THE invitation of a warm dry June could not easily be denied and so in preparation for the coming alpine season of 1952, four C.U.M.C. members decided to make the most of the occasion by spending an energetic training week in the Welsh hills. With George to follow the next day, Ted, Brian and I arrived at Ynys Ettws hut at about 4 p.m. one Monday evening – just time enough to complete three climbs in the Llanberis valley before nightfall. Brian, who had previously only led through on one VS. was put through his paces by first following "West Rib" on Dinas Mot, leading through The Nose Direct and finally leading "Brant " on Clogwyn y Grochan, with his second following up the unpleasantly fierce Direct Start.
With everyone apparently on form we set out eagerly the next morning for perhaps the greatest of all British cliffs – Clogwyn du’r Arddu.
For some time both Ted and I had been considering the possibility of forcing a route up the previously attempted, but still unclimbed, far west wall of Cloggy’s West Buttress. This smooth and overhanging portion of the Buttress was known both on account of its nature and its reddish colour, as Bloody Slab. A name as well as an adequate description of what was to be expected.
On our arrival at the foot of the cliff we moved up the screes and along to the obvious rake on the right with the intention of starting the climb at the far right of the slab proper. At this point the slab could actually be gained with ease from the rake without having to overcome the fierce overhangs characteristic of the base of Cloggy. From the far side of the rake we were able to examine the prospects of the first pitch. The results were not very encouraging. The slab was very smooth and, under the overhangs, nearly always damp. Added to this was the fact that most of the climbing would depend on pure friction owing to the apparent lack of any obvious holds. Those holds that we could see all sloped the wrong way because of the overlapping structure of the rock. On the whole a rather discouraging picture, but nevertheless still worth a try. I can remember thinking quite happily at the time – "Never say die till you’re dead!"
Within five minutes I had led off in rubbers at the end of 200 feet of Nylon medium bought by Ted for use in the Alps. With me I had – one piton (removed from Little Tryfan the previous Easter), a piton hammer and five nylon slings with karabiners. Starting at the far right of the slab, the first few feet across some large flakes went quite easily and a running belay was possible after about twenty feet. At this point the climb was leading diagonally upwards to the left, while the rake sloped down in the same direction, causing a vastly increased feeling of exposure as the climb progressed. Above the first runner the following fifteen feet showed increasing difficulty, until again a rather insecure runner was possible.
From here on the climb became quite thin and now it is difficult to recall how the next thirty feet were managed at all. At one stage the only means of moving up was by reaching at full stretch with the right hand to finger-jam in the bottom of a vertical crack about eighteen inches long and half an inch wide. By pulling up on this and then body-leaning to the left it was possible to swing up to the level of the top of the crack. At this critical point a quick call from an ever watchful second pointed to the only possible foothold about two feet away to the left. This allowed a moment’s respite in a more or less bridged position which, itself being very tiring and with the previous move being apparently impossible to reverse, left no alternative but to go on up. With the difficult move below and the uncertainty of what was still to come, life at this point seemed to depend more upon faith than friction.
Still, after the second runner, the slab was dry and tiny flakes allowed pleasantly delicate finger and toe climbing to lead to a somewhat doubtful flake behind which placement of the only piton manufactured .html runner. This was about seventy feet from the start and about a hundred feet from the rake directly below with still no possibility of a stance, belay or even a resting place. About fifteen feet above was the first large overhang in the middle of the slab and the third runner made for much more confident climbing up to the base of this. At this point the first real handhold of the climb was manufactured by extensive "gardening" in the crack immediately below the overhang. Here the general dampness and moss made rubbers both useless and dangerous, so they had to be removed quickly and tucked away in case they were necessary later on. The climb was continued in socks, and with the newly found "Thank God" hold, a stretch round the over- hang to the left enabled a small undercut handhold to be used by the left hand for a pull round the corner and up to a neat little ledge just to the left and above the bottom of the overhang.
