CHAPTER XIV

_PAVEY ARK_

The Langdale Pikes form a beautiful group of hills four miles to the east of the Scawfell Pikes. They lie at the head of Langdale, and the highest point, Harrison Stickle, is a prominent object in many a favourite landscape.

Harrison Stickle is splendidly shaped, and manages to give an impression of much greater height than it really possesses (2,401 feet). Half a mile to the west is the Pike of Stickle or the Sugarloaf. It has a little climbing on the west face. Mr. Gwynne writes of it thus: ‘The Sugarloaf itself is a very fine peak, that, viewed from the valley, has very much the appearance of the Mönch. It runs down towards the Stake Pass in a spur, which must be the starting-point of most of the climbs on this mountain. There is a curious gully here, which is worthy of the climber’s attention. It does not run from top to bottom, but suddenly begins about the middle of the crag. The difficulty is to get at this gully, and some pretty climbing can be obtained in the attempt.’

Somewhat south of the mid-point between Harrison Stickle and the Sugarloaf is the summit of Gimmer Crag. It overlooks the old hotel of Dungeon Ghyll, and offers in dry weather a considerable amount of indiscriminate scrambling.

One of the finest little tarns of the district lies 900 feet below the summit of Harrison Stickle, on its north-east side. Stickle Tarn is almost as solitary as Easedale, and its surroundings are decidedly finer. It is about an hour’s walk from Dungeon Ghyll, by a small footpath keeping close to the stream that is fed by the lake waters. The view across the tarn is a delight to climbers’ eyes. The great cliffs of Pavey Ark, rising 700 feet above the lake, are darkly reflected in the still waters. They are deeply cut by two gullies that immediately arrest attention. Each marks a little notch in the sky-line. A third notch further to the left indicates the head of a slighter indentation in the face of the cliff, which, so far as I know, has not yet been explored. The right-hand ‘Great’ Gully was first climbed by Haskett Smith in the summer of 1882. The left, called the ‘Little’ Gully by way of antithesis, the same climber explored in June, 1886. A lady ascended the Great Gully in 1887, and later years have seen a steady succession of visitors to these crags.

Well towards the north end of the cliff is a wide scree gully with a square notch at its crest. Near the foot of this a safe natural path may be followed obliquely across the face. This is the well-known Jack’s Rake. It starts rather steeply, but soon assumes a gentle, uniform gradient. It crosses the Great Gully a hundred feet below the top; there then follows a rather awkward bit for the walker, who will need to scramble up a corner to get on to the last portion of the rake. It crosses the Little Gully within fifty feet of the Summit, and ends on the buttress just beyond. Two chimneys spring from the level of Jack’s Rake to the north of the Great Gully, which both look interesting. Our pleasant scramble is thus described by Gwynne: ‘This ledge [i.e. Jack’s Rake] offers a multitude of good opportunities to the climber. It runs obliquely across the face of the precipice, but it need not necessarily be followed throughout its length by the mountaineer who wishes for something a little more exciting. About half-way up there runs on to the ledge a chimney which--when it is not a small waterfall--forms a pleasant climb to some broken rock above, whence the summit is easily reached. If, however, the water in the chimney makes it uncomfortable and unpleasant for the climber, he may still arrive at the top of it by choosing a long bit of steep, smooth rock on the left. There are two clefts which afford fairly good hand-and-foot holds, and from there the top of the chimney is attained.’

THE LITTLE GULLY.--Some six years ago I paid my first visit to Pavey Ark. The accounts of the Great Gully were very enticing. One visitor spoke of it as having only one pitch, ‘but that was severe.’ Another, commenting on the first, remarked: ‘Yes! it has only one pitch, but that one lasts all the way up!’ Then a celebrated climber had estimated its height at double the actual amount, which was a testimonial to its good qualities all the more acceptable because it was given unconsciously.

There were tales of a leader pawing about for half an hour on the second man’s head and shoulders, in search of holds. Gloves and sticks and other impedimenta were understood to lie in profusion at the foot of the stiffest bit, left there by those who could climb no higher, or those who sadly expected that after their despairing attempts had failed they would have no further need for such articles. In short, there was a good deal of pernicious exaggeration concerning the Great Gully, and I went for it expecting great things. It was rather a long walk from Wastdale, over Great End and Bowfell. The descent to Dungeon Ghyll was taken for the sake of a look-in at the waterfall, and for the next half-hour hurrying up to Stickle Tarn, I felt to the full the futility of having run down from Bowfell to Langdale to save time. Arrived at the small dam that holds in the waters of the lake, I saw the two gullies on the other side, and concluding that the left-hand one looked harder, skirted the lake, and made for its foot. It was a foolish mistake, thus to confuse the two routes. The Little Gully was ascended that day, and until Haskett Smith’s book came out three years later, describing the locality in some detail, I fondly imagined that I knew the best thing on Pavey Ark.

