The Climber's Voice: Festival Memories

Ed Drummond out on a limb at an early event:Photo Ian Smith
 
When David Craig and I started planning the first festival on our 1987 journey to climb on the sea cliffs of Anglesey in North Wales, we wanted to include some elements that remained central to the experience which I tried to provide at every festival over its 21 years of life. The celebration of new work was the original impulse and perhaps we can be forgiven if some of that new work was our own. Nobody else was going to arrange readings from David's now classic book Native Stones or my first collection of poetry, The Stone Spiral. Being climbers, we were imbued with the spirit of 'just do it!' In the event I only read one poem from my own collection as an introduction to inviting other poets in the audience to read a poem of their own. (Ten years later I could invite David to read from his new book Landmarks, although fear of cries of 'Foul' prevented my programming a reading from my own latest collection, The Rope, even though every poem was a climbing poem.)

We were also aware of the imminent return to England of Ed Drummond and rumours about a book being on the way from him (A Dream of White Horses), so we invited him to do his poetry reading performance whilst up the pole (actually three poles – a 40ft high tripod with a small platform at the top).

David Craig leading his partner's classic Dexter Wall.
Women's writing about climbing was even rarer in those days than it is now and we wanted to offer encouragement to it, so we invited Marjorie Mortimer to give us what turned out to be an amusing, mocking talk about what she called 'The Mine Is Bigger Than Yours' display in men's climbing writing. We have always had at least one woman speaking at the festival, and memorable contributions they have been, such as Jill Lawrence's feminist analysis of the climate of magazine publishing for women climbers followed by octogenarian Janet Adam Smith saying stridently: "Well, I've never experienced any drawbacks in being a woman." We could quite believe that this was true in Janet's case, if not for her argument in general. 

Another memorable combination was that of the late Alison Hargreaves and Alison Osius, Senior Editor at Climbing magazine (now with Rock & Ice) whilst visiting from the USA to talk about writing profiles of mountaineers. Alison Osius was actually writing what was to be the last interview profile of Alison Hargreaves, a tribute the festival was pleased to have made possible. 
We have always felt that the festival should be fun if climbers are giving up a whole Saturday to be talking about it instead of doing it. (This must have been the only festival in the world that prayed for rain.) At our first event Mike Mortimer gave us a quiz to test our knowledge of the literature. This was wittily devised and is published (with the answers, of course) in the book of the festival papers from the first five years, Orogenic Zones, published by Bretton Hall College.

The fourth festival featured a play devised by local school students using a specially erected climbing wall. For one festival, Rosie Smith and Celia Bull revived some of Tom Patey's songs and for another they wrote their own. Among the more bizarre ideas to inject a little fun into the festival was one that arose out of a pub conversation with the then young hotshot, Johnny Dawes, who had just sat his final exams at university and was enthusing about what a buzz they had been. So, when people ordered their tickets for the sixth festival they were invited to set an exam question for Dawes. At the opening of the festival he was given the exam paper of 14 questions from the audience and sent away to write an answer to one of them for a reading three hours later. He chose the question 'My First Time' and duly returned to carry off the reading of his paper with characteristic imagination, wit and flare.

Droll Wall Ascentionist: Climbing humourist Steve Ashton. Photo SA

On two occasions humorist, Steve Ashton, gave theatrical performances that took the audience by surprise. At the 10th festival he was a climber in a mental hospital in conversation with his therapist. This was both very funny and extremely moving at the same time. The fourth element of the first festival that became a cornerstone of our planning was controversy and debate. Dave Cook's lecture at the first festival threw out a challenge to mountaineering literature to be more inclusive (of women, young activists, climbers from minority ethnic groups, foreign literatures), more connected to climbers’ wider lives (as workers, lovers, and political, even musical, creatures) and more expressively experimental in form.

We regularly commissioned new poetry, from septuagenarian Guy Kirkus, the brother of Colin Kirkus, for example, and from the festival's popular discovery, the young feminist climbing poet, Kym Martindale. We also tried to commission new work from younger climbers. Fourteen-year old Chris Briggs, who read his poem 'Doomsville' at the fifth festival, held the record. At the 10th festival, bold young activist, Paul Pritchard, took the audience by storm with his writing about the Llanberis rock-climbing scene with the result that publisher Ken Wilson was not talking about if he was publishing Paul's book, but when he would be publishing Deep Play, which went on to win the Boardman Tasker Award the following year.
 
