In reply to Tom, UKC News Editor:
Dear Tom
My wife was cleaning out some cupboards last night and she came across some old Climber & Rambler magazines. Out of curiosity I had a look through them, and found a Letter to the Editor very interesting, which may show some light on things of the past. The letter was printed in December issue of 1966 and is as follows:
“ESK BUTTRESS
Sir – Now that I must regard myself, give or take a little, as a walking mountaineer of the type that Showell Styles sympathetically describes, I don’t expect the hard men to take much notice of what I say. All the same, Chris Bonington’s account in your October number of the events leading up to the first ascent of the Central Pillar of Esk Buttress leaves me with a noticeably unpleasant taste in my mouth.
Competition to be the first to crack an unsolved problem goes back as far as Whymper and Carrel on the Matterhorn, and indeed much farther. But, until recently this competition was in general governed by certain conventions, including a tradition of good manners, if the phrase doesn’t sound too old fashioned. If you knew that another party had been doing a lot of hard work on a new problem, and you left them alone to finish it off, some climbers might have regarded you as quixotic, even thirty or forty years ago. But some people did just this, and it wasn’t a bad tradition.
What you certainly didn’t do was sneak market intelligence about another party’s private plan from someone else, and then rush off and try to get in first. The history of the first climb on the West Buttress of Clogwyn du’r Arddu is an ancient but perhaps useful example. Our party, on four or five visits, had done a good deal of work on the route, and as various members of the part in different combinations, solved various bits, they exchange information with each other.
Meanwhile, not knowing we had been at work there, Fred Pigott’s Rucksack Club party had also started explorations on the route, and in the course of these were astonished to find a sling we had left behind. Again without knowing each other’s plans, both parties picked the same Whit Monday for a further attempt. We were slow in starting, and Piggot’s party were already on the climb as we approached the foot of it. They realised that we must be the people who had done most of the work on it before, and they traversed back off the climb and sat down and waited for us on the Eastern Terrace.
The upshot was, as the guide-book tells, that the Rucksack and Climbers’ Club parties combined for the first ascent, two first-class members of the latter party standing down, in order not to delay the combined rope too much. I don’t want to sound pompous, but I can’t help thinking there is a moral lurking somewhere in the story. Perhaps it is mutual truct and co-operation have played at least as big a part in the history of climbing as competition has. Certainly the record of mountain rescue, also pioneered by Fred Pigott. Seems to point the that way.
I doubt whether that other moral which Chris Bonington draws, “All’s fair in love, war and bagging new routes,” is as appropriate to climbing as it may be to certain kinds of big business. And perhaps not even to business, nor to love.
Bakewell, Derbyshire.
JACK LONGLAND
Incidentally, for the record, the Esk Buttress pioneers were Bower, Bridge and Linnell, and not Bowers, Bridges and Linnel, as Chris Bonington has it. All a long time ago, but no harm in getting it right.”
I wonder who was a gentleman in this tale.
Norrie