A lady writes........

sherpa

New member
I've just finished reading Dorothy Pilley's Climbing Days (first published 1935).  She describes her progression from learning to climb (in long skirts) in Snowdonia to ascents in Europe and the Himalayan ranges.  In the early twenties she went caving:

Once or twice I tried pot-holing.  Those grim Yorkshire pits can give one plenty of wild excitement and there is technique here too to be mastered, as I realized fully enough the first time I found myself twisting and spinning half-way down a rope ladder in darkness with a deafening spout of water spraying invisibly past my neck.  But one might as well, or better, I thought, rope down the waterfall of the Devil's Kitchen.  At least there would be glimpses of Llyn Idwal to hearten one in between!  And to come up again after hours of crawling and clambering by artificial light, to scent the bracken and see the shadows lengthening out on a perfect May evening, though it gave one a moment of heart-shaking sweetness, was for me to remember only too well what I was missing.  The seaweed smell inside, the grease from the candle in one's tin-helmet, the reek of sopped dungaree, even the acetylene fumes, were no compensation.  I just felt a water-rat.  And majestic though the stalactite-hung caverns sometimes were, and however thrilling the chances of discovery; the crowbars, picks or pulleys were not for me.  I soon came to the conclusion that the engineers, who rigged the tackle, really got the fun out of these ventures.  But I am grateful to R.F. Stobart for giving me a sight of the horrific nether regions - Nick Pot and Hell Hole indeed!
 
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