© J A D Healey 2014
I caught my usual train to Bettws, and walked as far as the Forestry place, when a lorry picked me up and took me to Glan Dena. I found that the hut was fully booked, so I waited until Anne appeared, and we slept in the van outside, and went in to cook our breakfast.
The clouds were low. We made our way in a leisurely fashion up Cwm Tryfan and then over the col to Glyder Fach, where we eventually found our way onto Needles Eye (we didn't do the first pitch, we seemed to come in from the left). Anne was leading; she did the Eye facing the wrong way, but it didn't take her long. In nails on the wet rock I found the traverse into the Eye went better on knees(!) and then we were soon up.
Anne didn't call this a day, so we went on to Dolmen Buttress, Route II; we led through and found it fun. Of course I had the chimney at the top.
There wasn't much more daylight, so we hurried down to the top of Needle's Eye and then down West Gully. I went first and waited for Anne where I thought I might be able to advise her, but her reaction to my advice was to jump(!) lower down. I reached an impasse and ascended to take a different line which worked out very well.
Anne had to try my original route, and I told her that the only way would be to jump it, but Anne is rather obstinate, and she was getting the rope uncoiled as I left her to recover the sack before the last of the light went. It was fun in the mist by Llyn Bochlwyd; there was a party camping there. We made our way back to Glan Dena and moved the van on to Isaf, but it was too crowded to find a barn, so once more we slept in the van.
Breakfast was delayed by Anne mixing the milk and paraffin tins, but eventually we were ready, on this perfect morning. Eventually inspiration came, and I suggested Craig-y-Bera. I wanted to do something exciting and so I thought of Angel Pavement. We drove round to Drws-y-Coed and walked up by the wall to the foot of the crag. The sun was brilliant, but the air cold.
Anne started to lead, and this worked out that she had the crux. When my turn came I found that the rock there was particularly polished, but it worked out well and was pleasant. The rest was an anti-climax, but needed great care because of the loose rock. We descended to the foot of 'No Highway', and Anne went down to the bottom and recovered my boots (I was in PAs) while I looked out the climb.
Anne had had the last crux, so I decided this one was for me and I set off up the first pitch. The rock was shocking. I was some time finding a stance; the belays were sound, but I was afraid that everything under my feet would go. Eventually Anne came up and led through, and then I was at the crux.
Fortunately, the rock wasn't too unfirm, and I had the odd runner on and was up the overhang. It was easier than I expected, and the traverse gave no trouble, but was in a lovely position, and soon the climb was over, and we were on our way.
At Bettws, Anne was awaiting my train. Apparently she had delivered the Hilarys (her passengers) to the hut and had returned for me.
There was snow (a sprinkling) on the tops, and mist about, so we thought it an idea to climb on the Three Cliffs. The Hilarys didn't know Flying Buttress and, as they said they were out of training, we started up that. H. Maursell followed me, and H. Orr, Anne. All went well; we were soon up and on our way to the next cliff for Crackstone Rib, which I suggested as a suitable route, when I stopped at the foot of Sabre Cut. It was such a lovely day, and I had promised myself this for years, so why not try it.
I was a little while at the bottom, traversing too far to the right; I had a low sling on, and then found a little chock and put another on and then stepped boldly round, only to find that I had the slings in the wrong order, and had to return. This was as well, as I then tried straight up, and it went quite well. Higher up, the rock needed more testing, but there were plenty of possible belays. I suppose that now the route has been well gardened it is nowhere near a 'vs'. My Hilary followed quite well, and then Anne led it, but her Hilary had trouble and decided not to do it.
I was some way on by now and it was cold waiting in the shade, but we gave Anne a rope down while she descended and recovered the slings, and climbed up again. Then I could go on. I had climbed the corner by bridging; it was my absolute limit as far as stretching was concerned, so I was interested to see what Hilary would make of it, as she was an inch or so shorter. She thought she'd try climbing up the wall on the right, and then coming along the shelf, but this seemed absolutely devoid of handholds, and I was glad I hadn't led it that way.
We were both curious to see how Anne would tackle it; we told her the facts as we had found them, but she preferred Hilary's method and, I think she was very glad that she was still tied to our rope, as she extricated herself. I had a second attempt before I launched myself on the crack and then it went OK.
I thought it a shame that after Anne had led the most difficult pitch, the first, she couldn't lead this, so I suggested that Hilary might like to pay out her rope. She agreed, although I felt it was asking rather a lot. It was very cold in the shade and she'd stood on the same stance for ages, while Anne had tried to rappel, had returned and then descended on our rope and come all the way up again. It wasn't Anne's type and she had a rope right at the top.
It had been a lovely afternoon, with lovely red effects as the sun had gone down behind the snow sprinkled Crib-y-Ddysgyl. There was no time for more; we rejoined the other Hilary, and so back to the van and Cwm Dyli. Anne had a most amusing evening proof-reading "Mountains and Memsahibs" for me.
It was a lovely day, sunny and with quite a sprinkling of snow on the tops, cold, but ideal for ridge-walking. I think I envied the Hilarys, who decided to do the Horseshoe. Anne wanted to climb, so I suggested that Tremadoc was low, and mightn't be too cold.
We really wanted to try Rinetta, but weren't sure that it would go, so decided to warm up on Christmas Curry. We went along the road to the milestone, from where I couldn't really decide which was our buttress. I went up into the wood, hoping to be able to see from the foot of the rocks, but the track I was on was taking me up onto the rocks. We sat down and looked at the Guide and found that we weren't up the first pitch, so we continued.
Anne led at the first and I tried to follow (in nails), but thought better of it and changed into PAs; it was amazing that the handholds then seemed quite adequate! Mine was the next pitch and I thought it very pleasant, and then Anne led to the foot of the last pitch. I went up Christmas Curry, but flicked the rope over and Anne followed up the Micah Finish – a good ridge it looked too.
I had noticed a couple climbing to the east and soon I was hailed by Harry Smith, taking Shirley up a new route of his. We went along to meet them, as I wanted to ask Harry about Rinetta, and he advised us against it, saying that strong men retreat from the Mantle Shelf.
