Category Archives: Sporting Recollections

Another Fell Running Experience

Sporting Recollections

A few months after the 4-Peaks race, I was in the Lake District reconnoitering routes up and down Helvellyn. I belonged to the Lancaster Rambling Association at the time and it was my turn to lead a group up a mountain of my choosing and I had chosen Helvellyn. Actually, I had to rece two routes; one for the young, strong walkers and another for the older, less able walkers. I had decided the strong walkers would actually climb Helvellyn while the less able would do a shorter, valley walk.

When I arrived at the start of the White Stones route, mentioned in an earlier piece, I was surprised to find it thronging with people. It so happened that another Fell race that was being sponsored by a well know brewery at the time, Friary Meux, was in full swing and climbing Helvellyn was on the menu. Friary Meux, a Guildford based brewery, finished making beer in 1969 but its name was revived in 2016 and it now sells it brand through various selected outlets. I had my dog with me at the time, an English Setter called Beannie, (more of her later) and after parking my car I set off.

The Fell runners were quite well spaced out so I knew I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way as I began climbing. I might add, it was a beautiful, sunny day and I was dressed for a gentle walk. I was in no hurry. I have no idea where the start of the race was but Helvellyn was obviously somewhere along the route. As I walked I noticed two fell runners about 100 metres ahead of me. It was also apparent that I was gradually catching them up. When I did eventually catch them, to my great surprise who should they be but the two fell runners I had met when doing the 4-Peaks race. They recognized me immediately. ‘Thank god it’s you,’ one of them said. We could see that the person behind was someone just out for an afternoon’s walk with his dog and we would never have been able to live with ourselves if a Sunday afternoon stroller had passed us on the way up Helvellyn.’ We had a little chat together and then parted. I’ve never seen them since.

A few weeks later, I arrived at Helvellyn with a coach load of walkers. I could have saved myself the effort of planning out a valley walk because everyone wanted to climb Helvellyn. It was going to be tricky looking out for such a wide variation of ability levels. Conditions were quite different from those of a few weeks earlier when I had done my rece and that day a thick mist shrouded the top of the mountain. For the first half an hour or so of the climb I wandered up and down between the fast walkers at the front and the stragglers at the back. Mike Hutchinson, the friend who had overtaken me in his running shoes in the last mile or so of the 4-Peaks race was a deputy leader and was keeping an eye on the fast walkers way up ahead. Indeed, by this time we were spread out over about a half a mile of the route and I was trying to encourage a group of younger stragglers to lift their pace. I can’t remember how the conversation went but I was challenged to be the first to the cairn at the summit where I had told Mike to wait until everyone had reached it. As I said, the leading walkers were easily half a mile ahead by this time and realizing the tail-enders were actually seasoned walkers and could be relied on not to do anything foolish, I accepted the challenge and set off. There were over forty walkers ahead including some who were very proficient on the hills but gradually, I pulled them all back until only Mike remained ahead. I actually caught him just as he arrived at the flat of the summit. The mist was thick as we walked/ ran towards where we thought the summit cairn might be. Suddenly, there it was. Unfortunately for me, it was on Mike’s side not mine and he reached it ahead of me with half a step to spare.

Helvellyn Summit on a good day

While we waited for the final member of the group to arrive, the straggling group who had challenged me also arrived. They wanted to know who had reached the cairn first. I told them Mike had. After waiting a further five minutes we were still minus one member of the group. I told everyone to stay put while a small group of us went to find the straggler. We knew who was missing and those who knew him better than I did remembered him being in the middle of the group so he shouldn’t have been the last to arrive. The top of Helvellyn is part of a quite dangerous ridge walk with sheer cliffs over which the unwary could fall. I was in an absolute funk by this time. I remembered the person who had gone missing when I had led a group to Spain years earlier. I could only pray this one had not come to any harm. He was nowhere to be seen so, either he had fallen over the edge or he had ignored the instruction I had given that everyone had to wait at the cairn. I opted to believe the more palatable option.

Striding Edge – just one of Helvellyn’s hidden dangers

We descended to the car park where our coach was waiting only to find the lost walker there already. After reaching the summit, he had seen a cairn but couldn’t see anyone next to it so he had assumed we had left him on the mountain. There are a few small cairns on the summit of Helvellyn but only one really large cairn where we had all gathered. In the mist he had not seen us but not being very bright had assumed we had all done the unforgivable thing of leaving him on the mountain to fend for himself. What can you say?

Bernard Gallivan

February 2019

The Height of Folly

Sporting Recollections

This is a cautionary tale. That I am still alive to tell the tale is down to good luck, nothing more.
When I was in the armed forces at RAF Shawbury, near Shrewsbury, two friends and I decided to travel across to Snowdonia on the weekend to do a spot of rock climbing. None of us what you would call an experienced rock climber but we borrowed the necessary equipment from friends and, full of confidence, set off. Our journey to Snowdonia was uneventful – in those days the roads were relatively free of traffic – and we arrived at our intended camp site before dark.
The next morning, after breakfast we set off to find our first challenge of the day. Snowdonia has been the preferred choice for mountaineers, rock climbers and scramblers for many years and, at the time of our adventure, many books had already been written about the many rock climbing routes that could be tried, together with the degree of difficulty of the climb. Unfortunately, being such innocents, we had consulted no such books prior to our climbing outing so we arrived at the faces not knowing what to expect. In fact, we were somewhat overwhelmed by the choices before us but eventually we settled on our first climb. It seemed to have many jug-handle holds and appeared quite easy. Nevertheless, no one was keen to be the first to attempt it but as I was the youngest and the one with least imagination, I volunteered. I should have been warned in the first six feet of the climb because what, from below appeared to be beautiful jug handles were, in fact, nasty downward sloping bits of rock that were quite unusable as holds. I should have gone back straight away but I was still a teenager and lacked imagination for what could go wrong so I continued up carrying the rope someone was holding at the bottom. The rope was supposed to be my safety backup. By belaying into crevices and attaching the rope to the belay, if I fell I would only fall twice the distance between the belays. Unfortunately, none of my belays were holding. It might have been the way my friend at the bottom was holding the rope that encouraged the belays to pull out or it might have been because I had not made them secure enough. Either way, I was now climbing free.
If anything, the climb was getting harder the higher up I went and on many occasions my toe holds were so precarious the nerves in my toes and lower legs were threatening to throw me off the face. By this time I was over sixty feet high and was beginning to get concerned that there would be insufficient rope to allow my companions to make the attempt. I also knew I had to keep going to the very top because retreating would now be impossible. After climbing about 90 vertical feet I eventually reached safety. Needless to say, even though they would have had the protection of the rope, neither of my two companions dared to attempt the climb.
When we returned to our RAF base, we consulted the catalogue of climbs and discovered that the one I had done was rated extremely severe. There are harder levels but extremely severe is still a very highly rated climb.
Without, doubt, I was extremely fortunate to have survived that climb. I was stupid to have attempted it which I put down to the stupidity and innocence of being a teenager. Every day on YouTube and You’ve been Framed we see teenagers doing ridiculously stupid and dangerous things. We see them come croppers but we never see the full aftermath. Be warned, the human body is a very fragile organ especially when falling almost 100 feet onto solid rock.

Bernard Gallivan August 2019