The route
Heather Wall is a popular single-pitch route at Froggatt Edge, a gritstone cliff on the east side of the English Peak District. I have no photographs, but there are plenty here. In the bizarre, wordy and misleading British grading scale Heather Wall rates HVD or "Hard Very Difficult", which means easy. Maybe 5.5 in YDS.
The context
I visited Froggatt on my first ever "proper" climbing trip in October 1978. By "proper", I mean that there were ropes and some other equipment in use and a couple of teachers from my school who were leading the routes ahead of us and providing various kinds of encouragement and (very) basic instruction. No harnesses - just ropes tied around the waist. And - shudder - body belays.
The properness was a contrast to the large volume of "improper" climbing I had been doing for several years previously. Throughout my childhood we spent every spring and summer holiday in Ireland, where my parents were renovating a stone cottage at a remote spot on the Atlantic coast. To keep myself entertained I scrambled endlessly around the surrounding area, a scraggly sheep-grazed peninsula with many small cliffs, rocky bays and little else. With the untroubled self-importance of a prepubescent boy I even penned little guidebooks to some of the rocks, for a potential audience of one. When he wasn't building, my dad and I would often hike the (then) trackless hills nearby, some of which are quite substantial.
So, well before 1978, I considered myself a climber (or a mountaineer - the distinction was blurry in those days) and had read earnest books like Chris Bonington's "Everest the Hard Way" and Joe Brown's "The Hard Years". The latter focuses quite a lot on the gritstone, where Joe was a significant pioneer, so on that first trip to Froggatt I was precociously able to identify some of the routes and burble on about their history. I have wondered since whether the teachers found that amusing or annoying?
The ascent
From the diary: "Quite hard, but classic."All I remember is that I didn't fall or need a tight rope on Heather Wall, and may even have enjoyed myself. Reaching holds seemed to be a problem on some of the other routes we tried that day (my teenage growth spurt was still a few years ahead). Heather Wall follows a continuous crack up two slabs split by a ledge. From all that reading I had a theoretical understanding of hand-jams, which may have helped.
Subsequent ascents
In Easter 1980 a school friend and I persuaded our parents to let us camp and climb unsupervised in the Peak for a week, during which we spent one day at Froggatt. By then I owned a climbing harness and a rack, of sorts. My largest pieces were two Chouinard Hexentrics, a useful #8 (child's hand size) and a vast cowbell #11 (larger than any child appendage). They were not chosen based on any logical criteria, just what the shop had in stock on the day that I bought them. From the diary: "I led Heather Wall very proficiently." This conflicts with my memory; I remember topping out the route somewhat pumped and scared, with the #8 placed far below, still clutching the #11 in one hand and unsuccessfully willing it to fit in the too-narrow crack.
Weirdly I still own those hexes, despite having all my climbing gear stolen twice: once from the back of a car in 1986 then again from my already-ex-girlfriend's backpack in Barcelona airport in 1992 (complicated story ...). I think that the reason is that I had retired them from regular use long before either incident so they were instead sitting safely in storage.
Finally, from the diary, October 1981: "Soloed Heather Wall." Also on a school trip. By then I was leading routes graded VS or "Very Severe" (5.7 or 5.8 in YDS) so climbing Heather Wall had become trivial but as far as I recall the teachers didn't actually condone soloing. I assume no-one was watching.
And another thing ...
Many conversations with north American climbers about UK climbing run something like this:
NA Climber: "You must have climbed on the grit?"
Me: "Yes, but there are lots of other types of rock in Britain."
NA Climber: "Oh." <looks puzzled ... changes subject>
I suppose it may seem unlikely that a small country could have any variety in its geology. After all, the Coast range of British Columbia, which could swallow Britain whole, is more or less one big lump of indented granite. But surely some of those Reel Rock segments, filmed at distinctly ungrit cliffs like Dyers Lookout or Dumbarton, would have changed perceptions by now? Apparently not. This topic will recur in future posts.