The four of us then made our way to the Crag and Cave Hut, where I talked my way into using it at New Year, should all other accommodation fail. After a cup of tea, Harry took us down to his variation onto Olympic Slab. Shirley seconded him on the traverse and, watching her, I realised that she made a good second for Harry.
When it was my turn, I didn't offer to lead it, but I found this part easier than I expected. I used a higher foothold than the others. I couldn't see Anne, but I believe she was a little impressed by the pitch. I was too late to see Harry on the slab, but I took a couple of photos of Shirley. Then it was my turn; Harry teased me by reminding me that I had wanted to lead it. How glad I was of a rope, I considered it very thin, pure balance, but my PAs were fine.
We were early, but there wasn't time for another climb, so we made our way back to the hut to clear up and await the return of the Hilarys before Anne took me to Crewe.
I reached Manchester from Brighton at about 7.30 p.m., rang up Exchange Station and was delighted to find I could have a sleeper to Glasgow. At Droylsden I had plenty of time to go through my Christmas mail, change and pack my rucksack. The 1.03 a.m. train was in the station when I arrived soon after 11 o'clock, and I settled down for the night. It was a four-berth compartment, with one other place booked, but at the last moment two youngish girls were brought along by their father for the other two places.
I arrived at Central Station at about 7.30, and eventually found my way to St. Enoch's where I soon ran into Tim and Roy, and we made our way out of the station and found some breakfast. We caught the 10 o'clock to Fairley Pier from where we boarded the Glen Sannox. It was quite a nice day, but not brilliant, so I didn't bother to photograph the approach, thinking it'd be better on the return!
At Brodick, we enquired after Mrs. White at the Manse and were directed up the road opposite the pier (the opposite direction to the hills!) Mrs. White was expecting us, and showed us to our rooms (mine had a view over the bay to Goatfell) and then the meal was ready.
In the afternoon we walked round the Clauchland Hills. There were some very fierce showers, but I was well wrapped up in pac-a-mac and hood. I thought my Christmas colds were on the mend, but after Mum's worrying, I was taking no chances! We were rather disappointed in the party's historian; we expected him to give us lots of information about the fort and standing stones, but he was silent.
I was ready first, so set out on my own, knowing that the others were faster. There were various routes round Brodick Castle, and, as I got clear of the grounds, I was horrified to see the tracks of two people in front. I knew Tim and Roy had overtaken me, and that I had no chance of catching up. As soon as I saw them I shouted, but they were already stopping and so I didn't have my gentle amble up the mountain!
Soon after we traversed right, we were in the mist and snow, and it continued to the top. From the summit, Tim took a compass bearing and led us along to North Goat Fell from where we descended to the Saddle. We had intended to continue over Cir Mhor, but didn't get as far for various reasons (it looked a long way up, there was no sign of a path, it looked grim in the snow etc.), so we set off down Glen Rosa and that took long enough! On our way through Brodick, we called at the electrician's asking about bicycles and gave our order for five. At the Manse, we found David and Marjorie already installed and spent the first of many evenings playing cards.
New Year's Day and a lovely bright crisp day. There was some delay over breakfast (the Whites had been celebrating hogmanay) and then we went down to claim our bicycles and took them as far as the last cottage up Glen Rosa. We walked along the glen and up the Garbh-Alt, and then made over to Beinn Nuis. The views were superb and the sun was shining, and the top snow covered, but soon we got into a cold wind (it was bitter).
We stopped for lunch below the top and just after this it was almost impossible to get along. Then over the top and over Beinn Tarsuinn to the beginning of the A'Chir. It had been my idea to put in the first two tops and now it was 2.30 p.m. and we were only at the foot of the ridge we had come out to climb. We resolved to start up it and turn back at 3 o'clock. We didn't get very far; we came to a slab, where the scratches went straight across, but not today, there was clear ice on the holds. We traversed at a lower level, went up a little chimney and then pulled ourselves over a stone and then all went down again! – we had roped for this pitch and it took some time.
We tried a shorter track on the lower part, and used the rope to get down, leaving a sling behind. Time was getting on, so we hurried down the glen to the west of Beinn a Chliabhain, then, in the dark, down the Garbh Allt, and so to the bicycles, and a pleasant run back to the Manse. We had no lights of course, but we hoped that the sergeant would stay at Lamlash; he was keen for promotion they thought, and might not like our cycling without lights.
We didn't want to cover the same ground on successive days, so we cycled to Corrie, and went a little way up Glen Sannox, before crossing the stream at the Barytes Mine, and cutting up Suidhe Fhearghas. The wind was biting and bitter; we had intended to go round the Witches Step and climb up it, but when we got there it looked a long way round, so we decided to descend it instead. We had some lunch, and then inspected the climb.
Roy went round the bottom and reached the gap in no time. I went down first, and Tim came as last man. I had snow to remove at times, but there was no ice, and there were no real difficulties. We soon had the ropes away, and were scrambling up onto the Castles. It had started as a clear day, but the mist was getting lower by this time and I suggested that it might be prudent to return, but fortunately the others weren't convinced, and we were soon at the top of the Castles.
We weren't sure of the descent of this branch of Glen Sannox, so decided on North Glen Sannox; we continued along the ridge until we found a convenient way into the glen and then sat down for some more food, before beginning the very long slog down the glen. Everything comes to an end, even the pathless bogs of North Glen Sannox, and, when I least expected it, we came to the Lochranza Road, which we followed down to the bicycles.
Tim found a call box just by, and rang up Mrs. White to say we'd be late for dinner (we usually were!). Arran had masses of call boxes. We cycled on to the Corrie Hotel, and the rum warmed us for the cycle ride home.
Once more we set out for the A'Chir, this time taking the shortest route, up the gully to the south of it. The wind was so strong and cold (we could lean right back on it) that we decided the ridge wasn't justifiable, despite what Tim said about the calm on ridges and summits, compared with cols.
