In reply to August West:
> The 1990 Borrowdale guide lists 13 routes (and 4 variations) at Quayfoot.
> Meshak VS 1973
> Shadrach VS 1970
> The Mound MVS 1969
> Quayfoot Buttress VD 1946
> Catafalque HVS 1976 (var. Loitering with Intent E4 1981)
> The Crypt Direct E1 1971 (var Original Finish HVS 1969) (var The In Between E1 1985)
> The Go Between E2 1981
> Brain Stain E4 1982
> Mandrake HVS 1964
> Aberration MVS 1965
> Irony HVS 1961
> The Creep HVS 1965
> The Girdle Traverse HVS 1969 (var Variation Finish E1 1969)
> I hope this helps.
> If you need any more details please ask.
Hi and thanks for at least replying. Irony or Aberration? Perhaps but they still dont feel right. I was so impressed with what I did-annd I was a middle grade climber- that I wrote a very short story later on- I ama writer, poetry and fiction. This is a vignette 300 words:
Hanging Out
“There's the slab.” The description fits — at a stretch of the imagination. No mention of the buttress to its left. Hey Ho! Dick ropes up, shoots off. Ten minutes later, hardly off the ground, he surrenders with a muffled curse. Uncharacteristic.
‟Mind if I take a quick look?” Curiosity runs riot. Quick becomes prolonged. Without doubt, it's a struggle but inch by inch I'm twenty feet higher. Competition is fair play.
Hard for V. Diff. A variant start? Must be huge holds up there. I can't make them out because it's kinda vertical. Stubbornness pushes me thirty feet higher. The crack in the corner runs out, though the slab on the right is supposed to have the line. Challenging work. What am I trying to prove?
Sun blushes. Stygian clouds cover the sky.
An ill fitting runner ― my only protection― flinches. Too high to leap from and the landing is ugly. Above, the surface is perpendicular. No line across the slab. No grip for rubbers. Purgatory comes to mind. I think of Pauline. Four children. The game turns into survival.
An irritating “You O.K?” penetrates the air.
I study geography in detail. A pebble. Rugosities. Diminutive undulations. Signs of wear? Hints of a traverse? Which foot first? What lies beyond? What is there left but hope?
“Climbing,” repeated a dozen times. Good for the psyche. Toes ache. Legs tremble. Oh, what the hell!
Pebble is a pinch grip, solid as grit. Nobbles. Pieces of quartz. What is it about crystals?
I soft shoe shuffle. I'm a fly on a wall. I'm steep sticky.
A strip of land appears. A runway? A five pence piece? A centime? PLEASE.
Curtain falls. The drama ends.
“Not as bad as it looks.” Relief fills the Albert Hall.
Perhaps rock fall changed or obliterated the route
A drawing would go up across and up to a ledge. Above was an overhanging section which we didn't do- we'd had enough excitement
thanks for your trouble
bernard lord