A Week-End At Buttermere

By W. E. Evans.

Are the “ outlying climbs ” of the Lake District neglected more than they deserve? Or am I and my climbing companions exceptional in our almost total ignorance of them? I knew that Troutdale Pinnacle was a delightful exercise to occupy a Saturday afternoon in Borrowdale, but a Gable-wet-Scafell-fine programme usually followed as a matter of course.

However, the discovery of the Western Buttress of Eagle Crag on a perfect day in early August, demanded a visit to Birkness Combe again, at the first opportunity. If the weather and the other climbs were at all comparable, the day was an assured success. I found J. amenable to persuasion, and his car capable of tackling the stiff pitch of Buttermere Hause, and so tea-time on Saturday saw us beside the lake. Nowhere in Cumberland, to my mind, do trees, water, and hill-sides come so well together as at Buttermere. That day showed bright gleams of sun and cloud shadows on mountains purple with heather—one in the catalogue of that country’s changing moods; who shall say which is the loveliest—February snows, June foliage, August’s purple, or the gold and russet of October?

We had decided not to stay at Hotel A, as it would probably cost us eighteen shillings apiece. So we went to Hotel B; but one has of course to pay for acquiring the state of mind after dinner that does not care if it rains all day to-morrow—“Fate cannot touch me ” and all that sort of thing,–and on Sunday evening each received fourpence change from a pound note. When, moreover, we discovered that our host was none other than that supposedly mythical person, who not only knew what Gladstone said in ’84, but really had climbed with C ….. P ….. in the cold snap of ’95, our delight was immense, and the utter annihilation of a senior treasury note forgotten.

Birkness Combe overlooks Buttermere from the ridge dividing the latter from Ennerdale, and is the first of the large combes reckoning from Scarth Gap towards Crummock Water. Its main feature is the impressive buttress of Eagle Crag, where the climbing is extremely steep and generally difficult. On the right of the combe, looking upwards, a number of buttresses form a broken line of rocks rising about 400 feet, almost to the summit of High Stile. Here the climbing is of all grades from moderate to severe, and a degree of exposure can be obtained which is not at all obvious from an examination of the rocks from below, for they seem generally laid back at an easy angle.

One hour and a half, says the guide-book, from Buttermere Village to the foot of Eagle Crag; and so it would be in any other month when there are no luscious beds of bilberries to seduce the earnest climber from his upward toil. However, much of the day remained before us when I informed J. that we were now at the foot of the Eastern Buttress, and that he was going to lead me up it. The rocks and ourselves were very wet, and not a little cold, so we found the first pitch interesting, the second difficult, and the third impossible. Thus a deadlock was reached above the second pitch, and we found it necessary to explore every avenue, for I firmly refused J.’s generous offer to allow me to lead the second pitch down. Our “ easy way off ” gave us an exciting hour on exceptionally steep grass and heather, where each of the few rocks that protuded was eagerly investigated as a possible abseiling point, but always without success. I have long admired J.’s pertinacity as a pot-holer, but never more than when he finally made the pitch “ go ” by excavating from a most unpromising garden of heather and earth, a capacious and unexpectedly sound hand-hold.

It was now time for tin-openers, and suitably fortified, we contemplated our next assault.

Bearing in mind the exhilarating exposure of the Western Buttress—there are places on it where one feels extraordinarily lonely—I felt that it was not the place for us in the strong, gusty wind which had risen, so we moved off towards the west side of the combe, Where the Harrow and Mitre Buttresses lead to the summit rocks. On the way, a large party attempting a sort of super-direct route up the Western Buttress claimed my attention. I did not think that they could make a way up, but lest the length of their rope, which was enormous, was a measure of their competence, I asked tactfully if they were making a new route. To which they replied that they didn’t know of any route, and was this Eagle Crag? I indicated the start of the climb, gave it a good character, and the party my blessing, and went on, not without an occasional glance behind to observe progress.

Now, the first pitch of the climb is a 30 foot wall, with good holds, but absolutely perpendicular, and at the top it is necessary to surmount a jammed block, which protrudes from the face ; although by test it is sound, it looks hideously unsafe. My astonishment was great to see the leader clutching the face of the block with both arms, both legs, together with such other portions of his anatomy as he could summon to his assistance—a situation which seemed to me to be fraught with the gravest possibilities. He eventually extricated himself from this interesting position, and brought up his second, who wisely assumed the lead. The entertainment was not yet complete, for the original leader, now following, climbed the remaining pitches trailing behind him no fewer than sixty feet of loose rope. We could only assume that he wished to make it harder, but if he hoped that the rope would jam, he was disappointed—and so were we.

After this, our own adventures were unexciting, but we made three or four hundred feet of nearly continuous and very enjoyable climbing, by taking the Harrow Buttress, which is pleasant without being difficult; then crossing the gully and bearing to the right, and up the Chockstone Ridge, which is more difficult and equally pleasant; and, finally, by bearing to the left at the top, reaching a ridge—the “Oxford and Cambridge ” climb—which we found too exposed and difficult to be taken direct on wet rocks and in a high wind. The easier alternative to the left has one pitch of sufficient severity to soothe a pride wounded by failure to surmount the arête.

If any be persuaded, like ourselves, to visit Birkness Combe, and afterwards walk along the ridge to High Crag and back to Red Pike, they will be rewarded—so it be fine—with views as magnificent as any that the higher peaks of the Lake District have to offer.