The 1911 Ascent of the Gardyloo Gully

by E. E. Roberts

The books tell us that the Gardyloo Gully of Ben Nevis was climbed by Geoffrey Hastings and Haskett-Smith in April, 1897, and again by Raeburn and Lawson in April, 1901. At the time of our blundering ascent we had the impression it had only been done by Raeburn.

Erik Addyman had climbed the Tower Ridge one summer, before he, R. F. Stobart and I camped at Achintee in Easter week, 1910. We all saw the marvellous winter north face of Ben Nevis for the first time when we did the Castle Ridge, and again on the superb day when we attacked the Tower Ridge, one of life’s great days. From 10 a.m. till 1.50 p.m. we cut our way up the snowy curves of the ridge to the foot of the Tower, sheeted in ice. Had we known more of it we might have forced part of the way to the east but could not possibly have climbed the sheer wall to the top.

To the west was more attractive, and in that marvellous situation Addyman tried all afternoon to work up an icy West Wall route. He would have succeeded perhaps but the brilliant sun loosened the veneer. Towards 4 p.m. our position was critical, and Douglas of the S.M.C. in clear view on the slope of Ben Nevis was quite sure we were in for a night out. Not at all, up went a piece of chip to Erik, it was rammed into a snow patch, and he climbed down safely. Then followed a masterly retreat down a steep snow slope to some extent under fire, right over all the pitches of Tower Gap chimney, right down to Corrie na Ciste, something it is good to look back on, the right decision at the right time. The snow was magnificent, just right for kicking, stable ladder for a long way before we could face out, and at 6 p.m. the finish was a little bergschrund. We were clean away.

Now I have another sort of story to tell. We did not see the face again that week and had an over-simplified idea of the Tower Gully next to the Tower Ridge, having seen only mist on the round of Corrie Lias over Cam Mor Dearg.

Next Easter, 1911, we were a party of eleven at the hospitable Waverley Hotel, in those days the only reasonable hotel in Fort William; its charges appear today fantastically low. But of course today everything by comparison is fantastic in Fort William,

what with motor transport, wars, and industrialism. At nine on the Saturday, a poor sort of day, eight left for the Tower Gully, Dorothy Payne (Mrs. Knappett), Erica Stevenson (Mrs. East), Payne, Raymond Bicknell, Addyman, Hazard, Walter Roberts and myself. With the exception of the great iceman Bicknell in place of Stobart it was the party of the Sunset Hole accident and rescue.

Well up on the pony track, it became clear it was not to be a good day; in fact the rain, once it began, went on for seven days and a half with only few intervals. A wonderfully accurate aneroid of mine graded only to 3,000 ft. never recovered from a low barometer trip to over 4,000. Still we pushed on in the usual three hours to where the hut now stands and into the clouds. However, we had never heard that there was any route-finding difficulty over the Tower Gully and ploughed on up the great wide snow slope to the left of the Douglas Boulder, the end of the Tower Ridge.

It was grand to be on the hills again with a little tit-bit ahead in the excavating of a tunnel under the cornice. Then something surprising met us; we ran into a big face of crag barring half the slope and throwing us to the left. We were in thick cloud, it had begun to snow and there was a steady flow of powder snow down the slopes; whether from the heavens above or blown by the wind from square miles around, the air was full of fine snow. Up we went till we were between two walls of rock which closed in till the place agreed not at all with our ideas of a wide Tower Gully and the slope had developed a deep channel down which raced a stream of powder snow of no great weight.

The truth dawned on us — we were well up the much more difficult Gardyloo, we ought to have cut up a slope which seemed to lead on to the Tower Ridge — the crag which threw us to the left was but a step in the Tower Gully. But none of us had seen a front view of the place and conditions were so bad we might have to turn and go home. So we were committed to the Gardyloo and went on three ropes.

