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The public, when they think of mountaineers at all, regard them as a peculiar people. They seem so full of inconsistencies, that one can never be sure what to expect. The climbing fraternity is generally considered to be of Spartan mould and training, hence the uninitiated are surprised to notice that in the inevitable rucksack are to be found jams, fruits, acid drops, sardines, snaps, and other delicacies of the palate, and that, in fact, the mountaineer has a good eye for creature comforts. Then, again, should the layman watch the climber threading his way along some rugged crest, he notes that instead of leaping from pinnacle to pinnacle, as the popular fancy depicts him, his cat-like motions seem to indicate distrust and fear where the mere novice would hurry along with confidence. These peculiarities, however, as all readers of this Journal know, are simply the practical illustration that "he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day," and that in order to make climbing legitimate sport, one must nurture and take care of the body to the utmost. I see the Editor stealthily drawing forward his waste-paper basket with his left foot, as he wonders what all this has to do with Ben Nevis; but if he will only delay the holocaust for a little, I shall refer to one other peculiarity which, exemplified in myself, gave rise to these notes. It is said that Sinigaglia, well known for his book on the Dolomites, never walks to his mountain climbs if he can help it, but on horseback passes over the intervening ground, and reserves his whole energy for the business on hand. Wise man! Even in our own romantic town the tradition lingers that distinguished members of the S.M.C. have been known to drive in a cab from Princes Street, when on a climbing expedition to the Salisbury Crags.
It was while pondering on these matters, as I painfully toiled on various occasions from Fort-William up the bridle-path to our well-loved Ben, that the thought occurred to me that in the absence of a Club hut at the foot of the Tower Ridge, an excellent if not better substitute could be found in the hotel on the summit itself. The project, of course, could only be practicable after the 1st June, and one would therefore lose the grander effects of winter and spring, but as a compensation the rocks would be free from snow and the ridges practicable. The occasion on which these thoughts took final shape was on 17th May, the day before the Queen's Birthday, when a merry if not too confident party, J. G. Inglis, Rev. J. W. Inglis, my wife, and myself, started for Fort-William. Many were the weather prophecies offered, and finally the writer was nearly annihilated as he muttered for the twelfth time, "A deep depression is approaching from the Atlantic, with westerly to northwesterly winds and rain." It is strange how men dislike the truth, and so every one pointed to this and that patch of blue sky as conclusively proving the mendacity of the Meteorological Office. At 6.30 A.M., however, our faces bore a resigned look, which was quite justified, for as we drove to the foot of the mountain path, numerous wisps of cloud threatened to blot out the summits of Sgor a Mhaim and Stob Ban. By the time the half-way loch was reached, the writer was permitted to refer to the meteorological forecast without protest, and we had barely reached a friendly boulder below the Castle Ridge ere the sleety rain began to descend in good style. As the clouds hurried along we got fleeting glimpses of the North-East Buttress, heavily sheeted to the foot, and of the Castle Ridge, plentifully sprinkled with snow. Difficult rock-work being out of the question, the party made their way up the gully leading into the great Castle Corrie, with the cliffs of Carn Dearg on the left and the Castle Ridge on the right. Impressive views of the Castle through the driving snow challenged an attempt at a photograph, but despite an impromptu waterproof studio, no result was secured. As the rocks became more and more coated with snow, our first idea to ascend the Castle Ridge was set aside, and we decided rather to ascend one of the deep-cleft gullies that isolate the Castle on either hand.
