Winter climbing days are often spectacularly memorable, but the minus of them at the time is that belaying is usually a cold business. Time seems to pass much more slowly on a belay than when you're on the sharp end, you're almost always in shadow and by definition it's below freezing. The obvious way of removing the problem is simply not to belay, just to solo, but in that case you're limited to the lower grades unless you're a far more talented/ballsy climber than I am. That still gives you an enormous set of possibilities to go at though. Most Grade I's are no harder technically than the sort of things you end up doing on the more rugged end of winter hillwalks, just in more spectacular and committing settings. Grade II feels more like climbing but any really tricky bits are generally short. Once things get to Grade III though I start to want a rope and a good belay, though I've soloed a reasonable number of II/III routes if I happened to meet them in good conditions and my head felt right.
One of the best winter trips I ever had was to the Lakes in February 2009. I had originally intended to just have a day on Helvellyn then carry on up to the Highlands, but conditions in the Lakes were so good that staying there made more sense. There was perfect neve almost down to the road, and apart from one afternoon and night of new snow the weather was perfect. The temperature only just rose above zero even at valley level so the fantastic conditions persisted all week, despite it being sunny. One evening I even had a second trip of the day up Blencathra by Hall's Fell ridge and down by Doddick Fell, snowy all the way and under a moon bright enough not to need a head torch. I didn't leave till 8.30 and was still down in time for a pint in the Horse and Farrier.
The best conditions were on the Helvellyn range, so on the first day I climbed Central Gully on Browncove Crags (Grade I), then descended Swirral Edge in billows of untracked powder snow to a frozen Red Tarn. The spindrift that had been blown out onto the ice had settled into swirly wave patterns, like a white Sahara, with the cliffs behind looking thoroughly plastered. Going back up Striding Edge was easy but felt properly alpine, with good neve making crampons essential for the steep section at the top. Surprisingly there was only one other person on it, although a big group were following my trench up Swirral.
The views from Helvellyn summit were of snowy peaks spreading in every direction, without a speck of green in sight. Off to the east High Street would have made a great ski tour, as would the Cross Fell Range. Surely there must have been people doing them, but there were no traces visible at that distance. I just wanted to stay high and an amble back over White Side and Raise seemed like a good plan. And it was.
Later in the week the snow line was higher but there was still good hard snow in a gully on Comb Crags above Wythburn, so this made a fun start, with axe and crampon territory not far above the road. Higher up I cut over the ridge and slanted down into Nethermost Cove on more rock hard snow. Lad Crag was in superb condition so I started up turfy steps that I later found out were the easy first half of a Grade V called Crazy Torque. From the snowfield at half height I climbed a lovely slanting groove at Grade II, with a teeteringly airy traverse out on to the crest just below the top. It was so much fun that after the obligatory visit to Helvellyn summit I went down into Ruthwaite Cove and did a route on Nethermost Crag. It wasn't anything that anybody had recorded but was excellent fun and I'm sure someone will have been there before.
Not far away I had another great day on St Sunday Crag and Fairfield. As I was based in Threlkeld it was easiest to come in from Dunmail Raise. Grizedale Tarn was solidly frozen, so there was no temptation to go in search of King Dunmail's crown 😁. Historical myth debunk: Dunmail (Domhnaill) was a real 10th Century King of Cumbria/Strathclyde but he wasn't killed there, he died on a pilgrimage to Rome in 975. Back in the modern day I traversed along below St Sunday Crag and climbed Y Gully via its right-hand fork, full of the perfect iron hard snow that I was getting spoiled by. If only all winter conditions were like this! Huge waterfalls of cloud now started pouring over from the west, clinging to the hill crests and producing magical effects. Fairfield virtually disappeared and Dollywaggon Pike was nearly eaten too.
It looked like the weather was about to break, but the cloud all disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. By the time I had slanted down into Sleet Cove the world was back to sun and shadows. A chimney line on the right-hand side of Black Buttress looked enticing so I started up that. There was an easing of angle halfway up which had accumulated lots of soft powder snow so I traversed out onto a turfy buttress on the right, returning to the chimney line as the snow hardened up again. The chimney emerged on top of Black Buttress proper and an easy mixed buttress led up to the summit plateau of Faifield. Hutaple Crag just to the north looked extremely impressive.
There wasn't enough time for another proper route, but I couldn't resist a detour over the summit of Seat Sandal on yet more splendid neve. While I had been over on the east side a swathe of low cloud had washed into the Grasmere valley, and beyond this the Coniston Fells still had the cloud waterfalls I had experienced earlier. I hung around enjoying the view until cold drove me back down to the pass.
The other obvious place to go for some easy climbing in the conditions was the north side of the Scafells, so I had a couple of days there too. The snow depth there was a lot less than in the east, but there was much more ice. Central and South-East Gullies on Great End are the easy classics, but both are above my soloing level so I did Cust's and Branch Gullies instead, the former with an approach up a very scenic Skew Gill with lots of small ice pitches.
I also did a route up the front of Broad Crag on a mixture of small icefalls and snowed up rock steps. There wasn't any real line but you could meander around taking in or avoiding obstacles as you fancied. I had done something similar once before after being caught out by early season snowfall in November. I hadn't had an ice axe with me so had climbed it using two sharp stones as ice/snow daggers. They wouldn't have stopped a slip but were handy for cutting steps and to some extent you could pull up on them. Later the same day I attempted to climb a heavily iced Broad Stand using them, cutting a ladder of steps up the crux, but when I got one of them jagged in over the top I didn't trust it enough to pull on it with all my weight. A fall would have been nasty so I retreated down my nice little ladder. Almost certainly a good plan.
Obviously even on a trip as good as this one there were hiccups. I had a surprisingly tricky ascent up an icy north flank of Clough Head in big winds as a storm approached, leading to a descent over White Pike in heavy snow. The combination of heavily-iced turf covered in new snow wasn't a healthy one and needed a lot of care. The next day I climbed Scandale Head Gill, normally a Grade 1 scramble, in heaps of new snow and collapsing ice pitches. The latter was surprisingly fun, as there was so much snow that you would have been pushed to hurt yourself whatever you fell off. A 'Soft Play Area' for climbers?
It's the days on Helvellyn, Fairfield and the Scafells that stick in my memory though – I certainly can't complain about five superb days out of seven for the Lakes in February!
Sunset, St John's in the Vale
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