i6 
LAiND & WATER 
November 23, 1916 
Among British Crags 
By William T. Palmer 
IT is just wisdom to say that the men who take 
short cuts see but Httle on the way to their ob- 
jective. But the rule does not apply to the rock- 
climber who, seeking tlie straightest route by 
ridge or gullv, sees phases of the mountain-land which are 
flndreamt of by any other traveller. 
There are many ways of looking at our mountains. 
To the motorist they are mainly a background to a thin 
ribbon of road — a wall of grey rising to the realm of 
mist —a cone of shaded purple against the gold of sunset — 
a broken blue line of distant summits above which white 
cloud puffs arc sailing. To the ordinary walker a moun- 
tain is a long rise of grass or heather or broken frag- 
ments (or all these in combination) with a panorama 
gaining in depth and width as one ascends. To the more 
adventurous, the scramblers, there are cliffs to be skirted, 
rugged slopes to be scaled, and there are glimpses and 
visits into wild corries and coves indeed. But even in 
path-tamed Cumbria few are those who pass near the 
cliffs of Scafell or the Pillar, or of (ireat (iable, and enjoy 
the fme rock-scenery. In (ilencoe and in Skye the hill- 
climber of the robust type is still less in evidence, and 
after all onlj- the rocK-climbing enthusiast gets into the 
true inner presence of the mountains. Without com- 
panions and without the climber's rope, access is for- 
bidden to the sanctuary of the rocks. 
However, there are some of us no longer fit to force 
our way up terrific gullies, to creep up the long slabs, 
to storm the sharp ridges, the steeples of rock, but able 
still to ramble in the easy places at the feet of great crags. 
Besides more active comrades no one else comes our way, 
for one must have a shrewd idea of the reward before 
lacing the. loose scree, the ladder of mossy rocks which 
bars the way. Having had our taste of stern mountain 
delights, one is unwilling to abandon entirely the place. 
The aroma still tempts us to add clinkers to our boots 
and to carry the light ice-axe instead of the less ferocious 
(and in real need useless) walking stick. 
Without the rope rock-climbing would bo terribly 
dangerous and the best part of it quite impossible. With 
the rope properly used, the ordinary " dithcult " course 
becomes perfectly safe. In the " severest " of modern 
ascents, however, it becomes a question whether the rope 
is an advantage or the reverse. The long runs-out of 
ninety to one hundred feet which are necessary on some 
courses where holds are scarce and resting places at wide 
and inconvenient distances, make terribly severe work, 
and one sometimes feels that on such a task each member 
of a party would be safer working " on his own." The 
leader is so insecurely placed that assistance to a slipping 
comrade would be given at great peril, while any working 
of the rope from below would fail to give the leader any 
assistance. The margin of safety on steep rocks is too 
small to allow of any jerking or catching of the rope. 
But rock-climbing on less expert and thorough lines is 
more leisurely. There is time and chance to look round, 
and one notes with wonder and awe (old-fashioned but 
true phrase) the naked limbs, the bent and twisted stratas 
of the mountain. In the solid faces of rock glimpsed by 
the casual tourist, the climber penetrates narrow but 
deep-cut clefts, finds hanging valleys choked with scree 
and debris, lofty towers and steep buttresses of rock. 
The nearer one gets to Nature's giants the more splendid 
and awe-inspiring their outlook. There is a glory in the 
view from the Cioch, with great smooth slabs shelving 
in all directions which cannot be dreamt of from the broken 
climbers' tracks even of the fine Harta Corrie in Skye. 
In the latter, all the splendour of storm riven crag is 
above, to right or to left ; there is nothing but tribula- 
tion and rough travelling below. From the airy perch 
of the Cioch, one cares little about progress, and the pro- 
blem of routes docs not intrude too much. One is for 
the time being lifted to the point of exaltation. 