We stopped for lunch and got so cold that we thankfully contoured to the left of the ridge and came to the saddle before Cir Mhor. This was the day; we were actually to try the central peak. On all the previous days we'd said "And then we'll go up Cir Mhor", becoming more cautious as time went on and changing to "We can always go up Cir Mhor if there's time", but this was the day. After three unsuccessful days of trying, we made it, up in the snow to the mist-covered summit. We hoped to traverse it, but went in a circle looking for the beginning of the way down and gave it up!
Once more down Glen Rosa in the dusk and the pleasant cycle ride home.
Most of us declared an off-day, but David and Marjorie thought it was their chance to get up Goat Fell, so they braved the wind and snow and mist. Tim and I went round to the Corrie boulders and I held a rope occasionally for Tim. I didn't make much progress myself. Then a walk along the shore, and a cycle ride back to Markland, where Tim had promised to call on Mrs. MacArthur who had fitted us up at Mrs. White's. How we were greeted as long-lost friends! I wonder what Mrs. MacArthur does for people she has met before! We sat by the fire and watched the rugger on the TV, were given a glass of sherry etc. And so back to the Manse.
This was our last day, so we had to do the A'Chir, and the weather wasn't too bad. We got away as soon as possible and up the Garbh Allt again and over Beinn a’Chliabhain to the familiar col before the ridge. We found there was much more ice than on Wednesday, but we pressed on. Roy went round the bottom again, and David and I roped together, and Tim and Marjorie. After the little pitch we knew so well there was easy ground, and David and I pressed on, hoping the others would follow our tracks in the snow.
Presently we came to a descent; I thought of belaying David on half the rope and giving him the other half as a handrail, but he managed to climb down unaided, and was able to direct me onto the holds when my turn came. Some places after this seemed quite desperate to me, for horizontal rock even has its moments when plastered in clear ice. We were making good time, when we came to the end of all things, when we retreated and descended to the right and traversed along (the traverse was quite belay-less I realised). We heard the second rope make the same mistake, go to the end, and then retrace their steps to the traverse. I think it was after this that David found it most interesting of all; the rocks steepened and were completely 'verglaced', his vibrams could find no purchase on them at all, so, to save myself hauling (I thought I'd let him haul), I tied onto the middle of the rope and gave him down the spare end as a handrail. One or two pitches and we were up and joining Roy, waiting for the second rope, and saying what a grand finish to the holiday it had been.
We caught the second boat, the "Glen Sannox", then the train to Glasgow and had a slow run home, with the snow falling thickly on high ground. I left the others at Carlisle and caught a train to Preston, missed the connection and had an hour to wait, but arrived in Manchester at about 8 or 9 o'clock.
I caught the 5.35 to Bettws, where Anne met me and took me to the hut, where Marie and Michael were already installed and made pleasant company.
The weather was anything but promising; we drove round to Cwm Idwal and went up the Nameless Cwm (too far). There was no Cneifian Arête, so eventually I listened to Anne, and we went down and found it. It was very cold, so we didn't stop to rope, but ran up the ridge among the hail showers. At the top I thought we were going to walk on over the Glyders and I must say I admired Anne's hardiness in doing it with a bare head (I had my hood up), but I soon found that Anne hadn't a hooded anorak, and wasn't enjoying it, so we went round.
Anne had never done Lockwoods, so we went up that, still unroped, but we left out the tree pitch.
Tremadoc seemed the obvious place, and we went to the far end to Badgers Buttress. I started up, but went too far to the right, so Anne led through and followed the correct route, which gave the last pitch to me.
I hadn't liked the bottom part, it was shaly and not like the rest of the rocks, but the top was all right (it required thought). I put on a runner and was eventually up. Then we went on to Ate Aqua Vale. It was Anne's turn to lead, and she tried a desperate traverse to the right of the route. This time I led through up the climb, and Anne descended and joined me.
It was an amusing pitch, some of the heather is missing now, but there is a handhold for the first move up and then, with the rocks in their wet condition, I could see no alternative to putting a knee on a grass sod. It worked – when a ray of sunshine came through. I couldn't bring myself to do it before. As Anne came on, I remember watching the storms out to sea, wondering whether they'd come our way and add to the hail on the ledges, but no, the afternoon gradually improved. A pleasant finish to the climb and we were soon making our way back to the van and the hut.
Anne took me to Crewe, but the 8.40 was two hours late in Manchester.
I arrived at Bettws at 9 o'clock and started to walk along the road, not thumbing anything for fear it was Anne! Presently, a car stopped; it had just stopped for another walker, but I piled in as well. We stopped at the Gwryd, while the driver contacted the rest of his party, and then I got a lift down the Beddgelert road in another car of the same party. I didn't like to ask them to use the old road, so I went down until I was just past the power station and then to the amazement of the string of cars which had stopped, I disappeared over the wall, and made my way down towards the farm. It was pouring with rain (which was why I hadn't walked from the Gwryd) and I was in my klettershuhe, slipping in the mud. Just above the farm I tried to climb a barbed wire fence and just as I was completely entangled, they switched on the light! Just before I reached the power station Anne arrived, much too hearty for my mood!
I was looking forward to meeting Joy at the hut, and finding the fire lit, but all was in darkness, just a note to say that Joy was at the Gwryd, and I had to wait until Anne arrived with the key. I lit the fire and dried out a little.
The weather couldn't have been worse; we went up to the Gwryd and fetched Joy down to the hut and sat and talked, then in the afternoon we decided on the pictures. At Caernarvon we found that "The Yangtze Incident" was on. Joy had seen it before, but didn't mind sitting through it again. It was well worth seeing, but we could have done with a better audience!
The weather was reasonable; I said it was too cold to climb high up and I know Anne was waiting for me to say "Let's go to Tremadoc", but instead I said let's walk with Joy. At the Gwryd we found that Joy had said she'd be in for lunch, but in the morning she wanted to walk up the Miners Track and back down the Pen-y-Gwryd Track.
