Last of the Yorkshire Classics

Poor weather in the Lakes gave us a weekend in Yorkshire, a county that spreads most of the way across northern England but only contains 2 of Ken’s Classics. 

Almscliff Crag on a perfect Yorkshire summer day

Almscliff is squarely in the realm of another classic; BBC’s strangely successful Last of the Summer Wine and in parallel with the show, we arrived, 2 middle-aged blokes, to play about in the countryside, with a Yorkshire Dales backdrop. I hope we looked a bit more competent and less desperate to impress than the characters we recalled, but with the reputation that Parson’s Chimney has, competence and desperation may both come into question.

First impressions of the crag are beautiful but understated; a modest sized lump of castle-like rock, topping a small summit, with 360 views and climbs on all sides. 

With the temperature hitting 24C by 10am, we were drawn after our 2 minute walk-in to the shady side, which happens to have the classic on.

Choosing to warm up on a VD wide chimney, it threatened to spank me at the first hurdle, until I remembered to use a thing called “technique” that was going to come in handy later.

Parson’s Chimney - HS 4b

John throwing shapes on a perfectly awkward chimney

John then got straight onto (into) Parson’s chimney, which has something of a history of confounding decent climbers with it’s bizarre range of necessary movements and positions if any progress is to be made. But 3D climbing, bridging instead of being drawn in to the corner, these are John’s strengths, so the first cave/crack/roof bit was done with relative style.

At this point, another pair arrived nearby and one of them commented that he’d been avoiding the infamous route for 15 years, whilst happily racking up under Central Climb which is supposedly a grade harder. He hams up the route’s reputation further and not unfairly; the top half of the Parson’s Chimney requires a tentative stretch into back and foot technique, patience in accepting the mere inch-by-inch progress it offers and then, when you’re not sure whether to face right or left, inwards or outwards, bold reaches to jugs that deliver more than they promise from below.

A deserved classic with a feeling of the old-school about it, ticked off in as much style as can be expected when you’re using any body part you can put in contact with the rock for friction.

As a venue, we loved the relaxed vibe, plenty of climbers and boulderers, but also picnics, kids playing and dogs being walked. In the same way that the busyness of the climbing at Stanage draws you in, here we found the chilledness drew us in. It wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea though, we witnessed a chap who would outclimb us by miles in a wall baffled by the techniques required and unable to confidently try them out on the grit. 

Wherever I lay my bag is my home

Driving over to Ribblesdale, we decided that since the abandoned Lakes plan had required an evening walk-in to a high bivvy, we would do the same on Pen-y-Ghent, even though it probably wasn’t necessary. On seeing the campsite in Horton, wild-camping was by far the better option, the pub and village full of people celebrating their success at conquering the 2nd, 3rd and 8th highest peaks in Yorkshire in one day. We left the hustle behind and headed onto the hill to find a good spot, carrying water to avoid having to collect or camp near a source. This meant we could pretty much sleep on the summit, an absolute joy on a warm summer night.

Waking early but having slept ok (for a bivvy) we continued the chill vibe with coffee on the high slopes, sure we could recognise 90s electronic music riffs in the Skylark’s song.

Red Pencil Direct - HS 4b

From a distance, the gully looked unlikely, but stood at the top there is a straightforward descent to the base of the crag, which teeters with instability atop Pen-y-Ghent, like a castle that’s been under attack recently. It’s reputation is fair; much of the rock here feels loose and should be stepped on with caution, but the route itself was mostly(?!) solid, at least in comparison to pretty much anything else around it.

Red Pencil Direct, marvellous

The first few metres were the worst, with a bit of grassy choss to negotiate, but once established the climb offers an array of moves, a short layback to a mantel onto a ledge, a thin crack onto a plinth, bringing you under a roof. To share the experience, I took a stance here and offered John the lead to the finish, not realising there was only about 4 metres to go, although I’d used up all the cams in the plentiful protection options anyway. A little exposure to finish but it was soon over and we’re sat back on our grassy slope relaxing, satisfied with the day already. Although it is a high mountain (by UK definitions) crag, the Pennine landscape felt nowhere near as imposing as somewhere like Llanberis or in amongst the more jagged peaks of Scotland, yet the crag’s position on the side of the hill still gives you a good feeling of exposure from the off.

Walking out ahead of forecast thunderstorms gave us chance to take in Hull Pot, a fascinating limestone feature, and notice the lime / gritstone crag mix that was also evident in the way old buildings had been built using the best of both materials. Once again, seeing Classic Rock as a travel guide meant that although this was a long way to come for a single pitch of climbing, it had brought us to a stunning location full of other interest alongside.

Reflecting on Last of the Summer Wine’s premise of old folks reviving childlike playfulness we wondered how long we’ll be enjoying messing about on rock. Although we’re well over half way through the Classic Rock routes, the remaining list is long and daunting (and mostly in Scotland); maybe we’ll end up being the Compo and Foggy of the climbing world before we finish, though please don’t liken our wives to Nora Batty.