Harry Ironfield (President 1982—84) the FELL and ROCK JOURNAL
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Harry Ironfield (President 1982—84) THE FELL AND ROCK JOURNAL Edited by A.G. Cram VOLUME XXIV (1) No. 69 Published by THE FELL AND ROCK CLIMBING CLUB OF THE ENGLISH LAKE DISTRICT 1985 Editor A. G. Cram 23 Kingsley Avenue Adel Leeds 16 L ibrarian /Revie ws Mrs. M. J. Parker University Library Bailrigg Lancaster New Climbs D. Miller 31 Bosburn Drive Mellor Brook Blackburn Lancashire Obituary Notices R. Brotherton Silver Birch Fell Lane Penrith Cumbria The Editor would like to thank Jean Cram, Ron Kenyan, and Muriel and Bobby Files for their extra help, as well as all those who sent articles and photographs. CONTENTS Page Two Weeks in the West Mike Johnson 1 Langdale — a Day to Remember Peter Fleming 7 No Raised Hat Alan Phizacklea 11 The Tour of Mont Blanc W. A. Comstive 20 Celebrations at Saas Fee George Wat kins & A. B. Hargreaves 20 Ice Warriors Tony Green bank 27 Coledale Force, 1985 Bill Peascod 31 The Other Thirlmere Ron Kenyon 34 Homage on Great Gable A. Harry Griffin 41 Three Presidents 51 Annual Dinner 1983 A.H.H. 52 Early Scramblers on Scafell Muriel Files 53 Some Yesterdays F. H. F. Simpson 63 Beyond the Bob Graham Round Steve Parr 11 Coniston Copper Mines Rediscovered Peter Fleming 80 AnnualDinner 1984 J. W. 95 New Climbs and Notes Al Phizacklea & Ron Kenyon 96 In Memoriam 134 Reviews 147 The Library June Parker 168 Club Officers and Meets 169 © FELL AND ROCK CLIMBING CLUB PRINTED BY DUFFIELD PRINTERS, LEEDS TWO WEEKS IN THE WEST Mike Johnson "What you guys need is the Burgundy Sedan!' After five minutes of blandishments we gave up and relinquished our ordered and paid for cheap-but-adequate car and settled for the Burgundy Sedan (air conditioning and auto shift, only 1 Vi bucks a day more). Jet lagged, we struggled out into the San Francisco evening traffic jam and headed across the Bay Bridge (not as spectacular as the Golden Gate but three times longer) to Hayward and Highway 120, all the way to Yosemite. Learning is always a complex business, particularly when your mind is firmly stuck on Greenwich Mean Time but your body is in Western Standard Time. It took ten minutes to discover how to get petrol into the tank and 14 days to fail to discover how to turn off the interior light. The thing about the one way system round Yosemite is that if you go past your cliff, it's a long way round again. With this in mind we parked fully two miles from Manure Pile Buttress and ended up climbing Commissioner Buttress by mistake. This pleasant 5.9, which somehow fitted the description of Nutcracker on Manure Pile perfectly, provided our introduction to Yosemite and the first of many abseils. We finally found the car park 200 yards from Manure Pile Buttress and joined the friendly hordes. Manure Pile is the most accessible of the short buttresses, only 600 feet high, good for an evening climb! Nutcracker was an excellent climb, four good long pitches, layback, slabs and overhangs. As I approached a fine exposed stance I was greeted by a friendly Southern drawl of "Hi, y'all!' It was difficult to take the climbing seriously after that but we "topped out!' The next step after "topping out" is "rimming out" so the next day saw us climbing interminable scree towards Arrowhead arete, an obvious line which promised to be not too hard, but a classic. Some loose rock, tricky route finding and a superb exposed traverse led to a huge hanging flake suspended over a steeply shelving unclimbed wall, perhaps 800 feet high. This was followed by a knife-edged ridge and the top. The descent involved three 80 feet free abseils from enormous chockstones and a few anxious moments on gravel covered ledges. We enjoyed Glacier Point Apron but due to crowds and inexperience didn't actually finish any routes. We climbed several fine pitches including the first pitch of Coonyard. This involved slab climbing in which the only "holds" are colour changes in the rock. I developed a habit on Glacier Point which was to scare Frank again during the holiday. 