The causeway was flooded, and it was a long way round. Where we came to the Pen-y-Gwryd Track Joy went down; Anne suggesting accompanying her, but Joy said no, so we went up into the mist and onto Snowdon. There was a freezing wind once we reached the summit ridge. We returned over Crib Goch; what a wonderful moment it was when we got below the mist. I had forgotten that the rest of the world was in sunshine, and the greens were brilliant.
On the way down I met my kind providers of transport on the Friday night. All Anne said was "So I have driven 600 miles to walk up Snowdon". She took me to Crewe.
I had a pleasant journey, Jean driving me to the D.G. before going back to Raw Head.
It was a leisurely breakfast and then some parties who knew where they were going set out, and I waited for the stragglers; in the end I found myself with Jean and Muriel. We went up to Middlefell and Jean (avoiding the first pitch) took Muriel up, while I followed behind, sometimes roped. It was quite a thrill to look down and see Denise Shortall lead the proper way with no trouble at all, after two men had been an age on it!
At the top of the buttress we walked along to Gimmer where a rope of six were on Oliversons. the bottom three decided to retreat. My two companions had done Oliversons, but didn't know B route, so I changed out of my nails and we did that. I left out the corner, for my old friend the next bit, but Jean came up the corner. The climb was well worth doing under those conditions; it was bitterly cold. There was a strong wind and there was the odd patch of clear ice on the rocks.
We descended the gully and joined the Morin Evans party for the stroll back. We had tea in the lounge before changing, when I pinned on the bunch of Freesias which Evelyn brought me, and descended to the bar to hope to meet our guests. What a noise – it was unbearable; I suppose it was because it was mostly women's voices. We had arranged the place names and menus on the tables, and eventually it was time to go in.
I was between Howard Somervell and Charles Evans, but there were only five on the top table, and sometimes I was rather left in the middle! There were a few snags; for instance, we hadn't ordered the wine for the top table, and it was some time before I could catch Toni's eye.
Then came the speeches, firstly Denise Shortall – she redeemed the character of the younger climbers, as far as speech making was concerned! I don't know why she'd agreed with me earlier in the day that we must rope together and form a suicide pact! Howard Somervell replied, but I can't remember the gist of his speech. He didn't quote the bible this time. Then I had to get up and announce Charles. I was standing and I couldn't remember the expression to 'propose a toast'. Frantically, I took up a menu, found it was all down there and read it, and read on to the bitter end. What I said was "I must ask Charles Evans to propose the toast to the Club and President. It wasn't until five days later that I remembered that I was the President!
Charles gave us his experiences of climbing in the Himalayas with a Pinnacler. Then finally he ended up about the Pinnacle President. Then it was my turn; I stood up at once to get it over. I was in the soup, everything depended on my first paragraph and that was quite inappropriate. I couldn't thank Charles for his speech when he had dragged me into it, and everyone else had made cracks about his marriage into the club, so there was no need for me to say the same. I had to plunge practically straight into my second paragraph, which was concerned with the club's members. This led me onto the year's achievements, and the Dolomite meet and my old tale of Brenda's walk!
Eventually it was over, we had an interval, the room was cleared and then we re-assembled for Denise's talk on the Himalayas. Her theme was that they weren't what they're made out to be; they smell, they involve lots of walking! – they're cold in autumn etc. She showed some lovely photos and was most amusing, but she left out the bit she told me later, that they got out of having a liaison officer by explaining that they were on their honeymoon, and a third person would be out of place.
It had started to snow the previous afternoon, but it stopped during the night and was drizzling in the morning. We hadn't much enthusiasm, but Anne, Jean, Esme, Gill Robinson etc., set out up the Blea Tarn Road. We found it wasn't bad outside, so we wet off up Blisco. We found ourselves at a cairn, but it was that of Blake Rigg, and we had to descend a little before reaching the lovely distinctive cairn of Blisco.
We lunched on the sheltered side, but found we soon cooled off sitting down. We continued; there was no enthusiasm for the Crinkles, thank heaven, and we descended by Brown Gill, getting below the mist eventually. Back at the D.G. we found that the Morin Evans party were starting out for Middlefell, and Anne joined them, but I had two excuses, that I had done it the previous day, and that I had a committee meeting. We had a very pleasant tea in the upstairs lounge, while awaiting the accounts, which the meeting had to pass.
After dinner we re-arranged the downstairs lounge and I showed my Dolomite photos, plus Welsh ones taken before and after, but it was from the sublime to the ridiculous after Nepal.
I didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn as Joan offered me a lift to the station; we only just made it. I ran up to the train to stop it, Joan ran up with my case, and the poor porter ran up with my sack.
I reached Bettws at 9 o'clock, and started along the road, but a car soon stopped and gave me a lift to Glan Dena, where I found Monica, Bob and Susan already installed. Alwine and Ted Warr were still there, before going back to Scotty Dwyer.
Bob had a cold and decided to drive to Bangor for the day, the rest of us went up to the Gribin Facet and up Senior's Climb (or Two-Tree Route). There was some discussion about the route down, but we certainly descended the bottom pitches of Gully and Slab. Getting into the Gully I got into an awkward position (the rock was rather slimy), but fortunately I had put the rope around the block to the left and I took hold of that and lowered myself down. Susan and Monica rappelled!
We had lunch at the foot of Zigzag and then I started up that. I felt the holds and didn't like it in nails, so I changed into sock-covered PAs. It went easily enough like this. I brought Alwine up and then enjoyed the next chimney. There was a hold-up below; Susan couldn't manage the first pitch, so Monica joined onto our rope. We all assembled on the quartz sprinkled slab and then Monica led the last pitch.
We made our way back to Glan Dena for a meal, and then went round to the Gwryd.
It was a perfect day, so warm, the party decided on Tryfan, starting up the Milestone Ordinary. I don't think I've ever done the Ordinary before. Monica took Susan and I followed with Alwine and Bob. We lunched in the sunshine and then scrambled up the north ridge, where we met the Crag and Cave who had finished Munich, Pet Knapp, Harry Smith etc. We made our way down the south ridge and then along by Llyn Bochlwyd and back to Glan Dena for tea, before Anne gave me a lift to Crewe.