The Tower Ridge of Ben Nevis from Carn Dearg (W. Inglis Clark)
Shortly after entering the Castle Corrie, we were puzzled by the very evident remains of an extensive avalanche, while rocky debris was liberally scattered on the snow. No probable source of this was apparent, but as the southern Castle gully seemed to be frequently swept by avalanches, we took to the northern one as being free from such unwelcome intrusions. We were just passing the foot of the Castle, where a formidable overhanging wall cuts it off from the lower rocks, when our attention was directed to Carn Dearg, where, high above, a huge avalanche of snow, corniced ice, and rocks fell about 200 feet into a basin, and rebounding over the great cliff, was precipitated with a loud roar on the rocks, 400 to 600 feet below. In particular, one mass of rock, possibly 6 to 8 feet cube, fell with a crash on to the scree, and sent a shower of stones far and wide in the direction of the track we had just traversed. We found no difficulty in ascending the northern gully till about one-third of the distance from the top, as the snow was in good condition and the angle not excessive. At this point, however, a huge jammed block forced the leader on to the steep wall on our right hand, where a short struggle ensued with snow covered and rounded holds. Eventually, the obstacle being surmounted, the remainder of the party were soon plodding upwards to the top of the gully, where they arrived cold and wet from the pitiless blast as it drove the snowflakes before it. Below the jammed block we looked down into the semi-bergschrund which yawned at our feet, and estimated the depth of the crevasse at not less than 15 to 20 feet. In the absence of snow, the passage of this point might prove very difficult indeed, unless better holds exist below the snow level than were available above.
After passing round the summit of the Castle, an inspection was made of the head of the southern gully, where heavy cornices had already fallen off or were in danger of doing so. Under the conditions, the snow scenery was grand in the extreme, but photography was impossible. A most fatiguing trudge in deep soft snow at length brought us to the welcome shelter and hospitality of the Observatory, and later on the party returned to Fort-William. Although at this date the roof of the Summit Hotel only showed slightly above the snow, the succeeding anti-cyclone rapidly laid it bare, so that by 5th June the Hotel was open to receive visitors. Some preliminary letters having established the identity of the Hotel proprietor with one of the genial observers, it was a sad trial of patience while necessary business prevented us from taking advantage of the brilliant weather and ascending to the top.
But fortune favours the brave, and when on Monday, 12th June, a wire from the Observatory announced "Atmosphere clear; warm; no prospect of change," my wife and I decided to start by the afternoon train and ascend that night. It was 10 P.M. ere we had disposed of our luggage in four rucksacks to be sent up on horseback next day. By the time we were sitting on the plank at the halfway hut, old Phoebus had long ago saluted Ben Slioch, said good-bye to Ben Loyal, and was hurrying past Shetland for his morning engagement about Ben Muich Dhui. The darkening night which held such secret shrouds over the silent valleys had been vanquished as we ascended into the clearer air, and with our more extended horizon, although the Mamore Forest and Glencoe brooded sullenly, we had companions enough, for Garsven of Ardgour, and the finger of Loch Eil pointing to Glen Finnan, and the peaks of Nevis and Hourn, were still tracing out the path of the sun, and zenith clouds faintly threw back the lurid light.
The night was warm, and the weight of a 20-lb. rucksack did not tend to minimise the temperature, while the spirits of the mountain seemed to be calling us to sleep, so that we hailed with no small gratitude the friendly light burning in the highest habitation in Britain. It was 1.20 A.M, and how weird it was to look over to the south, where all was black and gloomy. Then away to the north-east, perhaps about Inverness, where already a brilliant galaxy of yellow and red assured us of the dawn; and then in at the Observatory window, where faithful workers kept their hourly toil. It was all too glorious for sleep, and the hour passed quickly enough till 3 A.M., when the mighty sun, already for half an hour dallying with his night-cap, threw it off, and gazed on as glorious a scene as these islands can boast.
The Tower Ridge, from the summit of Ben Nevis (W. Inglis Clark)
Far down in the valleys tossed a sea of fleecy billows, called into existence by a short-lived northerly gale, and through this sea of clouds the mountain crests thrust their black rugged heads as if but half wakened by the morning sun. In vain did camera and focussing cloth attempt to depict the scene, for Boreas upset all arrangements, and called forth the choicest language that a scientific training enabled me to select. Enshrouded in flapping bed-clothes, with alpine rope and rucksacks to give ballast, we were compelled to see the kaleidoscope pass but half recorded, and the vasty spirits of the deep melt away in the clear light of morning. Our nocturnal journey and prowlings were but a bad preparation for serious rock-work, and so the day passed away in excursions to the Tower and other points of vantage. It is a common experience of climbers that when they revisit the scenes of former exploits they find the rocks changed for the better or the worse. Let the geologists, the philosophers, the cynics of the Club explain how it was that in 1896, when I crossed the gap on the Tower Ridge, I could have felt certain that it measured not less than 10 cubits long, with an average width of about 4 inches; while on this occasion I found that the Tower had bodily moved nearer the mountain, thereby reducing the gap to about 6 or 8 feet.
