We'd been working up to this climb since before 'walls of mist'. Some might say that it was a foolish thing to attempt. After all, only Mark out of the four of us had successfully led HVS in the last 6 years and I (being the strongest other leader) have a passionate hate of traverses. For those who don't know, this climb involves 1or 2 pitches of vertical climbing followed by 3 pitches of traverses. To add to the difficulty it was now officially (in my mind) winter.Mark was again working in Snowdonia for a period so we went down the night before and stayed in the cottage that he was renting. We awoke at 5am on the morning of 1 November and, in a break from the norm, had omelet, chips and beans from a tin for breakfast. We didn't know what the tides were doing, which is an important factor, especially as Ben was insistent that we did the entire climb from start to finish. We had also heard that the swell from the Holyhead ferry can cause climbers on the bottom ledge to get a drenching. So on the way Mark (who incidentally claims to believe that fleece jackets are too high tech for gear) asks his mobile phone what the tide times are and what time the ferries leave Holyhead. The phone reported that the tides were in our favour and I can't remember how the ferry would affect us.
I was really looking forward to this climb. I'd heard about it from Andy who had been saying for ages that we should do it some time. He'd shown me the excellent write up in Hard Rock and I knew we had to give it a try. I was pretty nervous too - I knew Mark could lead it but also that Andy wouldn't be able to lead it all. Malc would hopefully be able to second it but there was no question of him leading any of it. This meant that I would have to share a rope with Andy and try to lead the 4c pitches, leaving the 5a ones to him. I had pushed my grade to the point where I could lead most VS 4cs that I tried but there was no guarantee. We were all meant to have been in training for this climb but I knew that Andy and Malc hadn't. The question remained: were we good enough?
As the autumn wore on it began to look as if this question might never get an answer. We set a date in early October and I started checking tide and ferry times. (The ledge from which the climb starts is only a couple of feet above water at low tide and we'd heard a rumor that the wash from the ferry could sweep you off). With 10 days to go Andy decided he had to help Nicola move house that day instead. Mark was working weekdays which only left us weekends and Andy seemed to be busy on most of them. In fact I began to suspect deliberate sabotage by Andy when, after the 3rd time he was meant to have rang Mark to check his availability for a date, I found out he hadn't done so. By now it was late October and Andy started saying he might be able to make the last weekend. Then Malc decided to go walking in the Pyrenees for 2 weeks.
I have to admit that to do A Dream of White Horses was kind of my idea. I say kind of as I really didn't want to do it then (there is no way I was good enough) and was confident that it would be raining so we'd just end up doing a few easy routes on Holyhead mountain.
By now the days were getting a lot shorter and the weather was getting worse. Andy had started talking about doing it in Spring after a winter of intensive climbing on the wall. At this stage Mark and me decided we would do it on our own if the other two wouldn't commit to a date. The forecast was bad for the weekend we chose but Mark said he thought we might have a 'window of opportunity' on Saturday morning before the rain began again. Relying heavily on the Gulf Stream to warm and dry the rock over Friday night, we informed the others and by some miracle all four of us ended up at Marks house in Snowdonia that Friday night. It was the 1st of November and it was raining when we arrived. It was still raining at 5.30 the next morning when we set off in the car. As we drove towards Anglesey through the dark it was lashing off the windscreen and I was feeling gutted - we'd watched several fine weekends come and go over the last month or so while we waited for Andy and Malc, and today really was our last chance. Mark's phone insisted that it would be a bright dry day at Holyhead Mountain and also told us that the tide would be out that morning. It sounded too good to be true but we drove on anyway having nothing to lose.
I'd been there years before when I was 18 on a trip away with these two guys who I'd met in Swanage a couple of weeks before. While I'd been climbing for years, neither myself or my friends had any money to buy the equipment, so we'd always borrowed a rope and harnesses from the local scouts and used a couple of chocks that we'd found to set up top ropes. So I was off with these guys of indeterminate age and did a few routes in Snowdonia, led my first climb (a VS) and my second (an HVS) (as I said I'd been climbing for years so was technically quite good as well as being young and foolhardy). Then we headed off to do a climb called 'A Dream of White Horses'. To cut a long story short we were to climb in a three. I was not going to do any leading as this was very serious and they weren't very impressed with my gear placements the day before. One of the guys had had an ear infection so he wasn't going to do any leading and the third ended up abseiling down without tying a knot in the end of his rope, he very nearly fell off the end and killed himself. He prussicked up the rope a quivering wreck and declared that there was no way he was going to lead that climb. So off we went and it had been an obsession of mine ever since. While I've climbed at Gogarth a couple of times since, back in the days when I was easily competent enough to do it, I never have.