Heather Wall is a popular single-pitch route at Froggatt Edge, a gritstone cliff on the east side of the English Peak District. I have no photographs, but there are plenty here. In the bizarre, wordy and misleading British grading scale Heather Wall rates HVD or "Hard Very Difficult", which means easy. Maybe 5.5 in YDS.
The context
I visited Froggatt on my first ever "proper" climbing trip in October 1978. By "proper", I mean that there were ropes and some other equipment in use and a couple of teachers from my school who were leading the routes ahead of us and providing various kinds of encouragement and (very) basic instruction. No harnesses - just ropes tied around the waist. And - shudder - body belays.
The properness was a contrast to the large volume of "improper" climbing I had been doing for several years previously. Throughout my childhood we spent every spring and summer holiday in Ireland, where my parents were renovating a stone cottage at a remote spot on the Atlantic coast. To keep myself entertained I scrambled endlessly around the surrounding area, a scraggly sheep-grazed peninsula with many small cliffs, rocky bays and little else. With the untroubled self-importance of a prepubescent boy I even penned little guidebooks to some of the rocks, for a potential audience of one. When he wasn't building, my dad and I would often hike the (then) trackless hills nearby, some of which are quite substantial.
So, well before 1978, I considered myself a climber (or a mountaineer - the distinction was blurry in those days) and had read earnest books like Chris Bonington's "Everest the Hard Way" and Joe Brown's "The Hard Years". The latter focuses quite a lot on the gritstone, where Joe was a significant pioneer, so on that first trip to Froggatt I was precociously able to identify some of the routes and burble on about their history. I have wondered since whether the teachers found that amusing or annoying?
The ascent
From the diary: "Quite hard, but classic."All I remember is that I didn't fall or need a tight rope on Heather Wall, and may even have enjoyed myself. Reaching holds seemed to be a problem on some of the other routes we tried that day (my teenage growth spurt was still a few years ahead). Heather Wall follows a continuous crack up two slabs split by a ledge. From all that reading I had a theoretical understanding of hand-jams, which may have helped.
Subsequent ascents
In Easter 1980 a school friend and I persuaded our parents to let us camp and climb unsupervised in the Peak for a week, during which we spent one day at Froggatt. By then I owned a climbing harness and a rack, of sorts. My largest pieces were two Chouinard Hexentrics, a useful #8 (child's hand size) and a vast cowbell #11 (larger than any child appendage). They were not chosen based on any logical criteria, just what the shop had in stock on the day that I bought them. From the diary: "I led Heather Wall very proficiently." This conflicts with my memory; I remember topping out the route somewhat pumped and scared, with the #8 placed far below, still clutching the #11 in one hand and unsuccessfully willing it to fit in the too-narrow crack.
 |
| those vintage Chouinard hexentrics, #8 and #11 |
Finally, from the diary, October 1981: "Soloed Heather Wall." Also on a school trip. By then I was leading routes graded VS or "Very Severe" (5.7 or 5.8 in YDS) so climbing Heather Wall had become trivial but as far as I recall the teachers didn't actually condone soloing. I assume no-one was watching.
And another thing ...
Many conversations with north American climbers about UK climbing run something like this:
NA Climber: "You must have climbed on the grit?"
Me: "Yes, but there are lots of other types of rock in Britain."
NA Climber: "Oh." <looks puzzled ... changes subject>
I suppose it may seem unlikely that a small country could have any variety in its geology. After all, the Coast range of British Columbia, which could swallow Britain whole, is more or less one big lump of indented granite. But surely some of those Reel Rock segments, filmed at distinctly ungrit cliffs like Dyers Lookout or Dumbarton, would have changed perceptions by now? Apparently not. This topic will recur in future posts.
 |
| Messing around on grit, early 80s, de rigeur EB's and Helly Hansen fleece pants |
