Preston Mountaineering Club

Newsletter extracts

Duddon Valley Meet - 11th/ 12th August 2007

Why us Lord?

by Mike and Laura Pringle

If this was a movie then there would be a deep gravelly voice saying things like

Wallowbarrow Crag, Duddon Valley,
The Lakes, Saturday, August the 11th 2007
The time (significant pause) 10:30 in the morning…

The camera would draw back to reveal our desperate heroes facing mighty chasms and awesome precipices, dripping evilly with slime and vegetation, great deeds being done, adversity conquered etc…

Well, we tried but I mean, Wallowbarrow, well c’mon, no its really friendly most of the time… and this is where the story really starts.

Let us slip back in time to the campsite at the farm across the valley. The climbers, for there are six at present, dined well on ample breakfasts and are discussing the plans for today. The good doctor and Kiwi Bill are heading off to Cornflake (VS) on a lower buttress while Mick and son Danny are heading to the main crag along with myself, Pam ‘the apprentice’ and wee Dave Hewitt. At this point Trevor Steele appears so we are now in ropes of two. But oh no, it doesn’t stop there, Young Tom Reid has brought two friends who haven’t really climbed outside, particularly in this country and so Dave takes one rope of three including Swiss vet number one and I take rope two with Swiss vet Number two. I now seem to be in the company of two young ladies so I’d better lapse into ‘at one with the mountains’ mode. Well I haven’t shaved so the stubble helps to lend some credibility.

Dave selects his route and we find ourselves on Wall and Corner, at V Diff not hard but a good warm-up. We are climbing up pleasant rock, sharing leads between me and the ‘apprentice’ when my attention was drawn to a singular absence of Duddon Valley. Where had it gone you may ask, and well, I’m glad you asked me that?

It had disappeared behind an advancing wall of rain that had been fiendishly lurking just out of sight until we were all high on the crag. Except of course for fast Mick and just as fast Danny who had just returned to terra firma. At least they closed up our sacks and hid kit for us, thanks for that.

It became wet in moments and the crag streamed with cold, cold water. The two girls were climbing in light clothing so it became imperative to get up and off as quickly as possible, that option being easier now than to abseil down and of course honour demands etc…

So I led up the last two pitches as we got colder and wetter but arrived safely at the top alongside wee Dave and party. No place to hang about though as the wind and rain was accelerating over the top. I imagine it would have been drier standing in a car wash. Ropes coiled, sort of, and down to the sacs where the rain stopped as quickly as it had come. Rivulets of water still glistened in the weak summer sun breaking through and nobody seemed inspired to risk another wetting. What other course is open to any proper climber at this point than to hasten to the nearest re-hydration centre for hot coffee and perhaps beer?

Strangely the good doctor was already there… again! He and Kiwi Bill had completed the excellent Cornflake in Wallowbarrow Gorge. It had been on Ian’s tick list for many years but with bird bans etc… Although somewhat greasy and poorly protected on pitch 2, Bill finished the third and final pitch before the rain arrived. Sadly, poor Ian had to complete the pitch in the monsoon… and friction moves in those conditions are no joke. He expected to take a short swing but somehow held it together to complete a fine route.

Meanwhile, in a land far away at the other side of the valley… gravelly voice etc…

Hang on a minute, let’s rewind to Friday afternoon.

The sun shone on this pleasant land and a feeling of well-being reigned. Myself & Mike had arrived just after a certain Mr Jones and Thomas at the campsite. The site manager had kindly placed us at the farthest flung corner of the campsite approximately two miles hike to the facilities on a fine knoll with grand views of the splendid valley. Suitably pitched and supping a cup of best cha, the Cottam tribe and Barton party arrived including Fliss, Tom with his pop-up tent. (doesn’t ‘pop’ down quite so easily. It is an amusing diversion to ask him for a demo…) and pal Jason. The good Doctor duly arrived along with the apprentice, Pam. Tom’s Swiss pals arrived and they kept coming like pilgrims (or was it like moths to a flame?) … wee Dave Hewitt, Lorna (and Fraser the dog of course), Liz P, Paul, Bill (who gets the award for the tiniest tent of the weekend) and prospective member Colin who gets the award for the most luxurious accommodation of the weekend) in his camper van which just about squeezed through the narrow gateway to the site…

Very quickly we had the PMC tented village (or was it a refugee camp?). Anyone remember Woodstock? Some ate in the pub and many came to drink beer in preparation for what promised to be a cracking weekend.