After a rest here, on what was a reasonable stance, it became obvious that there were no belays in the vicinity. However, on the right along the side of the overhang an obvious layback crack of fifteen odd feet led to the possibility of a runner behind a rather shaky flake. On return to the ledge the route became only too obvious! The ledge itself was on the top of an overhang; there was an overhanging wall on the right; and directly above were what the guide-book terms "The obvious overhangs of Bloody Slab." The only way led diagonally upwards and across the smooth and exposed slab to the left. Fifteen feet. away to the left was a thin vertical grassy crack and between this and the ledge the only holds were very tiny vertical ribs: in effect the ideal place for a horizontal rappel! This was done by using the rope through the runner on the shaky flake which allowed a precarious crab-like movement to be made across into the grassy crack.
From this point on the upper slab proper it was possible to climb diagonally up to the left on tiny finger and toe holds with the occasional use of a clump of grass y owing in thin vertical cracks. At one stage when embracing such a strip of grass with hands and feet the top portion came away from the crack and started to peel off, rolling down from the top like a thin green carpet. With a seventy foot lead-out from the last runner – the shaky flake – the situation was critical and the piton hammer was rapidly brought into use to cut off the detached part of the clump before the whole thing rolled right off. Quick movement off the grass was of course quite impossible owing to the thin and delicate nature of the climb. On the upper portion of the slab there was no trace of any real hold so all movements had to be carefully studied in order to maintain three good points of contact with the rock while looking for, or making, the next move.
Shifting carefully off the grass, movement could again be made diagonally upward to the left on very tiny rugosities until .html large loose flake was reached. This appeared to be resting on a useful little ledge, so, bridged on very small toe holds, it proved quite a surprise when a tentative pull removed the whole issue – all twenty odd pounds of it! This presented an awkward problem, more so in view of the fact that I was holding on it! One could, of course, hold the flake against the tock, but not for long, and it was too heavy to throw clear without falling off. Throwing would of course also remove two very good handholds – and if I dropped it – well my feet were just below. Ted and Brian down below could not have known what was going on until, with a little push to the left, I half dropped, half threw it just dear of my left foot to slither noisily down the slab and over the overhang to crash, after a moment’s silence, to the screes below.
Just to complete the picture, the groove from which the flake had come was rounded top and bottom with no trace of the hoped for hold. Almost desperate examination of the rock, however, revealed a tiny flake the top of which was craftily knocked off with the hammer to produce a neat little quarter inch ledge. Using this as a fingerhold a move could again be made across and up to .html grassy strip, Proceeding super-carefully up this (a ninety foot lead-out from the shaky flake runner), it again became possible to move on to the more rugose left edge of the slab which led up to a good grassy ledge just to the right of the "Obvious overhangs " (Quote, Llanberis guide).
At this point, like all good things, the two hundred feet of rope came to an end and the trouble really started. Ted moved a few feet up the climb, to allow me to belay, and then started up. After about thirty feet it became obvious that not only would the climb extend either of the seconds but that the diagonal route placed the second in a no less dangerous position than the leader. Should he come off he would naturally swing out to the left over the overhangs, from which position no amount of pulling on the part of the leader could get him up, nor could the two hundred feet of rope reach any point of safety from which it would be possible to get off the slab. This also meant that it was impossible for me to abseil from the ledge on which I was belayed. Two hundred feet could not nearly reach the rake directly below the ledge, and to return along the way I had come was, to my mind, unthinkable. The problem in a nutshell was that I did not think that I could climb down and the others did not think they could climb up – a mountaineer’s nightmare, especially so on a cliff like "Cloggy."
At this point deep thought, and much head scratching, brought to mind Joe Brown’s feat on "The Boulder"; of course, the only thing to do was to go on unroped in the hope that at least the major problems had been already overcome.
This actually proved to be the case and after gazing wistfully at the white end of rope slithering out of sight down the slab, I turned to tackle what proved to be two more pitches of comparatively little difficulty which eventually led to the easy broken rock characteristic of the top of the Cloggy ridge.
A few moments later I had gained the top to join Ted and Brian, who had continued up the rake to the west and on up to the top. After meeting we returned again down the rake and en route paused to examine again the line of the first few pitches now well shown up by the slings, piton and carabiners remaining there as the spoils of the chase for the next party.
I considered the first pitch delicate and continuously difficult enough to warrant classifying the climb as "exceptionally severe" in the Ynys Ettws log. However, as it was presumably a first ascent, which always makes a climb seem harder than it really is, I have a rather sneaking feeling that some later party will return from Cloggy and enter in the log book: "Bloody Slab - a pleasant little climb. Possibly Very Difficult."