Reach for the sky

What happens when the next step up the path is taller than you are?

IN THEORY, THE moment where you put hands on rock in order to go upwards is the point where walking ends and climbing begins.

And yet, while a scramble might seem as far removed from a woodland bimble as you can possibly get, it’s all part of the same continuum.

Depending on your perspective, scrambling is either a thrilling, spectacular way to climb a mountain, or it’s the stuff of nightmares.

It is definitely a field of maximum risk. It’s essentially rock climbing without a rope. Get rock climbing wrong and you’re generally going to be okay, if dangling in mid-air and swearing is any definition of okay. Get scrambling wrong and – eeek.

So the important thing is to pick the right things to scramble. Steep but not vertical. Look for ascents with clear steps, obvious handholds and firm platforms. See where other boots have clearly scrambled before you (although be careful, because a route’s popularity increases its chances of being worn smooth or slippery). And use the climber’s mantra: three points of contact on the rock at all times.

Even the Lake District ‘starter fell’ of Cat Bells has a little hand-to-rock outcrop just before its summit. Beyond that, most recognised scrambling routes are graded by a UK-wide system, Grade 1 to Grade 3, increasing in severity. Famous Grade 1s include Striding Edge on Helvellyn, Sharp Edge on Blencathra, most of Tryfan, and Crib Coch on Snowdon (but beware, for there is a lot of nuance in this grade; we’d suggest that each of those represents a big upward shift in severity and scariness).

Grade 2s include Liathach in Torridon and the serrated, mile-long ridge of the Aonach Eagach above Glen Coe. Grade 3s include Pinnacle Ridge on St Sunday Crag in the Lakes and the Cuillin Ridge on Skye.

But while it’s vital to state the risks of scrambling, let’s not forget (for those who enjoy it) the joy. For some, scrambling up a rocky ridge or ‘bad step’ is a thrill that floods the body with endorphins and takes us to the edge of what our bodies can do as walkers. It can also be beautifully logical: the purest definition of a ‘desire line’. And just occasionally, it allows the humble walker to feel a tiny bit superhuman.

On the other hand, this magazine will never reproach anyone for looking at such things and saying, without a second’s hesitation: ‘not on your nelly, mate.’ We get that, too.

TRY IT? Our Snowdon Horseshoe route includes the intense scrambling of Crib Goch (above), which we grade as Extreme. lfto.com/bonusroutes