Saturday morning dawned a little grey and our ranks were further swelled by the ‘day visitors’ – Trevor Steele (sans Rachel who was busy trying to meet a publishing deadline on some deeply learned philosophy tome – yes such are the dizzying heights PMC reach today), Gordon, Pat & Martin. The climbers gathered and discussed knots before heading off en masse for a day’s sport (tee-hee!!). The remainder opted for my walk.

I wasn’t MC but the designated one had been unable to get there at the last minute and I was the only one who’d got round to planning a route out. Although grey it was pleasantly warm and the party set off in shorts & tee shirts towards the Walna Scar bound for Dow, the Old Man, Swirl How and Greyfriar returning via Seathwaite Tarn.  

The path up the Walna Scar on the Duddon side has been vastly improved and we were soon at the top of the pass looking forward to the ridge walking. However, the weather had a different plan for us. Very, very quickly it became quite cold and necessitated the addition of warmer garb before we could get to the top of Dow. The mist was swirling across the crags and our views of the Old Man were lost. Undaunted we scrambled to the summit and set off down to the col and then the rain came with a vengeance. In seconds everyone was diving into their sacks for full waterproofs, hats and gloves – some hopping about on one leg desperately trying to get their waterproof trousers on, reminded me of some ancient fertility dance.

Suitably attired for the conditions we pressed on. And so did the weather. Said rain was now horizontal and the temperature was definitely in the lower single figures by now. Fortunately the summit cairn on the Old Man wasn’t far away. At least we’d got Tom up there – he’d never been before. We huddled behind the wall and grabbed a bite. It’s amazing how the weather on the fells catches people out. One young lady arrived dressed in cotton hipster style jeans, smooth-soled white trainers and a bomber jacket – she looked frozen and miserable.

We grabbed a bite to eat and as stand-in MC I suggested to the gang that we carry on towards Swirl How and see if the weather improved and if not we could get down to Seathwaite Tarn at Levers Hause.  The weather didn’t improve; it got worse and the mist thicker making it very difficult to find the Hause – good job I’ve been here so many times before. However, I’ve never taken the path direct down to the tarn. On the map it shows it going straight down very steep ground – looking down into the void the mist made it look even steeper. So I apologised in advance in case I hadn’t located the right place… steep, loose, slippery and nasty but it went on for only 200-300 feet and we were on easy grassy ground in the coombe.. I was very pleased to be here as we were now sheltered from the cold wind.  The cloud cleared a little and we got a strange optical illusion – it looked as though Seathwaite Tarn was above us now?? It wasn’t of course but at least we could see our way now and it was a wet trudge back to the campsite where I found my tent had squatters playing scrabble. [ed: and much to Mike’s disgust, he didn’t win!]

Sheena had had a buggy outing with Sophie, Liz, Paul & Tony had given Thomas an airing and he’d worn them out. The climbers had been washed off the crags but all were safe and well.

A mighty group of twelve ate in the pub occupying most of the dining room and it was only on leaving that we realised that the rain was now torrential and it was pitch black outside and we had no torch. It would be impossible to find our way back to the site let along our tent. Jason the torch-bearer to the rescue – for some reason he was barefoot carrying his shoes (something about keeping them dry…) lighting our way and keeping the boggarts away. Back at camp everyone had battened down the hatches for the night and all was quiet.

It rained all night. Torrentially at times, ordinary rain at others. At 6am there was a short respite. Then it started again – ominous dripping noises could be heard from our porch. We were only using our continental base camp tent which isn’t designed for rain such as this. Around 8.00am it eased off and general scurrying about could be heard. I emerged to a grey wet day with low cloud all around and some soggy looking people except Colin in his camper van – with his side window open he did resemble a butty bar and several requests for bacon butties were submitted. The wetness had damped everyones’ enthusiasm and kit was still soaked from the previous day’s fun. The climbers looked forlorn as even Wallowbarrow had a cloud on it. No-one wanted to get wet again. So gradually the tented city was dismantled and everyone left. With several climbers departing for the delights of Kendal Wall.

We drove down to Newby Bridge and sought solace in the café there. The sun came out all around the coast but it was still gloomy and dark inland. And so ended the biggest meet of the year.

The attendees (apologies if anyone was missed):
Tony  & Thomas, Liz & Paul, Dave H & Lorna with Fraser, Fliss, Tom, Jason, Pam, Ian, Bill S, Mick C, Sheena with Danny & Sophie, the two Swiss friends Rachel & Raphael, Colin, Mike & Laura, Gordon, Trevor, Pat & Martin.