Only fit for a mountain goat

Whenever I go walking in the mountains with my dad we inevitably end up on some dodgy scrambling that wasn't in the original plan and which he doesn't really enjoy. Normally he gets through it ok but without lots of muttering about how this sort of terrain is only suitable for a mountain goat. Kiwi Steve, Helena and I went to the aptly name Goat crag in Borrowdale on Sunday and I spent a large part of the day thinking similar thoughts. The crag gets a glowing report along the lines of 'showcasing the best that the valley has to offer' and has lots of multi-starred HVS's and E1's including the Hard Rock classic Praying Mantis. Perhaps we should have had second thoughts about visiting a slow to dry north facing crag in early October but the weather had been dry for three a days, Saturday was supposed to have been glorious and the Geoffcast was fairly positive...



I was in a particularly buoyant mood after England's unexpected triumph on Saturday (cue much jumping around the living room by myself) and despite having only got having had three hours sleep (imminent work deadline) was pysched for a day of 'cranking and sending' (© G.Marshall). My partners were slighty stiff after completing the Pentland Skyline the day before and Steve was probably suffering after New Zealands loss (choke?) the night before. The walk up to the crag felt more like the jungles of South-East Asia than the bracing fells of Cumbria, it was warm and sticky and a heavy dew dripped off the trees and bracken whilst the worrylingly vegetated cliff loomed out of the gloom like the facade of a long lost temple. The scramble up to the base was precarious and the lichenous rocks were greasy to put it mildly. We chose to an HVS to 'warm up on' before possibly tackling something harder. The route we settled on was called Cursing Caterpillar' a **HVS and the beginning at least looked dry.




I slightly concerned when Steve almost slipped off the first move but he soon arrived at the belay and we quickly followed him up, I wasn't sure if the rock the slippy or whether it was my mind just playing tricks, but the climbing was straightforward enough. The next pitch was the crux, skirting a bulge, traversing a slab and then through an overhang and steeply up to belay. The first bulgy section was wet and I went up and fannied about for while before sacking it in. Helena was sent up and ignoring the overhanging dry bit I had tackled she squirmed her way up a unpleasant looking wet and mossy groove to the right before traversing onto the slab. Deciding she preferred the look of a more direct 5b way through the overhang, she gave it a few trys before being spat off and going for the normal way instead, this gave by far the best climbing on the route; a few burly moves through an overhang then some steep face climbing and finally a pleasant slab.



The next pitch was a masterly lead from Steve, although its debateable whether it was actually classifiable as climbing. It started innocuously enough - a thin traverse across a slab before he disappeared out of sight and then sent down a fairly steady stream of moss and earth. The next 15m of consisted of extreme heather climbing: a precarious mixture of grabbing huge tufts and hoping the big grass clumps that passed for footholds didn't rip out. Definitely one one for the amateur botanist. This was followed by a wet mossy slab that both Helena and I pendulumed across seconding before a final few steep horticultural moves were needed to reach the belay. Without a doubt the hardest ungraded pitch I've ever done.



By now the mist had descended and we'd already spent a good five hours on the route, so much for warmup. The guidebook warned that the next pitch climbed a jamming crack that had now fallen down and that it was 4c. The guidebook author was either fibbing or hadn't reclimbed it, I've climbed a fair few 4c pitches and this felt more like solid 5c. The rock was also very different to lower down, having smooth surfaces and sharp edges more akin to quarried dolerite (visions of rosyth) and was covered in a decent coating of greasy lichen After climbing past a sizeable birds nest I flailed my way up what remained of the crack, rested a few times and then gave up, not my best leading day. Steve went up, got a little higher before resting and then managed to pendulum to another groove, this looked hideously loose but was actually ok before a final mossy cornice needed to be overcome to reach the top. As the walk off is supposed to be a lengthy faff we got dn in 3 raps and got back to car as darkness fell, feeling slightly sheepish at taking 8hrs for a 120m route. I'm not sure if I can really recommend Goat crag unless you go during a really dry spell and stick to the real classics, I dread to think what state one star routes or less are in, if especially two star ones feel like something out of the Lost World.