Jean called for me at 5 o'clock and took me home for tea and Tim called for us at 6 o'clock, and at Altrincham we picked up the two Vins. We stopped for tea before Corwen, and then at the Gwryd, where I found Monica and Bob. We went down to Cwm Dyli where we found that Anne had spent the day going over Snowdon etc., the Glyders and Tryfan! We tried to discuss plans for the next day and Anne said there was no snow on Lliwedd, so we thought there might be a climb there. Then the men packed and left to camp above Llydaw, and we went to bed.
We were late getting away as Anne had to mend the fire and put the wires back into the light socket. We were half an hour late at the camp-site. How envious I was when I saw the tents pitched in the deep snow and heard that a candle didn't flicker out of doors the previous evening. We started towards Lliwedd, but presently Anne and I found we were alone; we waited and Vin Dillon caught us up and said that the others had decided on the Horseshoe. The party had previously decided on the Ridge Route, but I now suggested Primitive, as being easier.
We started up towards the beginning of Primitive, but the snow was deep, the way was steep and the going slow. Anne was axeless, but following fairly strongly. Vin was below and soon started making excuses. I think it was this which made me lose heart; I felt if he didn't approve it couldn't be justifiable, and soon I was suggesting turning back. Anne must have been bitterly disappointed, but managed not to say much, and we scrambled up the Gribin Ridge. This was practically free of snow, and made me realise that the Ridge Route was probably a better bet than Primitive. We went on to the summit, and then down over Crib Goch (only a fraction of Anne's walk the previous day).
At the bottom, we met the others, and invited them down to the hut for a meal; we had the soup and fruit salad ready, and they provided material for the frying pan. Anne had to leave and we were ready at about 7.30 and drove to beyond Chester for a stop.
I arrived at Auburn Street at 6.50 – five minutes late, but Tim didn't say anything. He picked up Jean and Vin, and we had a lovely run, arriving at Gern-y-Gorf Isaf at 9.30. Ernest, Pete and Pamela were in camp; we pitched tents and Anne arrived with Joy and Alwine. There was some tea brewing and then we were ready to set out.
The Nameless Cwm had been mentioned and Anne drove Alwine, Joy and me there. I had been forbidden to approach Tim's car to get my axe. Anne said I could collect it at Ogwen, and then at Ogwen Tim didn't seem to be arriving, and I said I wasn't going up without my axe, so Anne said I could have hers, as she wouldn't be taking it. We started up the Nameless Cwm; Alwine and I got ahead, as Anne waited for Ivy. Alwine didn't seem very interested in Cneifion Arête and looked with horror at a party going up a good gully on the right, so I reconciled myself to going straight up the Cwm, when Alwine pointed out a little gully I had been looking at enviously. We started up; there was mostly snow, but the occasional pitch of clear ice, where I used the axe. Once when I removed the ice, a spring of water gushed out. Higher up there was an awkward corner to round, and we roped up for that (Alwine was very confident, but I found her a little bit of a responsibility with three children!).
From the top we walked round to the head of the Nameless Cwm, but couldn't see the others, so we went on to Glyder Fach for a little to eat, and met Jean Carter. Then we went on to Y Garn, and down the ridge to Ogwen. The wind was bitingly cold on this, and we were soon down. Llyn Idwal wasn't frozen over, unlike the llyn higher up.
We walked back to camp, installed ourselves in Tim's tent and used his primus to brew tea etc. Eventually everyone came back.
Anne drove Joy and Alwine back to Cwm Dyli, the rest of us turned down Anne's offer of an evening meal in the hut, but we went round to the Gwryd, and then to the hut for coffee.
Tim and I seemed to waste hours saying "Anne will come before we're ready" – sure enough she did! She drove Ernest and Tim, besides Alwine and me to Ogwen and we walked up to Glyder Fach. We walked to the west of Llyn Bochlwyd, and there were no tracks to the cliffs; it was hard work in the heavy snow and Ernest turned back, which left us an even number. At first, when we were five, Anne said she'd solo behind Alwine and me, but then she was able to climb with Tim.
People had recommended Spiral Variant; it was very slow going, even on the scrambling bits, removing masses of snow, and then I came to the step into the chimney. I had a sling just to the side of me, and I wouldn't have come to any harm, but I didn't like it! I had to pull myself in with my left hand on the wall of the chimney and I didn't like it. It wasn't really iced, but there was a glazing of ice on it, so eventually I decided to retreat.
I suggested Groove Route as an easy gully, but as we were traversing along to it (a slow proceeding), people pointed out East Gully Arête, so we started up that and it went very easily, but (under snow conditions) it had its 'crux' to give interest. It took us practically to the summit and we descended by Bristly Ridge back to Ogwen and so to camp.
It had been a sunny day for those who didn't choose a crag in the shade and, as I watched Anne drive off, I thought of the reason I'd come to Manchester, to sit in the sun when other people had to drive away. Jean and Vin had been given tea at the farm through rescuing a sheep, and they were ready first. We were delayed as Ernest's car wouldn't go, and we had to push it to the top of the field (the place where Tim had parked his!). We had a pleasant drive home, stopping at Chester, with a peculiar incident afterwards, as Jean and I went chasing my wool all over the car-park!
I caught the 4.30 to Wales and had an hour to wait for the bus. I was reading in the waiting room when Nea looked in, hoping to find Eveleigh Leith. She took me back to the hut instead.
I suggested the Parson's Nose, but other people were for the Cneifion Arête. There was a delay before we got away; we had coffee at the Gwryd while Dorothea awaited Chris and Mike. Eventually we set off to the other valley, and the Gravina family insisted on going to Glyder Fach. We all set out that way, but decided there was masses of snow and traversed across to Cneifion Arête. We lunched at the foot of it, and saw Nea and Co. going up the Cwm. The climb was worthwhile as a quick rock climb under snow conditions. I had Molly with me and Margaret and Ada followed behind. From the top we put away the rope and walked over the top of Glyder Fach. Molly and Margaret dropped down to the Gwryd, but I accompanied Ada, who had left her sack on the wall at Ogwen, and wanted to go back to look for it.