The gully is narrow at first. Its walls are red in colour, and a film of water generally covers them. The holds are not particularly good, and the steepness of the gully renders extreme caution necessary. Both walls are used, and our advance is after the fashion of a man on a ladder. Then the gully widens, and the difficulties come in successive steps till a great overhanging boulder blocks the direct ascent. Here the right wall is sufficiently broken to offer a method of circumventing the pitch, but in wet weather the place is bad. Just above this I found a stick, conclusive evidence to the simple mind that the hard bit of the Great Gully was now being approached. It looked as though it had been there for years. The view backwards was most impressive, the tarn appearing almost beneath my feet. The second obstacle was now to be considered. The gully narrowed to a thin vertical corner plastered over with wet green moss. The take-off was earthy and disagreeably loose. The only holds were on the right wall near the corner, and were few and far between. I hesitated below for a long time, scarcely knowing how best to start operations. A big jammed stone came away in my hands as I made a first attempt, and crashed down the gully from side to side. At last I rammed the left knee tentatively into the wet corner, and edged up a few feet with the aid of sundry slight supports for the right foot. Ten feet higher an excellent hold was reached with the hand, and the chief trouble was over. Huge boulders were piled overhead confusedly, but they gave plenty of opportunities, and no longer had the smooth, almost shiny surface that characterized the rocks further down. The top of the gully was reached three quarters of an hour after starting. It was half-past five, and snow was beginning to fall; I thought it desirable to hurry, and a steady trot westwards round the head of Langdale Combe and the further side of Black Crags brought me in three miles to the path at the Angle Tarn and the foot of the up-grade towards Esk Hause. Thence a steady two hours’ walk in the dark brought me safely to Wastdale, in happy ignorance of the fact that I had only visited the Little Gully. But to this day I think it as hard as its neighbour.

THE GREAT GULLY.--Shortly after Easter, 1896, I begged some friends to come over and climb the Great Gully with me. It was my last day at Wastdale; I was due at Coniston the same evening, and the Langdale Pikes offered a pleasanter walk to the Old Man district than is given by the Eskdale and Cockley Beck route. My friends stipulated that we should call a halt at Kern Knotts on the way out and attempt the ‘crack.’ This we managed with expedition, and continued the journey betimes over the Styhead and Esk Hause.

The three miles from Angle Tarn to Pavey Ark are rather tedious, though the view of Bowfell and of Pike of Stickle relieves the monotony. It is a wild open moor that we have to cross, and its gentle slope is very deceptive. For a long time the sky-line in front of us, after rounding Langdale Combe at the top of the Stake Pass, recedes as we advance, and it is not till the grassy ridge of Thunacar Knott is gained that we begin to see the upper crags of Pavey Ark. Nevertheless it is much better to approach the crags in this way from the Wastdale direction than to descend first towards Dungeon Ghyll. The great rocks strewn about the crest of the cliff are most singular in character. Their surface is as rough as that of the magnesian limestone in the Dolomites. If only the whole face of Pavey Ark were of this formation we should have a fine opportunity for practice with the scarpetti or rope-soled shoes used by the Tyrolese rock-climbers.

We descended towards the tarn by an easy slope between the cliff and the north-east ridge of Harrison Stickle. Then at the level of the base of the crags we crossed a water-course, and traversed over the scree to the foot of the Great Gully, passing the entrance to the other on our way. The remarks already made, and reference to the diagram on page 203, will perhaps give sufficient indication of the place at which we now found ourselves. In misty weather the locality can be identified by the branch gully to the left, that starts at once and loses itself 200 feet higher up.

The lower part of the climb very much resembles the corresponding portion in the other gully. The side walls are close together, the rock is steep, and hand-and-foot scrambling fairly continuous for about 150 feet. When the rocks are wet some special care is necessary at a place thirty feet from the starting-point. Then comes the first pitch, a remarkably fine piece of rock scenery. An enormous boulder completely blocks the way, projecting at least fifteen feet at its upper part. The left wall is practically hopeless, but the other side shows a series of small ledges that enable the climber to work up to the flat corner between the boulder and the right wall. Formerly this bit was grassy. Only a few small tufts now remain, and the holds are therefore more obvious. A pleasanter way lies through the cave and out by a narrow tunnel in the roof to the same flat corner, which is just discernible from below. That way our party followed. The dripping water from the roof was a trifle unpleasant sometimes, but there was a great sense of security in adopting the through route. The tunnel required careful going until one’s eyes got accustomed to the darkness. Then the handholds could be distinguished and the platform reached in safety.