1 contracted an unusual form of 2 TWO WEEKS IN THE WEST blindness in which I was unable to see the protection bolts even when I looked directly at them. I suppose this made the pitch seem longer and more difficult than it actually was. We have a lot to learn from the Americans. I watched a climber gazing at his rope lying on the ledge, a mass of knots and felt my blood pressure rising at the thought of it. He merely shook his head ruefully and murmured "Gee, I guess I gotta work at my coiling technique!' A rather lazy day made us keen to try harder so the Central Pillar of Frenzy was next on the list. The most popular way of doing this climb is to do just the first five pitches and then abseil back down. This seemed the soft option so we took it. The first pitch was a rather smooth chimney diedre which, because of the marble-like quality of the water-washed rock, felt insecure. This led to the crux. A step onto a belay on the face followed by steep face climbing up perfectly protected twin cracks to a beautiful exposed stance below a roof. After the fairly straightforward roof came a crack just too wide for any of my protection, extending 50 feet to the next stance. Although the climbing was straightforward jamming, the prospect of 100 ft. fall concentrated the mind wonderfully. Two more steep pitches led to our personal summit and we prepared, with some apprehension, to abseil back down. The bolts looked good with several new looking tapes tied between them. One felt that back in England all the tapes and probably the bolts too would have been confiscated by passing climbers. As I prepared to abseil Frank idly twisted at the nut holding the hanger on one of the bolts and managed to tighten it half an inch. This incident heightened our awareness of the capricious nature of fate. It was bound to happen, we knew it would happen, and it did. The abseil rope gently and unerringly dropped into the crack above the overhang, twisting itself malignly round the many feet of abandoned rope resting there. Eventually Frank climbed back, reclimbed the overhang, released the rope and fell off. Fortunately he had placed some protection just under the overhang so the incident merely added more spice to our already interesting day. After a day of rain spent exploring Fresno (makes Barnsley look like Sin City) and on the recommendation of every American climber we met, we decided to climb Half Dome by way of Snake Dyke. The problem with Half Dome is that it requires a long walk in and an even longer walk out. I wondered why, over the map of Little Yosemite, which is the approach to Half Dome, was superimposed a large cartoon of a bear, when on other parts of the map only small cartoon bears appeared. No, it wasn't that the adult Yosemite Buttress with Arrowhead Arete on the tar right and Lost Arrow Spire sunlit in the centre. M. A. Johnson bears lived in Little Yosemite and the cubs elsewhere; it was an area of frequent bear contact. As we rushed up the path in the pitch darkness next morning, this fact loomed rather large to both of us and there seemed to be rather a lot of unnecessarily loud chattering and flashing of torches. We wondered why we kept having to climb over ropes stretched across the path (thoughtless people these Rangers!) till we noticed a sign, 'PATH CLOSED, PRESCRIBED BURN! The penny didn't drop and we continued up the path arguing heatedly about the possible interpretations of this enigma. The walk up into Little Yosemite by way of a magnificently engineered path which cuts almost across the face of the Vernal Falls and then passes the Nevada Falls by way of zig zags as well made as the terraces of Machu Piccu, is one of the most beautiful walks 1 have ever made. In Little Yosemite we turned off the path over a shoulder and the backside of Half Dome came into view. It is an extraordinary piece of rock rather like the upper half of a great solid wheel sticking vertically upwards out of the ground, utterly bereft of any vegetation, with similar peaks stretching out to fill the horizon on all sides. We came down to earth with a bump as 4 TWO WEEKS IN THE WEST we noticed that clouds were descending and there had obviously been recent snow. At this time too, the meaning of the prescribed burning became clear as we saw quite plainly a pall of smoke on the opposite hillside. We dismissed the fire at this stage and turned our anxieties to the weather till I pointed out to Frank that the smoke neatly and almost obsessively covered a large section of the descent route and our anxieties returned to the forest fire. As is common in mountaineering circles, we managed to rationalise both these constraints by means of an argument that all climbers recognise — "It'll be all right" — and carried on across Lost Lake and up steep slabs to the foot of the South West Face. The climbing was delectable; initially balance and friction climbing for two pitches then up and across the foot of a quartz dyke which soared towards the summit for several pitches.