to the top of the crags.

I have been told since then that it is easier to work round to the left from the bridge, and then up to the right; but a recent visit convinces me that both ways have their difficulties when the rocks are wet. Both are safe in dry weather. The direct route up from the bridge has lately been simplified by an artificial step, evidently cut with a chisel. It is a pity the timid mason did not go round another way.

To reach the main shoulder of Gable from here we may keep on towards Raven Crag and strike up a short chimney in its centre. It is not difficult, but its exit from the top takes time if the climber attacks the problem incautiously. Thence to the summit of Gable is a glorious walk.

From the ledge at the foot of the Upper Kern Knotts there rises another buttress a little nearer the Styhead. Between the two buttresses a short gully is found which offers a satisfactory route of descent from the crest of these crags. The entrance to the gully is difficult if tried from the foot of the buttress, but easy and suitable for beginners if taken on the left. It was from this spot that our party had the first view of the ‘crack’ that was to offer such sport a year or two later. Nestor with his characteristic caution vetoed the whole affair, and vowed he would never speak to me again if I attempted to climb it. The engineer, on the other hand, thought that it could not be much worse than the chimney which we had just climbed in safety, and that it might be a good thing to keep in mind for settled weather.

In December, 1895, I went up the chimney with Mr. and Mrs. F. W. Hill. The rocks were slightly damp, the weather misty and unpleasant. On the natural bridge I halted, and looked down the smooth wall of rock facing the Styhead. The crack was straight beneath, and Hill nerved me to the sudden resolve to descend by the rope and prospect the middle portion of the climb. We had only sixty feet of rope, but I was let down carefully and at full distance found myself in a splayed-out portion above the first pitch. The bit beneath looked very awkward, so awkward indeed that it seemed impossible to effect a descent on to the boulders below. There was only one course available, that of climbing up again. This was not so hard as I had fancied it would be, for with the sense of the perfect security in the rope that Hill carefully manipulated, came freedom of movement and a bolder style. This is the reason why many Alpine climbers who know not the joys of leading are entirely ignorant of their own powers; they as often err in underestimating as in overrating their skill; they can gauge their strength only by practice without rope from above. Emerging from the crack I joined up on the rope again and finished the rest of the climb, wondering the while whether a chance would ever come of penetrating the crack from below.

Before leaving the ordinary chimney, let it be added that the climb may have an initial variation by pulling up the vertical rocks to the west of the foot of the nose; the distance to the first big platform is increased about fifteen feet, but the way is pleasanter thus.

KERN KNOTTS CRACK.--One fine morning in April I started off for Keswick, grieved to leave Wastdale and feeling strong after a fortnight’s scrambling. Surely if the crack could be done at all now would be the time, with weather and physical fitness corresponding. Our party was small; two men were coming with me to look at Kern Knotts, and subsequently to exploit the Oblique Chimney, the where-abouts of which had puzzled them the previous day. It was a bargain between us that they should help me in the crack and I should lead up the Oblique Chimney afterwards. The advantage was thus all my own, and their brotherly kindness drew me to them. It was in the preceding winter that Hill had let me down from the top of the crack for a distance of fifty feet to a small loose platform of rock, and I had with extreme effort managed to return without tugging the rope. Since that time there had been opportunity to reflect and decide that if I could get up to the platform from below and then help another to the same level, we could jointly manage the ascent of the crack without further aid. If the platform could not hold two, it would be a case of ascending the worst part of the crack, the splayed-out portion some twelve feet high, without assistance.

On reaching the spot things looked cheerful enough. The rocks were dry, and I found that imagination had somewhat magnified my early impressions of the wall. But the reality is bad enough. The wall is one side of a buttress about one hundred feet in height, and marvellously smooth to look at. It is out down from top to bottom by a clean-edged slit passing right through the buttress and forming on the other side, as I have already explained, the now familiar Kern Knotts Chimney. At a height of thirty feet or so from the foot is the little platform, the niche at the back of which looks as though carved out for the reception of a piece of statuary. The portion of the crack that leads up this first part has a slightly different outlook; it is more open, and is provided with holds of a shaky description. Getting a companion to hold himself in this, I mounted his shoulder and felt about with the hands. There was nothing at all that seemed firm. So I called for the axe, and, remembering certain tactics in an awful rock climb in Northern Italy some years before, I rammed the axe longitudinally into the crack and endeavoured to use it as a hold. The plan is sometimes effective; it is not sufficiently often adopted _in extremis_; but on this occasion it would not act; the loose stones in the cleft were simply levered out of place, and I had to pass the axe down again. Then ensued a few moments’ fatiguing suspension from one arm with but poor foothold to ease the strain. It was no go this time; I had to let myself down and rest awhile. Next we sat on a boulder opposite the wall, and stared at it silently for a space. Surely that must be a foothold ten feet up on the edge of the crack. If, while I mounted his shoulder, the second man could hold the ice-pick in a minute fissure in the face, I might manage to step on to the axe-head and reach the edge of the platform. It would at any rate prove safer than the crack route. The plan commended itself to all, and we placed ourselves in position. It turned out that the axe was scarcely necessary, for with a little delicate balancing I reached the top hold with both hands and dragged up to the lower step in the ledge. Thence to the platform was an easy matter, and we all began to breathe freely.