We decided to cut down to the west of Bristly Ridge, but it wasn't very successful. I found some nice cutting snow, and amused myself cutting down it; then there was a little scrambling bit, and eventually we were down to the Llyn and so to the road. The sack was no longer on the wall, but Ada found it at Ogwen Cottage. The Gravina cars were there, but no signs of the owners, so we started to walk along the road when Nea came along and gave us a lift to Dol Llech for tea, and so back to Cwm Dyli.
Some people got a lift to Pen-y-Pass; I started my solo walk, when Maud, who had just arrived, shouted, and we went together, and met Molly, Sheila and Freda. I found that they had brought no rope, so how glad I was to think Maud had one, even if it were ¾ weight. Margaret had tried to describe the lower traverse to the Parson's Nose. Maud was in front for this first part, so I was looking round, but could see no obvious line. Too high, we branched off in the mist and got onto semi-crags, so decided to go up to the col and hope for the higher traverse.
We thought we'd missed it once, so went up to go over Crib Goch, found it, and followed it around. Fortunately the mist lifted as we approached the crags, and we were able to find the Parson's Nose. Maud was horrified at our small length of rope, so we decided on the East Ridge. We lunched at the foot of it and then I went up on Maud's 120 ft rope, with Freda and Sheila, so that Maud could follow on my 93 ft of rope with Molly. It was bitterly cold, snow on all the ledges, a ferocious wind blowing; at one point I wondered whether it was wise to go on with such numbed hands, but that was at the only difficult point. I brought up Freda, went on and Freda brought up Sheila and then joined me, and we sat in the howling gale for quite an hour; apparently Maud had a rope down for the bottom pitch, climbed to the stance, then decided she didn't like it and Sheila had to pay out her rope, while she climbed down and then she brought up Molly.
Time was getting on; I was doing hurried calculations and decided we'd be all right if we reached the top of the Pen-y-Gwryd Track by 5 o'clock, and we ought to do that. We were soon up, then there was the halt while the others descended to the gap. I followed them and then started up the ridge of Crib-y-Ddysgyl. I'm afraid I took all the easy alternatives; it was a matter of time. The girls were magnificent, for I had to leave the lower rope management to Freda and Sheila, and eventually the angle of the ridge eased, and we were able to go unroped, but still we had quite a lot of height to make and Molly, unused to anything like this, wondered just how tired she was getting. She found a stick someone had left on the way, so I took the hint and lent her my axe.
I was quite happy in nails, and the other two girls were confident, one in nails and the other in vibrams, but Molly didn't like the snow, the powder had been packed down by the many feet. Eventually we passed the trig. point and then went down and got out of the wind at the top of the Pen-y-Gwryd Track (at 5.05). Molly was even more unhappy here, but she is an enterprising girl, and she soon had her boots off and, as she came down in her socks, kept assuring me that her feet were beautifully warm.
Eventually we were below the snowline; Molly put her boots back on, and we had a happy walk back by the Llyn, down by the pipe line and then a quick run down the last slope to the hut for tea before the evening meal.
The A.G.M. took a long time. I was against the raising of the subs, but by the time I had made my speech against it (as I thought), everyone was convinced that they should be raised! I thought it was all over when Evelyn brought up the subject of men at the hut, and it was well and truly ventilated!
A few photos were taken outside the hut, and then we started out for the Three Cliffs, Dorothea ferrying a party of seven! By the time we reached Dinas Cromlech, I realised that I hadn't my rope; I hadn't put it in my sack as it was wet. I had picked up the sack to get my camera, and hadn't gone back for my rope. Jill and Jo had gone off on their own, and the five of us were left with Dorothea's rope. We decided to take it in turns to climb; firstly Dorothea took Freda up Flying Buttress, while Molly, Sheila and I waited below. The Gravina boys arrived, but hadn't a spare rope.
By the time Dorothea was back, there were other parties starting up, so we decided on Parchment Passage instead. Molly turned back in the trees, so Dorothea took her place. I found it still had its moments in boots, but Dorothea and Sheila waltzed up it.
Then it was Dorothea's and my turn, so we went to Carreg Wasted for the Wrinkle. Some of the girls met an acquaintance on the way, so we told them to talk their way into a climb, but they had no luck. Dorothea and I had no trouble on the climb, but thought it over-rated and came back and joined the girls. Dorothea said she'd go back to the Cromlech to see Chris and Mike, if I took the girls up Crackstone Rib.
I got to the first tree and then along to the second, and eventually I tied onto it, but I could go no further, as Hugh Banner's party was making a direct start, straight up to the tree. It was most amusing; apparently the third man had led Ivy Sepulchre earlier in the day, but this pitch was too much for him. I saw the rope down from Hugh tighten, so Hugh said "would you like a tight rope?" and the reply was "As a matter of fact, I think I'm off".
Eventually I brought Freda along. The trouble with having only 50 ft of rope between us was that I couldn't go past that stance. I had to use it, and there was nowhere really for me to stand, let alone Freda. Then Hugh said we'd better go through and his third man (who was up by now) paid out my rope as I went up the Nose to the third Holly Tree. Then there was a terrible lot of knitting; apparently Freda came unroped at one point, but eventually she was able to come on. Both she and Freda climbed it very quickly, although not quite in their usual style. Higher up another party was traversing in from the right, and then Hugh appeared, but we were able to keep ahead. I used the long step on the top pitch and the girls followed with no trouble at all.
One of the Gravina boys drove us back. Apparently Dorothea had arrived as a leader had come off Cenotaph Corner and injured a hand, and she had taken him to the Gwryd. We all had tea and toast together, and then returned to the hut for our meal.
