A HAPPY NEW YEAR
By B. Nelstrop.
The birth of a new year is heralded with tradition, custom and celebration, the latter often turning an easy route home into a moderate severe.
Seeing the new year in on the summit of a mountain is not a custom of which I have heard, although the spirit of mountaineering is moving in the right direction for the formation of such a custom, there being a distinct tendency in this country for mountaineers to camp or bivouac on the summits of our highest mountains, where one experiences nature and its changing moods on a vast scale.
Jim Sherwood and myself first thought of the idea in 1937 and decided to ascend Snowdon by way of Crib Goch and Crib-y-Ddisgl on New Year’s Eve, to bivouac on the summit, and descend by way of Lliwedd on New Year’s Day.
New Year’s Eve came at last, and finishing work at 5.30 p.m., we were soon speeding along towards Snowdonia in the M.G. At 9.45 p.m. we had parked the car at Pen-y-pass, and with the aid of my electric caving light on my hat, torches and ice axes, Jim and myself were making our way steadily up towards the summit of Crib Goch. The old year was going out gracefully, the night being cold and fine. Oddly enough we found little difficulty in keeping to the path.
It was a curious sensation making the final steep ascent on to the narrow rock summit of Crib Goch at close on midnight. We could see nothing below and felt rather detached from the earth and very much alone as we carefully traversed the narrow Crib Goch ridge with a precipice on each side. At midnight Jim fished a bottle of wine out of his rucksack and we drank the new year in. We had crossed Crib Goch ridge, the night was frosty and clear and we felt in good spirits as we continued on our way along the somewhat broader ridge, with good firm snow under foot.
Imprints in the snow of a solitary climber wearing a hefty size in climbing boots suddenly attracted our attention. They had been recently made and went in the direction of the summit. Time now went slowly and after what seemed an eternity of climbing and scrambling, we reached the summit of Crib-y-Ddisgl; at 2.0 a.m. we were standing on the summit of Snowdon, enveloped in mist.
After a little searching, we found a bivouac a few yards below the summit, where we got into our sleeping bags and ate some food. A wine bottle again emerged, after which music from a mouth organ and song went out into the night. Then all was silent.
Unfortunately I omitted to take my boots to bed with me, and when we got up at eight a.m., they were frozen hard like clogs and were difficult to put on. It was still misty and cold, so losing no time we descended the snow-covered rocks towards the Lliwedd ridge. It was only on our way down from Lliwedd that we paused for our first snack that day.
In 1938 Jim Sherwood was unable to come, but fortunately Hugh Neave (Rucksack Club) and John Chadwick (Fell and Rock Club) wished to join in my escapade, and at 7.0 p.m. on December 31st, we were eating ham and eggs with coffee at a guest house between Bettws-y-Coed and Capel Curig called ” The Towers,” little knowing what we were in for.
As before, we left the car at Pen-y-pass and at 10.15 P-m-made our way up towards Crib Goch, this time taking my ” Itisa ” tent, sleeping bags, a primus cooking-stove, food and some spare clothes.
After plodding through patches of soft snow, we reached the summit of Crib Goch at 12.20 a.m. Although it had rained and there was some wind, I thought conditions were fairly favourable. However, after we had crossed Crib Goch, the wind gradually increased to gale force, with very dangerous gusts which, if they caught a man unawares were strong enough to knock him down. I remember being blown, side ways and just recovering my balance as I jumped off a small rock step. We kept to the sheltered or north side of the ridge as much as possible, but it was now raining and we were soaked.
When not very far from the summit of Crib-y-Ddisgl, we realised that it was hopeless to continue so we tried to find a way down on the sheltered side of the ridge overlooking Cwm Glas Mawr and eventually by the aid of dim torchlight found a shallow gully of steep grass covered with wet snow. We roped up and descended one at a time, glad to have our ice-axes, myself leading and Hugh coming down last. After descending a few hundred yards, we found a small sloping ledge, on which I pitched my tent, placing stones round the edge to make it secure. There was only room for one person at a time to undress inside the tent and get into his sleeping bag. However we were very glad to get to bed, where we tied ourselves to the rope, which we had secured to a bollard.
As the matches were wet, I being the cook was relieved of my duties and we were content to enjoy some wine and a good snack of excellent sandwiches which suddenly appeared out of Hugh’s rucksack.
New Year 1939 kept trying to snow. We decided that we had enough weight to carry without the wet tent, so we took the pole with us and abandoned it. While packing, someone knocked a tin of soup over. It shot down the gully, hit something, flew into the air and vanished over a precipice. Our route for Cwm Glas lay in that direction.