It never occurred to me that I had made no mental note, in my previous ascent of the crack, of the method of getting up the next part. It was certainly a stiff struggle that Christmas, but I was then out of form, and might reasonably hope to succeed more easily now. Nevertheless, when it came to the test I found it impossible, three times in succession, to get my head above a certain projecting block at the top of the niche. Each time it caught me by the back of the neck, and would not release me till in desperate extremity I let myself down again--no easy matter with exhausted arms. After the first try my two friends went round to the other side of the buttress, and hastily climbed the chimney so as to be ready to help me. I could hear their every word through the fissure, and rather surprised them by making a quiet remark. On a small scale we were having the Funffingerspitze incident repeated. Neruda was climbing that famous Dolomite, the scene of his tragic death in 1898, by a new route and heard another party ascending by the older way on the other side of the mountain.

My pockets had been emptied out before the start. After these failures I flung away my coat and tied on to the rope that had been let down from above. With renewed confidence the fourth attempt was successful. When the first twelve feet were passed I found two wedged stones a short distance above my head. These forced my body out of the crack altogether, but they offered respectable holds during the process. Above these the next pitch involved a process of backing up, though the chimney was much too narrow to brace firmly across from side to side.

I joined the other men at the top after a few more struggles, breathless and exhausted. Resting a few moments we descended the Kern Knotts Chimney and went down to lunch near the spring. Later on, when I effected the ascent without a rope, a rapid passage of the worst bit left me with enough reserve strength to climb up the rest of the way comfortably. The eighty feet and the descent by the chimney on the other side were then disposed of in seven minutes.

The remaining passage upwards from the cave is by the _mauvais pas_ of the ordinary route.

The account of this crack has been given in much detail. It is the sort of thing for a strong party to climb on their way out of Wastdale, or some afternoon after a wet morning’s imprisonment in the hotel. The danger of the first pitch can be minimised for the leader by holding him with the rope from the right-hand recess of the wall. In fact there is a pinnacle in this recess at about the level of the niche, which could be utilized as a holding-place. A shoulder to start from and an ice-axe support in continuation are certain to be appreciated. Messrs. Reade and McCulloch have lately shown that the niche can be reached by the crack. On the worst bit which immediately follows I expect a steadying hand from below will be generally necessary.

When a man can go up this without assistance from above he may well be regarded as fit for the Grépon crack. This latter is of the same length and general character. It is easier, but harder to enter, and it comes after more climbing; moreover, there may be ice in it to create trouble.

KERN KNOTTS, WEST CHIMNEY.--A note may here be added concerning the only remaining chimney on these crags that can claim to be a distinctive feature visible at a distance. It is about sixty feet to the north-west (or Wastdale side) of the ordinary route, and is plainly discernible from the lower part of the Styhead path. A diminutive cairn now marks the foot of the chimney; another stands on a flat ledge a couple of yards above the narrowest and hardest portion of the climb.

There are two or three ways of reaching the foot of the main difficulty in the ascent, all converging to a point about twenty-five feet above the lower cairn. Here a vertical crack rises abruptly, varying from ten inches to nothing in width, and terminating ten feet higher in a right-angled corner of the rocks that will on no account permit any ‘backing-up.’ For some distance the recess looks as difficult to tackle as the corner of a room, and it is only when the climber gets to a height of fifty feet that his troubles appear to moderate. One wet day some twelve months ago our party could make nothing of the ascent, but shortly after last Easter (1897) I made another attempt on it. To help me on the difficult pitch a second man was persuaded to scramble up to the foot of the crack, as I anticipated the need of a sturdy shoulder. But the platform on which I was waiting proved to be much too small for two, and when, by elevating myself a few feet, it was safe for him to follow, I was too high to use his shoulder and had to manage with his encouraging suggestions and the little excrescences on the right wall. The first pull up the crack was by an excellent hold for both hands on the left, using a narrow ledge with the inner side of the left foot, and the crack itself for the right thigh. It then became desirable to turn round so that the outer edge of the left foot should grip it without losing its support during the process of turning. This accomplished, the method of ascent became obvious. Small holds for hands and feet were distributed regularly up the right wall, perhaps three ledges for a rise of ten feet. During the latter part the left hand sought support in the grassy corner of the chimney, which here began to open up again. Then a long pull with the arms brought me up to the flat ledge that marks the finish of the difficulty. There a cairn was built with the loose stones that needed shifting, the second man coming up like a lamplighter to help in the operation.

Thence our route was partly up the buttress, by rather exposed ledges, and partly in the chimney. The rocks were excellent and the open mountain side was reached in another fifty feet. The climb is worthy of Kern Knotts. It is more risky than either the chimney or the ‘crack,’ but with a steady party and dry rocks it will go perfectly well. Nevertheless, I am far from willing to give it an unqualified recommendation. A slip of the leader on the awkward part would almost certainly cause the second to be pulled away from his hold, and the two would have an objectionable fall over twenty-five feet of steep rock. But the striking appearance of the difficult pitch is enough to keep away all weaklings.