Well it turned out that Mark's phone had been right all along as when we got to Gogarth it was cold and windy but only a little bit damp. The place is fantastic. The total of my sea cliff experience was St Bees Head in Cumbria and it was incomparable. Huge white and grey cliffs dropped vertically down to a sea which I was pleased to see had no shortage of white horses. The incredible situation really sank in as we clambered around above the cliffs looking for the abseil point. Malcolm refused point blank to be the first to ab off. Part of me wanted to be the first but the rest of me was too intimidated by the exposure. Me, Mark and Andy played scissor paper stone to decide with the result that Mark went first. This picture shows him somewhere above the Wen Ledge, the bottom of the first abseil. The second one takes you down to sea level. There is the option of avoiding the abseil as the climb has an alternative start for when the tide is in, which you can scramble down to further along the cliff. Andy had suggested this at one point but it didn't seem to me to be in the spirit of the thing.
I went next. Andy showed me how to arrange a prussick loop to catch me if I let go which I'd never done before. This picture shows me trying to climb back to the top a few seconds later after getting it all caught up.
We abbed off, leaving most of our gear at the top. We wanted to be climbing as light as possible. We all made it safely down to the bottom of the first ab. I came down last and was greeted by Ben smiling and telling me that we were going down further. We ended up quite literally a couple of metres above the waves
Down on the Wen ledge Mark noticed that he'd neglected to double back the buckle on his harness. Good start. While Andy came down after us Mark and I tried to identify the ledge at the bottom of the climb. The rock steepens below this point making it hard to see the bottom of the climb. After a while we thought we'd identified it as a squareish rock platform which was getting submerged by waves every couple of minutes. We reckoned that the rock wouldn't be more than a foot underwater at any point so when Andy joined us we said we thought we should 'just go for it'. Andy took this to mean we should start climbing from where we were and agreed enthusiastically. He looked less pleased when he saw us setting up the next abseil and realised what we had meant. The submerged rock turned out not to be the ledge which was a little higher and out of site from the Wen ledge. The 4 of us could just about fit on it and it was high enough above the waves that we were only getting hit by spray. With the rough sea on one side and towering cliffs on the other it's the sort of place that gives you shivers of excitement just being there. Andy managed to take this photo of us on the ledge with one hand.
Mark set off followed by Malc. Ben had drawn the short straw of climbing with me as he felt more confident of his ability to do the route than Malc. I followed Malc up and had decided to use two ropes as the route seemed to go round the houses a bit. If you use two ropes you can reduce the drag. The first little gully was easy enough and filled me with confidence, then I successfully negotiated a tricky step round to the left (about where Mark is in the photo on the left). Then it got hard. Physically demanding, strenuous, vertical climbing over bulging rock, but it was well protected. I love this sort of climbing. Powerful climbing where it doesn't really matter if you fall as your gear will save you.
It was also extreme. The location. The waves crashing in, also the rock was so cold you couldn't feel how good the holds were after only a couple of minutes climbing.
I got to where Mark and Malc were and beamed with pride as Mark exclaimed how hard he found it and really thought I'd not be able to do it. The day would just go down hill from there.
After Mark and Malc had climbed out of sight up the wet rock Andy set off. Within minutes he was struggling and having to hang off his gear between moves. This did not bode well. Eventually he managed to climb out of site and I stood there for a long time on my own. Then the rope ran out. I'd been shouting up for a while but there was no way we could hear each other. I thought I might have felt 3 tugs on the rope - our prearranged signal for me to climb, but I wasn't sure. After another longish spell of time I saw a high speed ferry come round the edge of the cliffs and not wanting to get swept off the ledge I started climbing. I didn't know if Andy was belaying me or still climbing but I couldn't stay on that ledge forever. That first pitch was hard. I only just managed it and nearly called for a bit of help from the rope a couple of times. It was vertical and very strenuous and my hands were so cold they couldn't feel the rock. I would see a hold, think it looked good, then put my hand on it and watch to see if it stayed there. I couldn't tell whether or not my fingers were uncurling under the strain other than by sight. This is no way to climb and I was very impressed that Andy had managed to lead it. Suddenly it seemed that it might be my ability to second this route, rather than Andy's ability to lead it, that could let us down. I would say that this is the crux pitch although it could be that the cold gave me that impression.
