To climb or not to climb?
December late afternoon. Tenuously clinging to a single good hold on the flat top out, I try to do what I did the first time, raise my right foot high enough to smear the top of the rock and topple over the edge. Seven metres above a bouldering mat I know will be in trouble if I miss it and fall onto the rock platform. No-one knows I’m here. It’s cold and will be dark in less than an hour. My car is parked just off an unfrequented road near Hepburn. What the hell am I doing here?
Photo-opportunity Arete at Hepburn says it all. High but relatively easy, I had climbed it the first time enjoying the sequence of moves, making the high step at the top with ease. Why not set up the camera for the classic photograph? So I set off again and that is when I found myself marooned, miles away from any help facing the possibility of a bone-crushing fall and hyperthermia. For some reason I couldn’t repeat the rockover move. I had come too far round the arête. So I inched my way back and found another hold which I hadn’t noticed or needed before. Relief. Sitting on top I could savour the twilight tranquility with the Simonside Hills stretched out before me, the snow-draped domes of the Cheviots in the distance.
With some trepidation I have explored other unfrequented crags on my own, an hour or so from the road; Rylstone and Great Wolfrey in the Yorkshire Dales; Kay Nest and Boulby on the North Yorkshire Moors; Slieve Binnan in the Mourne Mountains. Some had phone signal, others didn’t. The consequences of an awkward fall could be serious. How to make it more safe to visit these places without losing the sense of adventure? And why go to these places on your own anyway?
There’s nothing like the thrill of exploring an off the beaten track crag. The seclusion of Smuggler’s Terrace beside the North Sea, accessed by rope down a steep wooded landslip; the cry of curlew and lapwing in the Pennines; wind-buffeted cottongrass on Simon’s Seat in the Dales. Each place tugs at the heart, making the long walk in and out worthwhile and those intervals between climbs even more precious especially for those who love and need solitude.
It takes time to find your way around and to choose the climbs which you can safely attempt. I have a simple rule of thumb, connected to three elements - the height, the landing and the top-out. If two of these are dodgy, I’ll back off, but if two of them are alright then it’s good to go. Of course it is essential to let someone know exactly where you are going, otherwise you might end up between a rock and hard place. Other factors include where the crux comes and the difficulty of the climb. Paul’s Arete at Slipstones for instance has a flat landing and a good top out which may justify climbing its 7 metres. Steve’s Wall to the right has the same grade, but a slight traverse and a difficult stretch near the top makes it a far more risky proposition.
The rewards of climbing in such places can outweigh the apprehension and the risk, the time and effort. I remember climbing two problems at Camp Hill on the North Yorkshire Moors, just above Great Fryup Dale (named after the goddess Freya, not the greasy spoon). The climbs were done in twenty minutes, but it took an hour to drive there and nearly an hour to walk in. Four hours for twenty minutes climbing? Well worth it.