Looking to the south-east from Princes Street, Edinburgh, the eye rests on the Salisbury Crags, crowned with a noble range of precipices, Arthur Seat showing its head from behind. When these Crags first attracted the attention of climbers is unknown, but certain it is that from the commencement of the century the "gutterbluids" of the Dumbiedykes and Canongate have regarded them as their special perquisite, the arena where they might exercise their prehensile and climbing powers. But, despite the efforts of many generations, it has been practically left to the S.M.C. to demonstrate the highways from the Radical Road to the top of the Crags, and up till recently the Cat Nick has held a reputation as being the only feasible way of ascending the cliffs.
Now, as those who attended the demonstration on the Saturday after the annual dinner will remember, there are several other routes more or less difficult - the Elder Tree, Recess, Red Ridge, and Sloping Slab routes, among others - which have been discovered or exploited by Raeburn, Douglas, and other enthusiasts. Indeed, so much have the merits of these routes overshadowed the reputation of the Cat Nick, that a writer in the Journal, Vol. IV., p. 66, speaks of it contemptuously as only suitable for Sunday, with a tall hat and umbrella. Despite this withering reflection, the Cat Nick is no mean climb, especially when taken under difficult conditions; and the writer remembers well how, when but a lad of fourteen and of diminutive stature, he surmounted the overhanging pitch at the top, and considered that this had given him a claim to manhood. In these days the rocks were not so well rounded as now, for the Cat Nick was still the blue ribbon of rock-climbing in Edinburgh, and no mere novice attempted it. Since then I have climbed it often, even with ladies and children, till every foot and hand hold has become familiar to me as the level road. The gully seemed to have nothing more to offer, till, after joining the S.M.C., the thought grew upon me that a winter ascent might prove attractive. On Friday, 22nd January 1897, a strong north-easterly gale blew over Scotland, driving before it dry powdery snow, which searched its way through the frames of ill-fitting windows, and chilled the hearts of all exposed to the blast. On Saturday morning the gale had spent itself, and as I passed into the Queen's Park by St Leonard's Hill the Crags stood up bravely, every crack and cranny picked out by a tracery of white. Arthur Seat, robed in a snowy mantle, had assumed the appearance of one of the Alps, and from the neighbourhood of the old beacon of St Leonard's the eye wandered across to Inchkeith, even to Fife, where the hills were white from head to foot. Looking across the valley there rose the slopes of the Crags, with the Cat Nick, its inner recesses snow-white, and at the distance showing but little rock. Was this the treasured opportunity, and must I let it pass? During the forenoon a friend well tried in climbing exploits suggested that the back of Arthur Seat might afford a glissade. This, however, seemed unlikely, and, instead, we decided to climb the snow slope direct to the Cat Nick, and thence home to dinner. The slope itself, as every one knows, is about 250 feet in height, and of an average angle of about 30ยบ, so that without the aid of an ice-axe the ascent over dry powdery snow was difficult indeed. But at last the Radical Road was reached, and we looked up to the Alpine gully rising snow-clad to the sky-line. Should we attempt it or not? No ice-axe, no climbing gloves, and a determination not to damage our go-to-meeting "Handschuhen" by plunging them in the snow, the odds are that if you ask a member of the S.M.C. to weigh these disadvantages against the charms of a virgin ascent (for the day) up such a gully, he will at once vote for the attack. Besides we had brought a rope, not an Alpine Club one, it is true, but a length of packing-rope, and so we started up the rocks. From the very footpath, snow covered every handhold; not the firm snow that mountaineers love, but loose snow, which drifted about with each eddy of wind that swept round the corner.
Our first difficulty occurred about twenty feet up, where a less vertical portion enabled us to join forces. This resisted every effort, for although we succeeded in laying bare a good handhold, yet the snow from above poured down so steadily that nothing but pressure from below could enable us to surmount the pitch. After ten minutes' labour we almost decided to abandon the climb, but agreed to make one more attempt. This succeeded, and the first man was able to pull up the last by means of the rope. We now bitterly regretted our decision not to sacrifice our new gloves, for our hands were almost paralysed by the snow, into which we had to plunge them up to the elbows to secure a hold. There remained now, however, only a couple of steep pitches above us, while descent, unless involuntarily, seemed equally difficult. The leader, by dint of assistance from behind, reached the last snow plateau, and the last man, to save time, was following as closely as possible, when an incident occurred which it is desirable to relate as a warning to climbers not to risk the shock involved in plunging bare hands into snow several degrees below the freezing point. The last man had had to ascend with but little assistance from the rope, and had to encounter the snow which poured down from every rock, so that for about ten minutes his hands and wrists were exposed to the intense cold. The pain was great, and just at the moment when he had rejoined his companion he felt a faintness coming on. He had only time to get into a safe position, by jamming his foot against a block, and to call to the leader to secure a hitch for the rope, when he became unconscious for a few seconds. Fortunately the situation was safe enough, and during the few minutes which elapsed before strength was sufficiently restored to make an assault on the last pitch, the weird situation was fully realised. Far below were the snow-covered houses, with their chimneys, down which we could almost look into the interior. The children were sliding their toboggans on St Leonard's Hill, and the hum of the city rose to our ears. Yet here we were, almost as completely shut off from human help as if we had been in the heart of the Highlands. The grim walls were shrouded in snow, and the gully below us fell down in abrupt steeps, which shut out even the footpath from which we had ascended. Above, rose the overhanging pitch, seven or eight feet high, easily surmounted in ordinary circumstances, but forbidding on this occasion. The usual footholds were entirely hidden or slippery with ice, and after several efforts it was evident that no one short of a seven-footer could pass the barrier unaided. Mountaineers, however, do not stand on ceremony, and ere long, from the vantage-point of the last man's head, the leader was able to get on to the projecting knob, and after clearing off a quantity of snow, to reach the top. The last man tested the rope to the full, and had practically to be pulled up past the difficulty. As evidencing the keenness of the frost, our clothes, which during the struggle had been moist with perspiration, were immediately frozen as we emerged from the sheltering gully.
Our ascent had taken seventy-five minutes instead of the usual five minutes, and the difficulties would only have been reduced, not removed, if we had been provided with ice-axes. Indeed, so shifting was the snow, that save as a means of clearing handholes, an axe would only have been a hindrance. It is said that a certain place is paved with good resolutions, and we have sent on our contribution by resolving never more to climb in snow without gloves. Our hands did not recover their equilibrium for at least twenty-four hours, and were certainly the worse for the wear.
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