Debate was lively each year following the adjudication speech by the Chair of the Boardman Tasker judges. At that time this was the only public opportunity to hear this speech and to hear the winning writer read from his or her book following the press announcement at The Alpine Club in London. By the time the short-list had been announced opinions had formed about what ought to be the winner and views could be aired in the presence of the Boardman and Tasker families who were reminded annually of the seriousness with which this award was coveted by writers and publishers in the audience, to say nothing of the seriousness with which the bibliophiles in the audience held opinions about their reading of the entries. Of course, one ought to say that a specialist bookshop run by Jarvis Books of Matlock, did a good trade in providing books to be signed by writers present for the day. For Grant and Val, great supporters of the festival, Christmas always came early.

Finally, the international dimension, which was begun in a unique and topical manner by Waclaw Sonelski's lecture on 'Climbing in Poland Under Communism', produced a series of authoritative papers on the mountaineering literature of France from Anne Sauvy, and of Italy from Mirella Tenderini. Allen Steck gave us an insight into the secrets of keeping up the innovative standards of Ascent. (Much of this seemed to do with Ascent's having its own wine label.) Then, also from the USA, Mikel Vause (famously named by Maggie Body ‘Full Dome’) shared with us his PhD research into mountaineering literature, Of Men and Mountains, and Pete Sinclair, who explored for us his thinking about access to wilderness after writing his book, We Aspired, came back each year simply to sit in the audience because he had found the festival so much fun on his first visit. Singer and storyteller, Sid Marty, also travelled more than once from Canada to amuse the audience with his deadpan wit.

Despite the international stars who talked about their writings like Chris Bonington, Doug Scott, Stephen Venables, Kurt Diemberger, Paul Piana, Doug Robinson, Pat and Biaba Morrow, the show was often been stolen by the old-timers like Tom Weir from Scotland and Charlie Houston and Bob Bates from the USA, or the unexpected discoveries such as Irish storyteller Dermot Somers and retired Hodder and Stoughton editor, Maggie Body. Indeed, the unpredictability of the event was perhaps part of its charm. However, this should not suggest that the organisation itself was unpredictable. We prided ourselves on running an event where things happened on time and, with very little sponsorship income, on keeping ticket prices as low as possible.

 A number of people were stalwart supporters of the festival throughout the years. The late and hugely missed Paul Nunn, especially in the early days, lent our discussions his idiosyncratic wisdom and widely respected authority. Jim Curran was always on hand to debunk any pretensions or drop his papers on the floor and reshuffle them for his talk. Ian Smith annually rehearsed his very professional readings from the winners of the Festival/High magazine writing competition. In addition, late in the festival day we opened an exhibition of original mountain paintings as a break from the festival's intense pace. We were delighted to find that the festival could offer hospitality to passing luminaries, such as Harish Kapadia, Editor of The Himalayan Journal, so that they are able to honour the festival with their presence whilst they were attending events elsewhere in the UK. 

We found ourselves consulted in the setting up of similar mountain literature festivals in other countries, such as the Banff Mountain Festival in Canada and at Passy in France. New activities started springing up around the festival. A group of women climbing writers who met at the festival each year began running a weekend writing workshop prior to the festival. Their occasional publication, Women, Mountains, Words, is still appearing and four of those women have produced their own books at the last count. We were able, as a result of the generosity of the Paul Nunn Memorial Fund, to recruit from the USA one of Mikel Vause’s former students, Kaydee Summers, for the Paul Nunn Scholarship to begin a PhD student researching mountaineering literature

When Bretton Hall closed as a campus of Leeds University the festival was welcomed into the arms of the Kendal Mountain Film Festival but a one-day book festival could not find a satisfactory place within a weekend film festival and our traditional loyal audience, faced with too many choices at Kendal, faded away. Twenty one years of running an annual one-day festival seemed like a good time to retire from the job and the festival closed.

Better Red than Read:The late Dave Cook.Photo Ian Smith

Dave Cook's polemical lecture at that first festival had become our manifesto and a standard by which we could evaluate ourselves each year. Dave Cook concluded by quoting the Lake District poet Norman Nicholson with a quotation that is a useful reminder of why we continue writing and reading about our sport: 

Mountains should not serve as an escape from reality. They are surely an escape back to reality.

Terry Gifford: First published in Climber and republished by kind permission of the author.

Rusty Westmorland: King of the Wild Frontier

Rusty Westmorland standing by 'Westmorland's Cairn' built by his father and uncle above Wastwater.When he died his ashes were scattered here.

Horace ‘Rusty’ Westmorland was born in Penrith, Cumberland in 1886 into a family well known for their adventurous lifestyle. Indeed his father, aunt and uncle were noted for their un-roped ascent of Pillar Rock in 1873 which at the time was only the second ascent by a lady. The adventurous spirit which he had inherited, took him to the Alps in 1910 with the Abraham brothers and by 1911 he had moved on to Canada where he had secured a job as a chainman with a surveying party led by Arthur Wheeler. Not long after that, he joined the Canadian Army and rose to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel and it was in this period that he gained his nickname ‘Rusty’.

Back in Lakeland, in his middle years, an incident which saw him involved in the rescue of Wilfrid Noyce in 1946 became the inspiration for the founding of one of the UK’s very first mountain rescue teams. The Borrowdale MRT which later evolved into the Keswick MRT we know today. He was known and respected for his remarkable longevity in the world of mountain activities. Climbing and walking until well into his 90’s and his services to mountain rescue saw him receive an OBE.

What might not be known about this remarkable mountaineer, is the full extent of his climbing adventures which spanned over 90 years. Starting on his very first birthday when he and his 2 year old sister, were taken for an open air overnight bivvy by his parents, on Norfolk Island on Ullswater. Two weeks later, they were both taken to the summit of Helvellyn to attend the bonfire to celebrate Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee. On his 4th birthday, his father took him to Brougham Castle, where they both climbed up to the second story and back down again, without using a rope, and on his 15th birthday (1901), he climbed Pillar again with his sister and father, all un-roped. A daring feat for that time.

Rusty leading an unknown route.Probably in the Lake District

When his father died in 1909, Rusty became a man of private means so he was able to go out climbing almost every day.  During this freedom, he met and became close friends with George and Ashley Abraham, who he was to climb with on many occasions.

The year 1910, was for Rusty, the busiest climbing time he had had to date. It started in January climbing at Tryfan and Carreg Wasted with George and Ashley Abraham, where they climbed extensively before returning to the Lakes where he continued to climb until the end of February. In March with others, he made first ascent of Easter Crack on Elliptical Crag followed in April by a first ascent of Blizzard Chimney. With his cousins, he climbed more winter climbs on St. Sunday Crag; Fairfield; The Dodds; Dollywaggon Pike; and Catchedicam (Catstycam). In June he set off for the Alps with the Abraham brothers on a climbing photographic expedition. During their visit, they made many first ascents which became the basis for George’s book: ‘On Alpine Heights and British Crags’.

On returning to the lakes, Rusty continued to climb with his cousins making first ascents of Chock Gully on Dove Crag and a second ascent of Dollywaggon Gully. Possibly the first full true ascent in one climb.

In 1911, he went to Canada and secured work with a mountain survey party run by Arthur Wheeler, the founder of the Alpine Club of Canada. During his three years of working with Wheeler, Rusty climbed many peaks and summits in the Canadian Rockies along with Swiss guides such as Konrad Cain and the Fuez brothers. His list of ascents is impressive (some 1st and 2nd ascents)- many of which have still only seeing a handful of repeats- with well over sixty summits and peaks ascended in this period. He was also the first person to ascend the face of Mt Whyte through pure rock climbing.

He got a commission in the Territorial Army and following outbreak of WWI, he was commissioned in the Canadian Royal Transport Company. During his time at the front, he was nominated several times for mentions in dispatches for his bravery when he led his ammunition horse supply train under fire, to troops on the front line of both Ypres and the Somme.

He returned to Canada after the war, continued to serve with the Canadian Army and climbed and skied whenever possible. He was to discover climbing crags in Nova Scotia, was instrumental in discovering skiing venues in Quebec, and made significant climbing ascents in Vancouver and on Vancouver Island, some of which have been rarely repeated. In addition, he was a keen horseman and participated in many competitions in Halifax, Nova Scotia, winning several times in his class (heavy horse), and, he was also a good amateur golfer and all round skier.

In 1936, he went to the Alps with his close friend Dr. P. B. Finn (Director of Atlantic Fisheries), for two weeks and in that time, they climbed the Unttergabellahon, Riffelhorn (by three different routes), Rimpfischhorn, and then capped their holiday off with an ascent of the Matterhorn. When back in Cumberland, Gerald Greenback and others, had set up the Lake District Ski Club which Rusty was invited to be President of, which he remained connected to for the rest of his life. 

