Number in series 70; Year of publication 1986 - Fell and Rock ...

184 WAY OUT WESTseverity it was of little account compared with what is done today, it filled ourimagination just as much and called for the same concentration andcommitment. On the day after the dinner, Bert Beck and I walked over to Pillar,climbing up the North West, down the West Wall, up the South West, anddown the New West. Down-climbing was considerably in vogue among those ofus who pursued the ideal of competent cragsmanship. At one stage we sought toclimb down as many routes as we climbed up. In the days of comparatively littledependence on rope technique this led to a useful increase in mobility on therocks and made retreat a more acceptable option. 'Going for it' was reallyagainst our climbing philosophy, and when as sometimes happened we took achance and got away with it, I for one would be troubled in conscience by it andbrood about it in the night with superstitious dread. I remember climbing oneday on Pillar in bad weather. We were descending the west side of the Rock inthe rain, and the West Face of Low Man, that unfriendly and slightly concavecrag rising out of a steep gully, gleamed wetly through the murk, its top lost inmist. Strung out towards the top were five climbers, with Joe Williams fromWhitehaven in the lead. They were on the West Wall Climb which has adifficult exit on the last pitch. Joe, within a few feet of easy ground, decided tocome down. His calm and methodical retreat, with such a large party, in everworseningconditions, commanded our admiration, as did his decision not to 'gofor it' on that last move.Long ropes of climbers were more common in those days. It maximised theleader's contribution. Once I was at the end of such a 'caravane' in an ascent ofStack Ghyll, and had time, while the leader was fighting it out ahead, to brewtea half way up, using water from the back of the Ghyll. But most of myclimbing was in a leading-through partnership with Jack Carswell which lastedseveral years. We were so used to each other's climbing that we seldom neededto communicate by word of mouth and we were embarrassed by people whoshouted to each other on crags.We climbed quite often in bad weather and since the current wisdom wasagainst impermeable fabrics for climbing we got wet. I remember one occasionwhen Bert Beck and I, at the end of a dry spell, were just approaching the top ofC Gully on the Screes when the weather broke. We finished in pouring rain,and, already so wet it did not matter, drove up Wasdale in Bert's open tourerwith the hood off, knowing that the comforts of Brackenclose were to hand. Therain settled in in earnest, and with the satisfaction of C Gully snatched in thenick of time we were quite resigned to the prospect of spending the rest of theweekend in the simple enjoyment of being under a sound roof with a good fire.But on Sunday morning the only other occupant of the hut asked us if we couldrecommend a suitable solo rock-climb for the day. Our advice was to read aclimbing book in front of the fire, but in spite of the fierce spattering of rain onthe windows he seemed determined to go out. Conscience smote us. After all hehad come all the way from London for this weekend. We offered to go with him,354