I brought Ben up as Mark headed off up the second pitch. When Ben arrived I was boosted further as he exclaimed that there is no way he could have lead it. You see I know that Ben is a better climber than I am but his leading experience is so limited he hasn't the confidence to know it himself yet. I have always been aware that the more we climb even if neither of us get technically any better he will lead more, become more confident at that then overtake me as second to top dog in the club. But today was not that day. I was on top of my game, propelling myself further ahead.
Unfortunately what I hadn't realised was the physical battering that the first pitch had given me. The second pitch was a bit of a nightmare. Dick all gear placements. So here I was, physically tired after only one pitch, not sure of my capabilities and with little protection. I did what any self respecting climber would do. I cheated. I attached my shunt to the abseil rope that was fortunately next to me and climbed the climb using it as running protection. So I climbed the climb but did not lead it. To be fair I didn't give a toss. I wanted to do the climb and, well, if Ben had been a better climber this would have been his lead anyway, so I would have been seconding. I would not be able to claim to have led it but I really didn't care.
The pitch leading up from the Wen ledge was easier and more enjoyable but I had been concerned to see that Andy had attached a shunt to the ab rope which hung down along side it. I seconded up after him, starting to really enjoy myself and joined him at the start of the first pitch of traversing. This pitch is the crux and is pretty poorly protected. Andy managed to lead about 5 feet of it before giving up.
This is the end of the first pitch, with Ben coming up
Then the traversing started. Basically I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bring myself to move away from the safety of the stance with the white abseil rope and real safety dangling right in front of my eyes. If we left this stance then that was it, we were committed. There really was no escape. The picture to the left is of Mark at the end of this pitch with Malc not yet following. As you may have gathered (from other reports on this site) I get scared quite easily. Again, I was very tired and had no faith in my body's ability to continue much further. I really had to work on my stamina. Mark could do this climb, there was no question of that but for him to get out and rescue us someone would have to be able to follow him, at least to the start of the last pitch.
Malc is a quiet fellow and it is really hard to gauge his confidence and ability. When we are out you don't hear much above the noisy bravado of Mark and Ben and my complaining that whatever we are doing is too difficult or dangerous. He is also a bit lazy I think, he doesn't tend to lead if someone else would do it for him but as I say when traversing it can be as dangerous for the second as it is for the leader. Was he up to it? What if we ended up all spread out across the climb, none of us able to go any further?
And here I was, about to leave my only escape, a safe route out. Don't get me wrong, I was loving it. Look at the pictures above. It is a fantastic spot. Sitting there, perching, physically tired after doing my hardest leading in years, getting praise from my peers. But I'd had enough. I declared that I couldn't do it. I knew that Ben would have a go. He was intending to lead the next slightly easier pitch anyway. I hoped to god that he would not have the balls to do it and we could prussick up the abseil rope to safety.
Unfortunately I underestimated him. He didn't exactly breeze across the gap, I think he found it extremely nerve wracking but he made it. This meant that I had to follow. Follow I did. I was so glad I wasn't in front. It was a horrible traverse reminiscent of the stretchy bits of walls of mist. I had a sort of stab at the next lead, but I was broken again. Physically exhausted, and now Ben had done a lead that I had refused. I was now relegated to third best climber in the club (I'm not saying that either of us are better than Malc as I really have no idea of his ability). While still enjoying the aspect of the climb just sitting there attached to the rock, I wasn't into the climbing any more.
I could see Mark and Malc a pitch ahead of us and really didn’t want to give up now, especially as in my opinion we’d just got to the good climbing. I didn’t think I’d be able to lead it as it was the crux of an HVS 5a, and I was still occasionally getting beaten by VS 4cs. I thought I’d go as far as I could, and maybe watching me try might give Andy the impetus he needed, especially if I left some gear in for him. Andy and I had once ‘shared the lead’ of a fairly fierce VS 5a on Malham Cove in this way when both of us had failed on our own. Basically I was clutching at straws – we’d come all this way and I couldn’t bear to give up without trying everything.