The Tower Ridge, Ben Nevis (W. Inglis Clark)
Wednesday, 14th, found us up with the lark, or at least with the snow-bunting, for the day had dawned when we were to attack the North-East Buttress, a long-cherished dream. All conditions were favourable, and the observer at 7 A.M. recorded a temperature of about 55º Fahr., so that it was with light hearts and a heavy photographic rucksack that we started down the eastern slope for the Carn Mor Dearg arete. The remains of some of the cornices still yielded a transient trickle under the rays of a hot sun, but there was no wind, and the stillness was unbroken, save for the distant murmur of the stream in the valley, and the growling of the screes beneath our feet. The North-East Buttress has already been so well described in the Journal, that it might seem unnecessary to refer further to it, the more so as I have no sensational adventures to describe. As Messrs Brown and Tough, however, tell of it in mist and storm and rain, so perhaps an account of it as we found it on an ideal June day may not come amiss.
This magnificent ridge of rock, the most easterly on Ben Nevis, presents from all points of view perhaps the grandest and most alluring sight in the whole mountain. As the great valley of Mhuillin is entered from the west, this buttress rises in stupendous precipices of apparently very sheer angle to the summit. Not only is the western face very steep, but the sky-line is broken up by pinnacle, tower, or overhanging cliff in a very attractive manner. If we descend from the summit of the Ben on to the Tower Ridge, the buttress still appears of enormous difficulty, and the rocks near the summit seem still more formidable. But perhaps the most impressive point of view is just opposite, on the slopes of Carn Mor Dearg, not too high up, but while the ridge still stands up like an isolated mountain, and is not yet merged in the overpowering massif behind. Here it appears as an isolated sharp cone, belted with rock, and near the summit seeming to be hedged round by a bristling set of slabby precipices. I had often passed by and looked at it with bated breath, for by all accounts it was only for the high priests of our sport. Yet now I actually proposed to attack it, aided and abetted only by my better half. I was the more encouraged to do this by the assurances of those who had climbed it, one of them having even dared to call it a "great impostor." Lest any one should rush in to accuse me of "slandering" these grand old rocks, I hasten to explain that it is only an impostor in looking more difficult than it is. As no one, however, has climbed it direct from the foot, and many points of the ridge are still regularly avoided, it has little cause to hide its head.
Although accessible by at least two gullies on the west face, it is more easily reached by the very prominent broken-up slope on the side approaching Corrie Lias. When covered with snow, this resembles a well-defined ledge sloping down gently to the left, and reaching the crest of the ridge near the point known as the first platform. So far the route is very simple, and is an easy scramble. Nor can it be said that after that point the rocks become difficult, even in the commonplace sense. There are corners to round and narrow ledges to pass, but save for the sensational steepness of the west face, these would not call for comment. For lovers of a view the first platform can be most highly recommended. From here the lower part of the Tower Ridge and the rock scenery of Carn Dearg are most imposing.
A little farther up the rocks rise precipitously and bar the way where a broad ledge leads round to the right. We, however, selected the steepish chimneys or stone-shoots sloping up towards the left, and after this for some time found the route capable of variation. Holding as much as possible to the right, but still on the left side of the arete, what a wilderness of fantastic rocks is presented to the climber - grotesque faces, sharp pinnacles, hollowed caves - but what especially delighted us were the beds of violet, saxifrage, and crassula, and the parsley and oak ferns, that nestled in their lovely freshness and charm in every sheltering spot. The blue sky with floating cumuli, the cool air, the overshadowing steepness of the buttress, the exquisite flowers, all reminded us of the Tyrol. The tinkling of the goat or cow bells was all alone absent from our surroundings. The rock is of excellent quality, and affords a secure grip to the hobnailers, so that the climb is in every sense charming. As we rise the views widen, but not of the Ben itself. Here the Easans show ghastly over Carn Mor Dearg, and through the col between the Aonachs. Aonach Beag, in the changing cloud light, presents gullies which contrast finely with its fresh green colouring, and farther south Binnein Mor and Beag stand up, proudly casting long shadows to the north-east. So far no difficulty was experienced, but at length a wall of rock was reached, which, crossing the ridge, runs along precipitously on the face of the cliff towards the Observatory. What did this correspond to in Brown and Tough's description, and how was it to be overcome? On the crest of the ridge it formed a sort of gendarme about 10 feet high, but almost vertical, and with practically no holds down below. To the right the rocks fall at an acute angle, and on the left the cliff affords uncertain holds.