On his return to Canada, he made the first winter ascent of both East and West Lion outside Vancouver; made the first winter ski exploration of the entire Yoho Valley; discovered a crag called Eagle’s Nest and made first ascents of all routes in both summer and winter; wrote endless climbing and mountaineering articles for local newspapers; gave frequent illustrated talks on the subject, and, was fully involved in the mountain warfare training programme set up in the Rockies by the Alpine Club of Canada. This led to Rusty going on a clandestine visit to the War Office in London, which resulted in the Lovat Scouts being sent on the training programme, commanded by Frank Smythe.

With the onset of WWII, Rusty was given the go ahead from the Canadian Government, to set up and run the country’s first official military mountain warfare training camp at Terrace, east of Prince Rupert. Whilst travelling there on the train, he took seriously ill with biliary colic resulting in his gall bladder being removed. As a result, in 1945 he was medically discharged from the Army with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, returned to his beloved Cumberland, and settled down to his retirement in Keswick.

Never a one to allow any grass to grow beneath his feet, he was out on the fells and crags within days of arriving home.

A year later in 1946, he went to the aid of Wilfrid Noyce (Everest veteran) who had fractured his femur whilst out climbing on Great Gable. This event led to Rusty forming the Borrowdale Mountain Rescue Team which later changed its name to Keswick MRT. He was eventually awarded the O.B.E. for his services to mountain rescue, in addition to receiving the Silver Rope Award from the Alpine Club of Canada in 1947, being the only climber to do so that year.

Throughout his lifetime, he climbed and hiked the fells and hills of both the UK and Canada with many notable climbers; Haskett Smith, George Seatree, Norman Collie, Noel Odell, Bentley Beetham, Harry Griffin, Godfrey Solly, Tony Mason-Hornby (Ogwen Cottage), John Disley and many many others. In the 1960’s he suffered from stomach cancer – underwent 15 major operations – given a few weeks to live in 1964 – but was still climbing and walking in 1976 aged 90, without helmet, harness or other modern day climbing aids, and, wearing a full time catheter!

He published ‘Adventures in Climbing’ (1964), wrote articles for a variety of climbing journals, and, did the world’s first ever live radio outside broadcast whilst rock climbing with Stanley Williamson in Borrowdale- the broadcaster who was responsible for clearing Captain Thain of blame for the Manchester United Munich air disaster.

Rusty was a quiet unassuming person, preferring to be in the shadows of publicity. He took great interest in introducing many novices to rock climbing and skiing, and firmly believed in the adage, that climbers should not fall and as such, should learn to ascend and descend climbs in order to improve their climbing technique and abilities.

On 24th November 1984, Rusty finally succumbed to his illness and sadly, dementia, and passed away in a nursing home near Kirkby Stephen. A particular view from Great Gable, thought to be the finest in all Lakeland, was marked by his father and uncle by building a cairn in the 1830’s, now known as the Westmorland Cairn where Rusty's ashes were spread. He left an only son Horace Lyndhurst and an only grandson, Dickon who now lives in Australia.

Frank Grant:2015

Frank has written a comprehensive 400+ page biography of his subject and recently completed a biography of 'The Father of English Rock Climbing'WP Haskett-Smith. Both works will be published in the not too distant future. 

 

Steve McClure's Beyond Limits....reviewed

Photo-V-Publishing

There was something about the cover shot and caption which suggested that, as climbing autobiographies go, this wasn’t going to be a Journey After Dawn or Native Stones. " The author, entirely focused and without a hint of fear climbing the Very Big and the Very Small ..etc’. Hmmm..Self aggrandisement, ironic self deprecation or simply the publishers hype slotted in for effect?  At least it sets the reader up for what lies within and that is, a climbing memoir from someone who is firmly rooted in that exclusive club of top end English rock technicians. Those who studied their craft at the feet of Fawcett and Livesey et al, before going on to outstrip them on English and Welsh rock.

Steve’s autobiography begins in the time honoured manner of many north country climbers. Not quite tramping on’t moors wi mother’s washing line and dragging Fred up a slimy green crack but a path nevertheless,well trodden by our friends in the North. He did have one big advantage however,over a lot of climbers who find they have a natural talent in the field. That is, of having outdoor loving, rock climbing parents which has to give you a head start.Typically, Steve progresses apace and his ambition and boldness sees him exploring further and further afield from his north Yorkshire base.