Addyman, Hazard and I led up one narrow band of snow, crossing twice to the other side when forced through the deep channel filled with racing powder. It was amazing to see a man waist deep in it and yet not swept off his feet. At long last we saw the bed of the gully lift, and, high above, the loom of the great final wall and the cornice. Straight for the pitch which blocked the gully, hopeless to the left, but to the right against the wall was a chimney veneered with ice, and the snow had stopped. Afterwards it was generally agreed we ought to have retreated.

But there followed the second of three marvellous ice climbs in my experience, the first by Wright in Pikes Crag B Gully (Scafell). The third by Beetham on La Setta (Engadine) years later. Erik Addyman attacked the V chimney, fortunately not quite vertical and writes:

” It was possible to lean against the left wall and cut steps on the other side at an angle of about 20° so as to hold one into the chimney as well as to stand on. On the left wall small heel holds were cut for pushing up on. This continued for about 50 feet when a small neve ridge built parallel to the right wall was reached. Once astride this it was possible to bring up Hazard, Roberts, and Bicknell who remained astride the ridge for two hours hauling up the other four.”

We were fairly committed to it now, and, as soon as Dorothy Payne was up, there was a rope to spare. Also the snow began again. Addyman, I and Miss Payne roped up, traversed right out into the concave sweep of the gully, and cut up through the growing snow cover to where the cornice, not formidable, was least, but the wall just as high and vertical as elsewhere. Hurrah! slanting up to the left was a crack in the wall near its base, a regular cave bedding plane, and from the top it was obviously quite possible to tunnel up to the summit level of Ben Nevis. It was cold, cold, and we felt the wind as we had not done below. Lying flat in the crack it was calm and almost warm. We crawled up it as far as possible, then Erik began to cut at the roof. Presently, held in hard by the rope, he was able to sit on the edge and hack away at the snow while behind we pushed the stuff down the Gardyloo.

It was all right for us, but the others were having an awful time exposed to the storm. Climbing the chimney as we had done was impossible, some faced the wrong way under the flow of powder snow. First Miss Stevenson, then Payne were literally hauled up by Bicknell, and lastly my brother, who swore he had waited three hours before he began the struggle against the stream.

Meanwhile Addyman’s hole had become large enough for a man to work in crouching and he retired exhausted. “We feared holding up the others. I replaced him and was soon able to stand up. Now the ice axe could really do its work, first a slit was cut well into the wall, then the roof was attacked, every piece hitting one in the face, then a step was excavated ahead. Once on this a wild yell told that the pick had gone through the top, and another step meant that I was soon scrambling out on top, streaming with sweat. The two behind cleared the way, and the three of us were up in the gale, realising we had done the job rather too soon. An ice axe was rammed into the snow, the rope tied on and dropped to the leader on the traverse.

It was a pretty bad wait in the storm and drift. We put it in racing to and fro to the Observatory, and no doubt had to seek refuge in the slit from the wind. At this date and till after 1913 the tower entrance to the Observatory was still secure, and the inside just as it had been left, the floor then covered with clear ice. The first burglary was in 1912 and after 1913 the method must have become obvious. Some hooligans left the door open and decay was rapid.

At last to our joy we saw the sufferers rope up, Hazard lead out and grab our rope. At about 6.30 p.m. all were on top in a curious mood, disgust at having done the wrong climb, mutual blame for not having suggested turning back at the proper time, and a certain satisfaction that in spite of the initial error we had not misjudged the strength of the party. The cold had been severe, the girls suffered a good deal, and it was years before any of us ceased to regard the expedition as something to be half ashamed of.

Naturally we cleared out quick, but the last stretch along the pavements of Fort William was in the dusk. There is a reference in S.M.C.J. XI, page 299, but whether the Gardyloo Gully was repeated before the Macphee era, I don’t know. In 1926 Dr. and Mrs. Inglis Clarke and party spent the night before the opening in the hut, and the Doctor’s belief in its usefulness was confirmed when a man who had fallen from the Gardyloo pitch staggered in.