The usual course, and the simplest, is to take advantage of a friendly back and mount straight up, when good holds will be found at the top of the wall and the obstacle passed. This, however, was not practicable. In this dilemma attention was turned to the right hand corner, where some have found it possible to circumvent the gendarme. As, this, however, looked rather awkward, a descent of about 10 feet was made to the right, where a narrow but easy ledge was found. From this a traverse was made to rocks somewhat resembling miniature Samson's Ribs, but at no acute angle; and after climbing up and crossing these, we reached a very steep chimney or corner corresponding in many ways to the 40-foot corner described by Brown, but apparently quite different. Here a new problem presented itself. We were on a secure platform, but the gulf below fell to an appalling depth, and the only evident course was to go up. Some nailmarks at the bottom indicated previous attempts, but no more were seen farther up, and some of the holds with undisturbed moss could hardly have been made use of before. A back was distinctly desirable, for the first comfortable holds are perhaps 7 or 8 feet up. However, as the rocks were dry and rough, pressure and friction grips proved useful, and soon the leader was standing about 30 feet up on a small ledge on the left wall (looking up), vainly endeavouring to raise himself on to the next ledge about the level of the shoulders.
Suffice to say, that a friendly crack affords pressure against the foot, and the body can be raised gradually to the higher position, whence good holds and convenient ledges lead to a position of safety. The rucksack being now brought up, the 60 feet rope was found just long enough to give moral and a little physical support to my wife, who, manipulating the holds in correct style, was not long in congratulating herself on being near the top and past all difficulty. Turning to the left, we again struck the ridge, and after some easy rocks, a few minutes' scrambling led us to the summit and conclusion of our climb. Under such conditions the N.E. Buttress presents the fairest face, and no average climber need hesitate to attack it, but a slight alteration in the weather would add 50 per cent to the difficulty, and under winter conditions it might be impossible to any. On the whole, I incline to place it first among the routes for moderate climbers who have a keen eye for the grand, the picturesque, and the romantic. While the Tower ridge undoubtedly offers the finest climbing, and the views on either hand are sublime, yet these views are practically confined to the Ben itself. For myself, I prefer the more extensive outlook obtained from its eastern neighbour.
The Castle Ridge and gullies, on the other hand, are composed of less satisfactory rock, and do not afford such good foothold, although, as I shall point out later, nowhere on the Ben, nor indeed in Scotland, have I witnessed finer rock scenery than that to be found in the Castle Corrie of Carn Dearg.
Our last sunset on the Ben was, I suppose, but a sample of what may meet the eye on clear evenings when the sun sinks to rest. If, however, I can but stimulate more of our members to take advantage of this elevated Hotel, a few words will not be wasted.
The view from the summit during our stay had never been phenomenally clear, nor could it be said that the brilliant light showed off the mountain to the best advantage. In the glaring sunlight precipices shrunk by many hundred feet, and cliffs eased off many degrees of steepness, so that the rocks seemed less forbidding, and new possible routes opened up in unexpected places. The absence of clouds and rain also robbed the mountain of much of its romance, and made me more than ever appreciate the saying, that "Scotland is like a Scotch pebble; it needs to be wet to disclose all its beauty." On the evening in question a disappointing haze obscured the view; but strange to say, while it obscured it, it also made the most distant peaks stand up equally distinct with the near ones. A change of wind to the south-east had settled a pall of cloud overhead, extending to the western shores of the mainland, but leaving the glowing Western Hebrides under an unclouded sky. As the sun was obscured behind this black pall somewhere to the north of Skye, the unaided eye traced without difficulty the seamy corries of the Coolins; while Mhadaidh, Alasdair, Sgurr nan Gillean, and even the Bhasteir Tooth were sharply depicted against a golden background.