In the evening we returned to the Gwryd for Simon Clark's lecture on Pumisillo, the peak whose summit Mike was the first to tread. How the standard of snow climbing has gone up! It was a most thrilling lecture.
Dorothea took one party round to Tryfan and Dorothy Arning was talked into taking another! We made our way up to Heather Terrace and along to Gashed Crag, but it was in the shade, and still had a fair amount of snow and the party turned back (I was in nails, I was all right!). We went back to North Buttress where Margaret led a novice, and Maud led me.
Margaret made the first pitch, but Maud had a rope down. I followed in nails, but mostly on my knees, I am afraid. The next few pitches weren't quite so simple in nails, either. Dorothea's party did Pinnacle Rib, and we all met at the top, also Jill and Jo from Grooved Arête. Dorothea had to drive back, but the rest of us went over the Miners track. It was a beautiful evening and we were glad of the walk.
It was a smaller party. The weather was a little doubtful at first, so we decided to go south. People promised to find Canyon Rib in the Aberglaslyn Pass. We left the cars and walked back from the bridge; there was some disagreement as to how far along we had to go, but eventually we found the foot of the climb and started up. I started up, followed by Tim Gravina, leaving Nea to bring up a rope of three, and then two others behind. It was a lovely climb I thought. I didn't know what to expect, so the top moves were very pleasant, 'vd' I thought, despite Maud's description of a 'diff' (I was glad I had changed from my nails). I descended part way to watch Nea on the Top Nose, and then we all met at the top and Dorothea, Margaret and I sat and basked in the sun, which had appeared by this time.
Nea had disappeared to take Ada to the station by the time we were down, and we decided to go to Tremadoc. Fortunately we chose Badger's Buttress, and there was just time for it before the sun went down. A grand day, after the four previous ones.
Someone wanted Tennis Shoe (and I wasn't the person who whispered Javelin Buttress after it!). I was expecting Tim Healey, so I left a note for him, telling him to look out for Evelyn, child and dog! We went up the slab, and I set off up Tennis Shoe with Margaret. We kept our lead as we were only two, while Nea had to follow with Dorothea and her Tim.
The second pitch went very well for a change, and we waited at the top for the others. I got rather cold. Eventually I saw a familiar lone figure approaching the slabs and called down to Tim and got an answering wave. He walked up by the side, and came down where I was rashly talking of Javelin Buttress. Derrick had taken me up it about 10 years ago, and I remembered that, after I had reached the hold, there had been no trouble.
I started up the first pitch, found it was interesting and needed working out, and thankfully tied onto the thread belay, and brought up Tim. Then I went on and reached the high handhold. It was certainly a stretch, and my hands were cold, but eventually I moved up, to find the holds above were rather scanty. "I can't do it, I can't get down", I let my second know, but he promised to guide my foot into the hold, and I managed it. I thought about it and decided to have another try. This time I moved up to the position for making the mantelshelf, but I didn't like it. My excuse was that my hands were cold, also the crack above looked slimy. Certainly I decided I'd rather go down, despite all the people watching (Scotty and a course) etc. and Tim and I knitted the ropes until we had a rappel fixed. Back on the terrace we decided to be less ambitious and tried the original route.
The start went so well that I went on up to the Holly Tree belay, without leaving a runner and Dorothea and Margaret couldn't follow. I was rather surprised when Dorothea came off, for I think of her as being such a sound climber. Tim followed up, but didn't take a stance at the flake, and still the others couldn't come, so we went on alone, taking the outside route, but the climb gradually peters out.
We descended to the top of the slabs and then descended the ordinary route, which Evelyn and Antonia had come up earlier. While I was making an exhibition of myself on Javelin, apparently she was able to talk about when she used to do it! Back at the car park we boarded our three vehicles to Dol Llech for tea and then had another stop at the Gwryd.
Tim and I left before the others, for Tim to get his tent pitched with Tim Gravinas, and for me to start peeling potatoes. I had done nothing so far towards an evening meal, but I didn't do many potatoes as Dorothea soon arrived and decided they should be cooked in their skins. We invited the Tims in for a meal; they retired at a tactful hour, and then we discussed again "Men at the Hut".
Tim Healey had said he'd breakfast in his tent and appear at 9 o'clock, by which time I was ready, but we still had to decide where to go. The weather was doubtful, so we decided to go south and drove off towards Tremadoc. We stopped at the foot of the cliffs, but didn't leave the car. It was raining and, after all, the great attraction of these cliffs is that they are dry! One wouldn't get the pleasure of a wet day in the mountains on them.
We soon drove on, and went round to Cwm Silyn and walked up to the Fisherman's Hut, and sat in that and wondered what to do. Of course I had Kirkus in mind, but thought if the weather wasn't suitable for that, there was always the Upper Slab route, and Overhanging Chimneys, but sitting and listening to the rain on the corrugated iron, I even had doubts of Overhanging Chimneys. I didn't want to get soaked and do a slow climb; I wanted to climb in boots and I'd be happier in socks on a good 'vd'. Tim suggested Engineers Climb as a longer, easier one, and I set out for that, but once we were out, we found that the roof had magnified the rain, and we weren't going to get soaked!
I was still going up for Engineers, but fortunately Tim was for the Chimneys, and the thing was his pigeon from beginning to end. We started following a faintly marked route until we got to Maurice's Crack, which Tim avoided, but cut up too soon. He came to a hidden ledge, but there was no way in which it could have been walked round to from the right. I knew it wasn't an overhanging chimney he was trying; he descended from it, and so did I, but then he led it (it was that sort of day).
When we reached the wall we knew we were right, but the rock was so slimy, Tim retreated and so did I, but then Tim took off his boots and led it. When I followed, I found it very pleasant; there was a hold over the top which I had not expected. Then we came to the Nose and Tim would go round to the right straight away, which must have exhausted him, for when I tried this pitch I was able to get up it, but took a stance before the swing into the upper chimney, so as to leave this to Tim.
Once up, we decided it was a good climb, varied and satisfying in nails on a wet day (even if Evelyn cannot remember having any difficulty with it!).