We roped up and continued carefully down, not wishing to imitate the tin of soup. On arriving at the precipice, imagine our relief when we found a ledge on which we could traverse across it to a slope on the left, which led down to Cwm Glas Mawr. Then we treked by a fairly direct and cross-country route, through more rain, back to Pen-y-pass.
New Year’s Eve in 1939 came on a Sunday, so we could start early and take our time. This time I was fortunate in having as my two companions, Hugh Neave and Jesse Wood, who had climbed together in the Alps. We all lived within half-a-dozen miles of Macclesfield, so Hugh called for us in his car and drove us along snow-covered roads to Pen-y-pass, where we arrived at 2.30 p.m. after having stopped on the way for another good meal at ” The Towers.”
At 3.30 carrying fairly heavy rucksacks, we made our way up the snow covered path towards Crib Goch. Having passed the ridge before it got really dark, we were soon steadily proceeding with torches suitably fixed to our beings, up the ridge towards Crib-y-Ddisgl.
Fresh tracks in the snow of someone wearing large climbing boots, similar to those seen two years before were again seen, going in the direction of Snowdon. After crossing Crib-y-Ddisgl, we arrived on Snowdon at 7.30 p.m. and pitched the tent to the south side of the cairn, on the summit plateau, placing stones round the edge instead of using tent pegs.
Hugh and Jesse were the caterers and I was the cook, Dinner was soon ready consisting of soup followed by excellent sandwiches and mince pies. As the chief liquid used was melted snow, the after dinner coffee had to be replaced with tea. We took a stroll round before going to bed and noted that the temperature was 26°F. It was fine and there was very little wind. The moon came out about ten.
After wriggling into our sleeping bags with our clothes on, we brought the bottles out and celebrated in the true festive spirit. Eventually we settled down for the night. I was not particularly warm and lay awake. The moon shone brightly and I noticed that Jesse who was next to me, was lying very still with his eyes open. As this made me feel rather uneasy, I spoke to him to make sure that he was still living, and was relieved when he answered me. At 5.30 a.m. the cook went on duty and was soon passing round mugs of hot tea. Not content with this he commenced on Maggi soups and made two varieties before the stove went out. Someone then found more sandwiches which we soon polished off.
We extricated ourselves from our sleeping bags at about seven a.m. and while waiting for the dawn, made a camera stand with ice-axes and set the camera ready to take a photograph of the party and the tent. Little did we realise that nature’s vast stage was set, to present us with a pageant wonderful beyond description, which was to hold us in its spell with awe and wonder. As light came we looked east, waiting for the sunrise. Down below in an unlit void lay Glaslyn like a splash of dull molten lead. Above and beyond was a sea of cloud to the horizon with the summits of the Carnedds and other mountains emerging like islands.
The sunrise was wonderful to behold. Beautiful and vivid changing colours of nearly every hue imaginable lit up the sky. To the north and west it was clear, and as it grew lighter, Anglesea came out like a map at our feet. Cwm Silin mountain showed up plainly to the west, as did the Rivals with the sea beyond. We thought we saw the faint outline of Irish mountains across the sea.
A strange sight suddenly held our attention in the direction of Lliwedd. The cloud which had been welling up to the south-east of and below the col between Snowdon and Lliwedd, now reached the edge, flowed over it and ran down the steep mountain side like a fluid, down into the cloudless amphitheatre inside the Snowdon Horseshoe.
Day being well on its way, we struck camp, packed up and started down over the mass of broken rocks covered with frozen snow towards Lliwedd. The sun shone brightly and in places so lit up the mist through which we passed that it was brilliantly white. We came through the top of the mist as we reached the summit of Lliwedd, but when we had descended the ridge for a short distance we suddenly saw to the left and below us that spectacular phenomenon called ” The Brocken Spectre.”
A small circular rainbow was projected on the mist, inside of which was a shadow image of the onlooker. If the onlooker moved his arm, the image which he saw moved its arm likewise, but no other member of the party saw the image move its arm, because each member saw only the image of himself. When the three of us stood close together, we saw a group of three images inside the circular rainbow—Whymper’s three crosses. The necessary conditions for the appearance of the spectre were perfect. The sun being low on one side, threw a long shadow of any one of us on to the mist on the other side.
Shortly afterwards, we were drinking cups of tea in the hotel at Pen-y-pass. Our adventure had already become a memory to be looked back upon with joy and inspiration,