One anecdote which sticks out from these early years is when he climbs a hard route on Cloggy. Setting out late in the day, he and his partner finish in the dark. After taking an age to get down from the top of the cliff they fail to find their rucksacks and decide to walk to Llanberis in the pitch dark and back up to their camp at the Cromlech boulders, still wearing their rock boots and still racked up. Next morning they walk back to Cloggy still in tight rock boots as they had no spare footwear. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it! I’m surprised he didn’t end up permanently hobbled like one of those Chinese peasant women in Wild Swans!

Unsurprisingly for someone pushing his limits, Steve’s steep learning curve sees him take a big fall which left him unconscious in a churning  Irish Sea while climbing at Pembroke. The Welsh sea cliffs being the venue for another serious accident when Steve eggs on a punter friend to tackle a route beyond his capabilities with almost fatal consequences. Happily said friend survives and remains a friend of his to this day.

The reader will not be surprised given the books' fairly parochial emphasis, that no one gets benighted on an Alpine face in a storm or falls into a crevasse. Patagonian citadels remain unvanquished and the greater Ranges remain over the hills and far away. Apart from the occasional bus-man’s holiday to warmer  climes, the dank limestone walls of Yorkshire and the beetling cliffs of the Celtic fringes remain the main arenas of activity. In this regard, this can be seen as both the strength and weakness of Steve’s book. A strength in that  it allows the reader to really get a flavour of the physical and mental stresses and attributes required to push the limits on native rock. A weakness in that without being able-as Martin Boysen could do in his recent Vertebrate autobiography- range far and wide across world mountaineering and climbing in all its varied forms, Steve has to keep the focus tight and fixed.

In particular, concentrating a lot of the writing on the technical nuances of a hard route. Describing in the tiniest detail, the moves on routes like Hubble, Overshadow, Batman and Northern Lights. You have to say though, that unless you are one of those climbers who operates in that rarefied stratosphere or are a total anorak who has devoured every article ever written about these rare climbs, then detailing the technical minutiae is interesting for sure, but then I guess that for 99% of those reading the book, you could mash up these passages and no one would by any the wiser. But then again, many would say that if you have climbed some of the hardest routes in the world then you are entitled to describe those experiences in the finest detail.

 

An interesting philosophical aspect of Steve’s book for me is that is rekindled some musings I had after listening to a classic radio programme about rock climbing in the early 1990’s. Interesting in that it firmly placed modern climbers into two distinct camps. The Classicists and the Romantics or if you prefer, the Cavaliers and the Roundheads. In this regard Steve is very much a modern day Roundhead who appears to echo Ben Moon-or was it Jerry Moffat’s ?- statement that ‘I’m not climbing to be in nice places, I’m climbing for the moves man!’ In the same programme, Ed Drummond-no slouch he of course on the rock face but very much with the romantics- lamented modern climbers ‘juvenile pursuit of numbers’.

In this, Steve appears to recognise those sentiments when in the latter stages of the book he finds himself wondering out loud whether he is still enjoying climbing as he once did or had it become a rather mechanical process with the sole aim of ratcheting up the numbers to keep the sponsors happy.  In this regard though, Steve still dutifully sings the praises of Fat Face, Marmot , 5-10 and the other enterprises who have used him to promote their products. As a pro climber with a wife and kids to support these days however, needs must if you operate at the cutting edge. A climber of Steve's calibre has a limited time at the top. As Paul Simon says in Boy in a Bubble- ‘Every generation throws a hero up the pop charts’. Steve’s autobiography is written from the perspective of someone who has been ‘thrown up the pop charts’ but in 2015, is no longer the new kid on the block. 

Rather an elder statesman in his mid forties. Steve’s generation placed between the 70’s and 80’s Godfather’s of Rock-Jockery and the current bright young things who grace the glossies are-or should we now say, were?- a supremely talented golden generation of rock athletes with Steve McClure very much at the heart of this select group. Beyond Limits is an honest and revealing work from the perspective of a supreme rock technician. It might be lacking in the romance and poetry which singles out the classic climbing book, but I’m sure even ‘Cavaliers’ will learn a great deal and find a lot to admire in Beyond Limits!

Krab-o-meter rating...

John Appleby:2015

Published and available direct from Vertebrate