by Mary Peace

Big Al had forgotten to bring the tent and we would have to collect it on the way although this meant travelling fifteen miles in the wrong direction. As we managed to miss the correct turn off the motorway we did in fact travel thirty unnecessary miles on the southbound carriageway before we finally headed north, my ruffled equilibrium soothed by a generous helping of Alan’s smooth, mellow whisky. We arrived eventually at Wasdale, quickly donning duvets against the cool October air, and helped Pat to pitch the tent by torchlight. I snuggled down thankfully into my sleeping bag.

6.00 am - Feet thundered past the tent and I popped my head out to see Big Al’s figure disappearing across the field. Some members of our party were already on the move. The remaining six of us emerged rather more slowly and it was a considerable time later that we started up Black Sail Pass.

Arriving at the col, we took the climbers’ traverse across the shattered northern slopes of the mountain - our destination Pillar Rock. By 2.00 pm we were at the foot of New West , our chosen route, ready to climb. The rock reared up magnificently for 300 feet above a fearsome gully. I was impressed! It was very intimidating. Frankly, I was petrified. It was our very first long climb.

Our friends the early risers were already half way up their climb by this time. We watched them as we ate our sandwiches. By the time we were half way up our route, they were back at the foot of New West . They watched us until Pat, who was leading our rope of three, emerged at the top of the last and most difficult-looking pitch on the climb then Big Al shouted up:

“You got a bit off route there, Pat. You’ve just finished the crux pitch of Sodom ! And you haven’t finished when you reach the top. It’s quite a climb to get back down again.”

“You’ll be alright” he added. “You’ve got a rope!” and they set off back over the Pass to the comforts of the campsite and the Wasdale Head Hotel.

Sodom was VS. We were supposed to be climbing a V Diff! I was very much aware both of the fearsome gully 250 feet below and the impossible-looking pitch above. The fear which tingled through my veins was for me an entirely new experience.

There was hardly room to move on the tiny stance I was now sharing with Dick. Older and even less experienced than Pat and I, Dick was all sinew and guts - motivated completely by willpower.

“Try standing on my shoulder, Mary” he said.

With this difficult manoeuvre accomplished, I managed to launch myself into that strenuous VS chimney. My battles with the capping chock-stone are better not dwelt upon but eventually, and very thankfully, I found myself up there, actually on top of Pillar Rock.

What a magnificent place to be! About a quarter of an acre of rough rock to scramble over, surrounded on all sides by precipices. Lakeland peaks lay all around us and Ennerdale, filled with forestry-planted pine trees, stretched from the foot of our mountain as far as the eye could see. But by now the pale October sun was looking very low in the sky.

5.00 pm in October.

“How the hell do we get off this Rock?”

Dick and I walked round and round the perimeter looking for possibilities, whilst Pat manned the top of New West or was it Sodom ? ready to make contact with and offer help to those still below.It began to feel like evening.

Six members of another party arrived on top, having climbed up various routes. No-one knew the way down! Eventually, the leader of the other party discovered a route he could reverse. He threw down a rope and proceeded to see his party off. Just as he said “Good Luck” to me and disappeared over the edge, our last climber arrived at top of New West . Dusk. Lots of rope to control!

“Sorry - we must keep moving. We’ve got to get off this damn Rock.”

When we reached the bottom it was dark by the time we reached our sacks it was pitch black. Pat’s torch he was the only person who had one! enabled us to cross that frightful gully and traverse just a little way before reaching a tiny grassy shelf, where we decided it would be prudent to stop. - 10.30 pm All clothing donned but no clothing census taken: a mistake that. Four of the party were lying close together on a single exposure blanket. Pat and I occupied our only exposure bag.

Lights. Down there in the Ennerdale valley. Flashing lights and shouting - but who? We flashed back. Soon they went away again. They won’t come up to get us until morning, I thought, perhaps the others were managing to get some sleep. Everyone kept quiet another mistake, that.

I remember Pillar Rock looming in the darkness, quite near to us. It was like being surrounded by black velvet, not a flicker of light anywhere, just a vague paler shade of black in the sky over Scarth Gap. I remember the plastic of the exposure bag flapping round my face in the strong gusts of wind I remember being aware that we had slipped a little way down towards the edge of our grassy shelf where the mountain dropped away into the darkness and I remember everyone suddenly becoming alert and aware as the lights of vehicles appeared down below, streaming up the Ennerdale valley and coming to a halt at the end of the road. We could hear a dog barking. Six little lights formed a crocodile and started up the mountain. Cockermouth Rescue Team had arrived.

Our party now stirred itself. Two different members of the party took their turn in the exposure bag and we wrapped up a third in the blanket. It was at that point we discovered he was only wearing jeans! We nibbled Turkish Delight as we watched those torchlights moving up the mountain. I will never forget that sight, or the magnificent men who reached us some forty minutes later the hot sweet milkless tea they gave us what nectar! , the clothing, the bars of chocolate, the big alsatian dog and their radio call sign: “Poppopoppoff”.

“Okay, we’ve found all six of them. No-one hurt. Over.”

We each had a personal escort down, in spite of which Pat had a rather nasty fall. Near the bottom of the mountain the Warden from Black Sail Youth Hostel was waiting and as we walked the last half mile to the Hostel it started to rain. Eventually we found ourselves sipping hot soup in the Hostel and enjoying the friendly hospitality which the Warden provided. We were very glad not to be still out there on the mountain.

We had hardly finished breakfast next morning when our CMC escort arrived to see us safely back over the mountain pass to a reunion with our friends at Wasdale. Not abandoned to our fate after all!