There are glorious though less renowned " bits " 
among our British crags hidden here and there from the 
careless. How often has one scrambled up a fan of scree, 
up a ladder of wet blocks, steadying here on slippery moss, 
gripping there on tiny ledges in the wall —a score stepis up, 
a curve, mayi>e a traverse on a path wide enough for 
straying venturesome sheep, and then on a hot August 
day one finds a drift, stained and shrinking, of last win- 
ter's snow. Or it may be an array of graceful rock domes 
and minarets, a wall cleft into narrow chimneys, with 
many a steep arete. Here lies concealed a cliff within 
the cliff, a palace of delights, a new world altogether. 
Aloofness from the World 
When the rocks round such a recess otter no scope 
to the trained climber, one may get a proper taste of 
aloofness from the world. This is an unexplored, a for- 
gotten place, sacred to the birds of prej'. Their nests arc 
on the ledges ab6ve ; their food the carrion of sheep and 
deer which, straying up here, have forgotten the way out 
and died, "^'et crawling to a gap in the battlements of 
rock one spes the road far away, and the tourist slogging 
drearily past the tiny watercourse which marks for me the 
entrance of a rocky fairyland. He knows not the place — 
and anyway did one haul him up with a climbing rope 
he would never appreciate its simple pleasures. His 
ideas of crags arc lotty out-bending slabs up which tlic 
experts wriggle, at every moment in deadly peril of their 
lives. Let one be thankful for his ignorance ! In trying 
to see the great climbs which are hidden among the 
upper rocks he passes by the happiest resting-place 
among the mountains. 
On such explorations of minor rock-circles the rope is 
essential. No one but a practised climber should pass 
the lower pitch of (say) Deep Ghyll without the safeguard, 
though a party panting up the steep screes of Lords 
Kake may have taken advice on roping to the extreme. 
However, slips in Lords Kake have had rather nasty 
consequences before to-day, and one should rather com- 
mend than condemn the action. Personally one has met 
with many a " gangway " of steep grass and scree the 
final leaving of which was greeted with joy. 
But common sense must govern one's explorations. 
There is a certain water-course in Cumbria— you may 
find it readily for yourself — ^which promises much pleasure. 
But alas 1 its boulders are uniformly loose, its ledges 
covered with screes, and when one has removed much 
rubbish the bedrock beneath is merely rotten and stream- 
ing with moisture. The angle, however, is not too severe, 
and after a dirty, tiring light one escapes into an open 
featureless ghyll. AH- the bold rock is in the outer 
escarpment of the mountain : pass that, and you are in 
medicore surroundings indeed. But as a rule the higher 
you ascend, the steeper and bolder the crags, the narrower 
and more tempting the gullies, the sharper and more 
difficult the aretes between. And of course more grand, 
more striking the rock scenery. 
In winter the whole aspect of the crags changes. Courses 
which once were easy are now glazed in thin ice, and have 
to be tried with caution, while steps can be cut up the 
snow-choked gullies at severe angles. Koutes which were 
mere toilsome scree are now in their glorv, and one rises 
rapidly and easily to the heights. Everything is capped, 
curtained, buried in chill white of snow and blue of ice, 
except the overhanging slabs, the stark grey-blackness 
of which is a wonderful sight. The springs among the 
crags are frozen at the source, the moss-drapery is fringed 
with icicles. There is full silence now, except for the 
hum of the wind among the pinnacles, and the occasional 
crackle as an icicle loses its grip or a crunching when a 
snow dome slips from some lofty rock. 
Some of us are persistent enough in our love for tlie 
crags to wander out even on wild days in winter, and what 
is our reward ? Sleet and snow and rain, floods to be 
forded, the peril of avalanche, the gloom of mist at mid- 
day. Nothing but choking obscurity among the crags, 
nothing but chill and damp below. Yet somehow 
there is a charm in fighting up the half-seen course, in 
wrestling with the tempest, and plunging waist-deep in 
soft drifts. It's queer, but it's human, to feel pleasure 
in the midst of discomfort. And yet one cannot define 
anv reason why ? 