Tim drove back to the Gwryd to meet Cecil Bullock, and then dropped me at the hut before going back to Stewarts cottage at Nantlle.
Everyone was up at 6.30 a.m. cleaning the hut and packing, and the others (Nea, Evelyn and Antonia) were off at 8.30. I spent a little longer on the hut and then walked to the Gwryd to meet Tim's party (Dick Harris, Stewart Forsyth and Cecil). We had coffee and spent some time discussing our climbing ground. Eventually we decided on Tryfan, drove round to Uchaf in Stewart's lovely new 403, and walked up to Heather Terrace.
Stewart and I led through on Grooved Arête, while the others went up North Buttress. I had had Stewart described as not very experienced, but the speed at which he climbed! I had left my boots on Heather Terrace, so I didn't have to go up on my knees! It was a perfect, cloudless, sunny day, but there was a bitter wind, so I began to realise that better things would be out.
After the grooves, we went left to find the others, although I think we would have had time to finish our climb. We all re-assembled at the foot of Terrace Wall and Dick took Stewart and Cecil up the Variant, while Tim took me. We had discussed 'Cheek' to follow, but lost our enthusiasm with the coldness of the rocks, and the other three decided to go down to little Tryfan, while Stewart and I finished our climb.
Stewart did the next pitch, then I went up to the Haven and found a party in occupation at the Knights' Move. The second was a South African, with a lot to say. The leader retreated and Stewart led it. I took up a rope to the South African when it was my turn, and foolishly clipped it into Stewart's runner. When I reached Stewart he went on, and then the South African expected to pull back our rope, so that he could have a rope both sides of him.
Stewart had gone on, so I said he'd have to tie in the middle of his own rope. At the sling he was out of rope, so I had to tell him what to do in words of one syllable, and eventually he was across, but had left the sling behind! It was good to get moving again, and Stewart and I enjoyed the last pitch. I then descended North Gully, while Stewart went down the one further north, to collect his sling. We then hurried down to Little Tryfan.
Just before we reached the others, we heard "Help" shouted several times. I was afraid it was a party we'd seen start up Cheek, and we hurried up to the fence, when the others decided there was nothing we could do. Certainly the cries had stopped. We went down to the road and motored round to the Gwryd to drop Cecil and then to Nantlle to Stewart's cottage, where I met Jean and young Andrew. Jean had the meal on the go and then we sat and talked until bedtime.
Another perfect morning, but it was warm this time, and to think I had to leave. Tim got the morning tea, and washed up the supper things. We had breakfast and then Stewart drove Jean, Andrew and me to Caernarvon, Jean to meet her sister in Manchester, and I was on my way to the School Secretaries Associations' Meeting at Sheffield.
I had to change at Chester and Jean's brother-in-law offered me a lift to West Withington, from where a 19 bus took me to Fairfield for a wash and change of clothes and luggage before going on to Sheffield.
Sixteen of us caught the 1.50 bus to Colne, arriving at 3.30, where, without looking behind, the first off the bus meanly started running down the hill. Then there was a road up a very steep hill, and it was tracks all the way and I arrived at Trowden at 4.20, nearly dead. I had kept up with the first ones so far, but decided not to for the rest of the walk and on the next track uphill I got a little back in the line of people, but not very far, as I could hold my own a little better in the rough country we soon struck.
We went over moors, niggerheads underfoot, then there was a hail shower, reservoirs, mist (I hadn't time to get my impressions really sorted out). Then we dropped down to a road, followed it along in a fierce blizzard, which turned the countryside white, and then a halt in a pub before following tracks to Mankin Hole Youth Hostel, which we reached at 9.45, just after dark. A first rate meal, and then I stretched out on the floor to get as much rest as possible, until I found holes in my socks and begged a needle and wool and mended them.
At 11.40 we were off, up rough country by torchlight, but then a magnificent five miles along tracks by reservoirs. It was soft to the feet and yet we were making good time; it was just right for the night shift. The white house light was puzzling; it was so faint at first, that I thought it was a torch not far away, it fascinated me. Then across the road and over rough country, to crawl on all fours at times (my torch was so dim by this time too). The effect of all the torches going across the moors was most odd; we waited at times, miraculously the route finders found Windy Hill Radar Station, a Trig. point, cairns, a wall across a minor road and then a track went down to Marsden.
My light had just about finished so I was glad to see signs of day break, and then we reached a barn, where the brewing party (Jean and Vin) were at work. I just sat and let other people fill my mug. It was very draughty in the barn, and at 5 o'clock we left, and watched the sun creep down as we walked up the path by the reservoirs. I was making good time halfway and then the others seemed to pull away from me. There seemed no point in hurrying and I stopped to put elastoplast on my bleeding heel.
A shop by the Isle of Skye that was and then the most tedious stretch over Back Hill and down to Crowdon, for breakfast at the Rifle Range at 8.50. Everyone at the Rifle Range tried to send Jean and me upstairs for a wash, but we refused to move until we'd breakfasted. Only 18 miles to go, but would my feet last out? I wasn't tired, it was the sore places on my feet. I was longing to finish and decided to go on all the time I could crawl!
Over the station, up Stable Clough, and then with Jim and Bertha we nearly made the Groughless Crossing, but not quite. Then we followed the stakes to Bleaklow stones where we learned that the others had gone on to Grinah Stones, but we thought we'd gone far enough and descended the Alport, where, near the farm, the others caught us up.
It seemed a long track down from the farm, and then a little way up the road, and then 1200 ft. onto Kinder. It was on this part that I really found how fresh I was; I felt I could keep on for ever at my gentle pace (other people's paces were gentler by now too!). A few groughs to cross and we were going down to Edale where we waited for stragglers. Although it was sunny, there was a bitter wind, and I got very cold. And so to the Nag's Head at 5 o'clock (I reckoned we made Edale by 4.30; 50 miles in 25 hours). A pleasant two hours drinking tea by the fire and then the hobble to the station and so home (by taxi from Central Station).