Suddenly the eye rested on what seemed to be a rocket star far up in front of the black cloud, and as it slowly descended, it was difficult to realise that we were looking at the great orb through but a pin-hole in the cloud itself. As it sunk to the lower edge, a wonderful double corona appeared, which persisted till naught but a ruddy glow indicated the departing day. The disc of the sun was dark red, and could be gazed at without difficulty. For about three diameters a dusky red shot outwards. Beyond this was a dark ring, perhaps half a diameter in thickness, girt by a narrow circle of red, which again was surrounded by a dark cloud. Attention was divided between this wonderful phenomenon, the brilliance of the sea in front of Rum, and the startling colour of the rocks around us, which seemed actually to burn in the weird light. About half-past nine the last rim of the orb had sunk, but till midnight the red or yellow glow persisted in the higher reaches of our atmosphere.
Thursday, like its predecessors, was a brilliant day. The threatened change of the previous evening had expended itself during the night, and the general outlook was improved by the cumuli which prefaced the perfect blue of the sky. Making our way along Carn Dearg, we revisited the Castle Ridge, in order to correct the impressions obtained on the Queen's Birthday. The two gullies were still full of snow, but the cornices had practically disappeared, and the rocks were now dry. Our intention was to descend the Castle Ridge, strike the main gully below the fork, and cross over to the Carn Dearg Buttress, the better to photograph the Tower. The upper part of the Castle Ridge reminds one somewhat of the ridge of Bhasteir, but the rocks are decidedly slippery, and do not always afford sure foothold. Farther down progress was constantly delayed by the steep faces which occur on the ridge. From below it is much more easy to select the best route, but we frequently found ourselves trapped, and had to retrace our steps. Like the North-East Buttress, this ridge abounds in picturesque situations, while the violet and other wild flowers occur in great profusion. Ideal lunching spots occur at every turn, and at one place a little bed of blaeberries, now in flower, occupied a hollow under an overhanging rock, whence a thousand feet of precipice fell from our feet to the valley below.
The half has not been told of the delights of this route. From a climbing point of view it presents distinctly difficult situations, more especially if the climber carries 25 lbs. of baggage on his back; but it is generally possible to avoid the difficulties, and the grand outlook more than recompenses for the toil. In this Castle Corrie the leading feature is the Castle itself. Cut off on either hand by deep and gloomy gullies, it rises, more especially near the top, in horned and pinnacled precipices, which show finely against the sky. As seen from the Castle Ridge, about two-thirds up, with the snow-fields of Carn Dearg behind, and the vast buttresses falling in sheer or overhanging cliff to the left, it presents one of the sublimest rock spectacles in the British Isles. Unfortunately, when we descend to the fork of the gully, the Castle towers too high to be photographed; but on the other hand, Carn Dearg reveals pinnacles above its cliffs which can quite hold their own with Dolomite scenery. The photographer should, however, cross the avalanche screes to the corner of the Carn Dearg Buttress, and there ensconced at the foot of these stupendous walls, will behold the Castle and its compeers presenting a number of magnificent and bewildering scenic effects. Fortunately no difficulties need debar any one from visiting this spot, as the ascent from the valley is perfectly simple, short, and easy.
Leaving the Castle Ridge, and descending into the valley, now carpeted with flowers, we soon turned our backs on our favourite precipices, and returned to civilisation. A word should be said in commendation of the Summit Hotel to my fellow-members. The charges (previously arranged) were remarkably moderate, the food ample, fresh, and excellent, and our general comfort attended to in every way. The weather - aye, there's the rub - well, remember the proverbs, "The early bird gets the worm," and "Make hay while the sun shines."
N.B. - The sun shines most often between 1st and the 20th of June.
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