The view outwards was most brilliant. Sunlight on the distant range of Fairfield and Helvellyn, the serpentine Windermere appearing here and there far away to the south; Langdale in all its loveliness, with the watch-tower of Harrison Stickle at its head; and the gloomy Stickle Tarn 500 feet beneath us. Our own situation was sufficiently striking for the recollection of this pitch to remain impressed on our memories. We stood (one at a time, by the way) on the very edge of the overhanging eaves of the huge cave beneath. The side walls of the gully seemed to cut us off from all communication with the world. We could only realize the solid platform and the enduring rock to which we hung; all the rest might have been a fantasy. Even the bold fisherman down by the shores of the tarn, slowly manipulating his rod as he cautiously waded knee-deep in the water, seemed to belong to another species. It was incredible that I should be crossing London within twenty-four hours; and the thought of it only stirred slightly in my mind, without actually shaping itself until this present time of writing.

The difficulty was not quite passed. To reach the top of the pitch we had to haul ourselves up a tight little corner between the boulder and the side wall. Formerly the headroom was so limited that it was necessary to keep out a little, and effect a rather sensational haul over the front of the boulder. Since the first ascent a piece of rock has fallen away, and the corner is easier. There is no actual danger for the leader, as his rope can be securely held in the interior of the cave. In fact, he may, if he chooses, obtain any desired assistance from the second man properly belayed on the platform. The corner is only ten feet high and the rocks are very good.

Almost immediately after the first pitch the gully undergoes a great change in appearance. It still remains narrow, but the bed has alternately vertical and horizontal stretches of wet and slippery rock. The hardest piece is generally regarded as the second pitch. It consists of a long slab thirty feet high, constituting the true bed of the ghyll and the only available way up. It is set at a steep angle, and appears to be singularly devoid of useful holds. On the occasion of the first ascent it was ‘lubricated by a film of fine mud,’ and our own observations gave strength to the conviction that such was its usual condition. Loose gravel is being continually washed down the incline, lodging in a most annoying manner on the best holds. Small wonder that this ‘brant and slape’ part gives pause to many climbers. Yet it has been climbed even when ice is about, thanks no doubt to good nails and cool judgment. We treated the pitch with the utmost respect, carefully clearing away the grit from each little ledge and working as close to the corner as the holds would permit. Fifteen feet up we passed the worst spot, ugly to look at but not bad enough to turn us back. Then the slope eased off and we could walk up grass and scree on to Jack’s Rake, a hundred feet above the pitch. The rake really terminates the gully. To the left is a small chimney forming a genuine little obstacle to an advance along the rake. That was certainly no suitable finish to our climb. A few yards to the right showed what we wanted, a gully that should lead out to the top of Pavey Ark. We found the rocks there presented the rough surface that characterised the boulders up above. There were several great slabs blocking our way at first, but it was a real delight to get over them. A short and narrow chimney followed, with such gripping powers that our clothes clung to the sides tenaciously. As Haskett Smith remarks, ‘it would be quite difficult to make a slip on them.’ Then we walked out to the top, three-quarters of an hour after entering the gully, and while leisurely coiling up my rope we discussed the question of tea. Should the others accept my invitation to Dungeon Ghyll and then return to Wastdale at dusk, or should they make straight for Wastdale at once? To my sorrow they objected to the suggested extension of their walk and strode off to the west. My own course lay first to the foot of the crags, where my rücksack had been left, and thence to Dungeon Ghyll and Coniston.

THE RAKE END CHIMNEY.--Besides the third chimney described by Gwynne as running half-way up on to the ledge, there is a short but excellent route up the crags starting near the foot of Jack’s Rake. The following note was supplied by Mr. Claude Barton:--‘The climb is in two pitches, the first being broken up into places where you can play up a second man. The _mauvais pas_ is just at the top of this. A moss-grown wall and two jammed stones must be surmounted, and the leader may need some support. The second pitch is a fine chimney blocked by a large stone that is passed by the interior, and then used as a take-off for the final easy concluding portion. The climb is certainly harder than the Great Gully.’