Somehow I managed to lead this pitch. It wasn't even that hard. I guess it was just my kind of climbing: I like traverses, the rock was great and the climbing wasn't very strenuous. I would have liked a few more gear placements but you can't have everything. Andy struggled a bit on it, and didn't look happy about having left the safety of the ab rope behind, but as the next pitch was meant to be easier he set off to lead it. This time I don't think he even got 5 feet. We swapped over and I set off again. This pitch was technically easier but is long and sustained. By now we'd lost the warmth of the sun, and as I edged along the long and slightly rising line of flakes I began to feel quite alone. Andy was a long way behind me and I was very conscious that I had to lead the whole thing. I found this pitch quite mentally challenging and although I never worried that I couldn't do it I did lace it with gear. Generally in life I like to think that I'd rather risk dying young than have a boring life but at one point as I looked down at the sea and rocks 200 (?) ft below me I thought that I'd happily spend the rest of my life watching telly rather than fall to my death right then. I tried to view this just a moment of weakness and carried on.
I followed the line of flakes until it petered out and then tried to move across to the stance at the bottom of a chimney. This was really hard and there wasn't much gear. I had one friend in a crack quite a long way to my right. I don't trust friends at the best of times- I don't really understand them but I understood enough to know that this one was pretty marginal. Whatever I did I just couldn't get across this few feet of rock and I was getting quite scared. Mark and Malc had finished the climb by now and were watching us from safe ground and drinking gin and tonic. I was reduced to shouting across asking Malc how he'd got across that bit. He replied that he didn't think he had. This wasn't much help but luckily at this point 2 other climbers were coming up Concrete Chimney, an HVS which crossed our route near to where I was stuck. They told me that I was too high up. I thanked them, down climbed and made it across to the stance easily but a little shaken up.
I was now on the hanging stance shown here. The route goes up and left into the corner, and then traverses left further on the (apparently) easiest but most exposed bit of the climb. Ben set off while I sat in my harness from the hanging stance belaying him. In the meantime Mark picked his way across the final pitch. Ben went off route and took what must have been about an hour to finish this pitch. In the meantime I'd watched both Mark and then Malc finish the route. I was cold. I hadn't moved in an hour. IT WAS NOVEMBER FOR CHRISTS SAKE. I'd spent the last half hour in a foetal position hanging off a rock with my harness cutting into my legs. When he eventually finished the pitch and I followed it became apparent to me that I had to put my foot down.
There was no way I was going to finish the route. Anyone who has spent time climbing at a climbing wall will know the feeling of being too tired to hold on anymore and you end up climbing by wrapping your forearms over the holds. This is how I was climbing now when ever I could. As I've said I was cold. It was getting late. We probably had about an hour and a half of daylight left. I don't know if Ben could tell that I'd really had enough or if the experience of going off route and down climbing had shaken him up a bit too but he agreed without a fight and we asked a couple of guys who were going up An E1 in the corner if they could take a rope up for us to be brought up by our mates. They obliged and we finished the day off with G&T on the top.
Andy shot across to join me in no time. Well nearly. He got to my last bit of gear, about 10 ft from the stance and stopped. After hanging on the gear for a while he said that he couldn't face taking it out. I could tell from his voice that he meant it and so forced a false cheeryness into my voice and told him to leave it. It was only a nut and anyway it was his. No he said, you don't understand, I can't unclip from it. I was at a bit of a loss now. I'd just psyched myself up for leading the next pitch with some difficulty and this was eroding my already shaky resolve. Worse than that he'd got us stuck. Well he did finally unclip the rope and climb to the stance but when he said he wasn't up for the last pitch I could see that he meant it. I was almost relieved. Almost. Luckily the 2 climbers I mentioned earlier, the only 2 people we saw all day, were at this point climbing past us. They took up one end of one of our ropes with them allowing us to climb to safety with a top rope.
So I haven't climbed A Dream Of White Horses, maybe I'll do it next year. It was a top day though - and I led HVS 5a, something I've not managed since. We headed back to Mark's after a gin and tonic and were back in Leeds in time for a friend's party that night.
A 'Dream of White Horses' (I think you can only abbreviate it to 'dream' once you've completed it) had beaten me again. As I said earlier I'd been there to do it years before and it had been a bit of an obsession since. But now I really don't care. Been there, not done it but, hell, I hate traverses, why would I want to do it? There are plenty of wonderful climbs at Gogarth where you get the same exposure and atmosphere without the traverses. I may have another go in the future but I really don't care if I don't.
