A toast to Wainwright

A toast to Wainwright

Raising a glass on Haystacks
Lakes April bank holukc 117
Whilst pondering recently on my journey as a ‘mountain man’ two names came to mind. The first was Alfred Wainwright, a great inspiration to me in my fell walking noviciate. His books were so full of romance and passion that on my first acquaintance with them it became impossible for me not to go to the Lakeland fells and explore them for myself. The second name was Peter Machin. Peter and I spent a couple of years as close companions in the mountains and shared many wonderful and sometimes perverse adventures.  More often than not they comprised of long climbs and even longer walks usually taking in a sunset, sunrise or both, summer or winter and in all weathers.

However, as so often happens in life we took different paths and for the past few years we haven’t done too much with each other. I decided that it was high time we got back together for some classic Livesey/Machin action and while we were at it pay homage to the greatest of all Lakeland walkers, old A.W, a plan that Peter liked as much as I. And what better place than little Haystacks and Innominate Tarn where A.W’s ashes were scattered on his final outing? First though, before getting a little bit of grit in our boots tradition dictated that a climb would be not as much desirable as compulsory and I knew just the venue. Grey Crag, held aloft in Birkness Combe on the northern flank of High Stile is a lovely place to climb and after a quick rummage through the guide book we plumped to Suaviter, a reputedly fine three pitch severe on Grey Wall.
Lakes April bank hol 044
After a late start we parked up at Gatesgarth under an April sky of cloudless blue and made a dash for Birkness with not a care in the world. Things looked just right for our day out but upon reaching the combe a dark band of nastiness centred itself above us and threatened to thwart our plans. Phooey! At the foot of Suaviter two large rain drops splashed off my helmet; the game was up. Or was it? We waited a while and patience was its own reward for no more rain did fall and that pesky dark band fled the scene as promptly as it had arrived; game on.

I took the first pitch which though short-lived proved to be a tricky number involving a corner and traverse to a wall which delivered me to a comfortable stance where I found a good belay to bring up Mr Machin. Now then, the whole point of Suaviter is the second pitch though I felt no envy whilst watching Peter teeter out leftwards to a fine and exposed crack where protection is abundant if maybe not as effective as one might hope! It was clear he was enjoying himself and come my turn it was easy to see why. A more enjoyable pitch of delicate crack climbing I couldn’t remember with a finish on ‘doubtful blocks’ adding an extra frisson of doubt to the experience.
Lakes April bank hol 078

Lakes April bank hol 086
The third pitch led me up into the wind on an airy ridge punctuated with steep corners, the last of which I completed with a less than graceful walrus move, eliciting much merriment from my chuckling ropemate. In revenge I invited him up and gifted him a grotty chimney in order to both finish the climb and gain some amusement for myself. Above us lay the summit of High Stile and though a crag barred our way we soon found a scrambling route through it rather than walk around the obstacle such is our long held tradition of retaining ‘purity’ in our ascents. And thus our first ‘Wainwright’ summit was underfoot. Needless to say the view was quite something but tarry not did we for the sun was westering and we needed to get to Innominate Tarn before into the Irish Sea it sank.
Lakes April bank hol 047

Lakes April bank hol 090

Lakes April bank hol 102
A perambulation of rare quality followed all the way to High Crag, our second summit where far below Scarth Gap was seen in shadow and beyond which little Haystacks rose, aglow and somewhat distant. Time was a wasting so we got a wriggle on and ran over Seat and down to the gap before breathlessly racing the shadow up the hill. We needn’t have worried though, for when upon Haystack we finally stood that life giving orb of fire offered the day a short reprieve before it drew to a close forever.

On that rocky plinth we drank in not only a grandstand view of the Lakeland giants but a toast of Bowmore Double Wood to renewed friendship and mountains. Sensing a change we then scarpered down to Innominate Tarn where we enjoyed the last of the light and another toast, this time to Alfred Wainwright. Earlier in the day it would have been the haunt of hundreds of walkers but at this late hour it was deserted but for two humble pilgrims enjoying as A.W did, the peaceful magic of the tarn and its environs. It was in darkness that we descended wearily to the valley and we talked of the many times we had done so in the past, reminiscing on past adventures. Could we remember ever having a finer day out? The thing with Livesey/Machin outings is that our latest is always the best, and we still had two more days in Lakeland to go. It was good to be back.
Lakes April bank hol 110

Lakes April bank hol 127
Allow me conclude with a few words from the great man himself…

…”All I ask for, at the end, is a long last resting place by the side of Innominate Tarn, on Haystacks, where the water gently laps the gravely shore and the heather blooms and Pillar and Gable keep unfailing watch. A quiet place, a lonely place. I shall go to it, for the last time, and be carried: someone who knew me in life will take me and empty me out of a little box and leave me there alone.

And if you, dear reader, should get a bit of grit in your boot as you are crossing Haystacks in the years to come, please treat it with respect. It might be me”.
Lakes April bank hol 132

2 Responses to “A toast to Wainwright”


  1. 1 Peter Machin May 4, 2011 at 9:51 pm

    Very well written. I was trying to second guess where you would have started the story; nearly running out of diesel on the M6, or being 20p short of change for the car park at Gatesgarth perhaps, such was the nature of the tripwith all of its laughter and merriment. You have captured the warmest memories to perfection.

    I think Doublewood was the Balvenie malt. The Bowmore is ‘Darkest’.

  2. 2 terrybnd May 5, 2011 at 7:43 am

    Excellent! Well written. Enjoyed that.🙂

    And the pics you captured are wonderful – you’re making me miss the Lakes more and more now! Damn, I’ll have to find the time soon.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s





%d bloggers like this: