Lancashires finest, ICE
By Duncan Lee
For years now Mr Symons has reminded me of the delights of the “waterslides” at Ratten Clough in the Cliviger Gorge and has shown me the photographic evidence on numerous occasions; a picture of himself joyously hacking his way up the superb looking lower pitch, a beautiful looking slabby waterfall that I have never even seen close to being complete, despite several inspections. Twice over recent years I’ve had to settle for teetering up a thinly iced top pitch, but what can you expect from Lancashire ice climbing.
The prolonged cold spell last Christmas and New Year once again had me pondering possibilities. Surely if it was ever going to come into condition again this had to be the time, the most prolonged cold spell in years. A perusal of the Lancashire book of lies revealed further possibilities over on the “main crag” where “the resultant pitches rival those on such popular Lakeland crags as Helvellyn and Great End” when in condition. The pick of the bunch appeared to be “the large hanging icicle” which “when complete gives a testing grade IV problem.” More research pointed to the above words of wisdom being penned during the superb winters of 1985-86, but if you don’t go for a look you’ll never know.
As always Colin took no persuading at all, despite never having heard of the place and the omens were good. The thermometer in Colin’s car was reading minus 3 when we parked up at a civilised 10.30am. Sadly the 200-yard walk to the lower waterslide revealed a flowing waterfall with a thin crust of ice glistening either side, so once again I cursed Jim’s good luck all those years ago. Too long ago for the picture to have been photo shopped, but I do wonder.
The top waterslide, all of 10 minutes walk up the hill, was thankfully a very different proposition and was in the best condition that I had ever seen. No teetering up the left-hand side this time. The steeper right hand side of the icefall was good and thick, not having been top roped to death at that stage of the day, and thus providing us with 30 feet of grade III fun that was quickly soloed. Once on the rim of the moorland plateaux of Thieveley Pike we floundered our way through deep snow across to the main crag, stopping frequently to admire the views over to The Bridestones and Pendle Hill.
Safely negotiating a wire fence proved to be a tad trickysome in crampons but we were soon traversing the steep snow slope below the main crag, a series of broken buttresses serrated by gullies, in search of the “hanging icicle”. A feature that was blatantly clear as soon as we rounded the first corner and more to the point it had reached the floor so it was game on and my lead. A short vertical step led to a nice ledge below the main event, a significantly bigger vertical sheet of ice that even took a solid ice screw or two! A rarity in Britain let alone Lancashire. All I needed now was the nerve to proceed and that took some time to find as Colin can testify. In my defence it was nearly two years since I had been on the sharp end on a winter route.
Eventually though I quit the sanctuary of the ledge and gibbered upwards, bridging across a faint groove until I could step left onto a small ledge for a breather. After a battle to arrange sufficient protection to calm my nerves, and provide the encouragement that I needed, I pressed on whilst appreciating just how “testing” the whole experience was. Thankfully after about 40 feet the angle eased and pleasant snow led up to a bombproof belay at a rock outcrop and I could relax. Colin was more than glad to get the opportunity to move and to get the circulation going again. He followed the pitch considerably faster than I had led it but that wasn’t hard. As Colin was wracked with hot aches on the belay we chatted about the severity of Lancashire ice grades agreeing that the pitch was Scottish V in anyone’s money.
A rope length of easy grade I snow then led up to and across a terrace to the final steepening, but the top pitch was incomplete so we unroped and took the option of traversing off left along the terrace. Once around the corner another 30 feet pitch took our eye and looked like a pleasant way to solo back up to the edge of the moor. As is the way with such things it proved to be considerably more difficult than it looked (a move of IV) and caused us both to long for the security of the ropes that were in the rucksacks. Thankfully the angle soon eased and we were soon stood at the top of a 3 pitch quality ice route in Lancashire! How many times have I done the long weekend round trip to Scotland for less?
