What was the last route you climbed? Mine was Apple Arete at Gardom’s Edge.
Well technically it was fourth from last, but the last route I climbed wasn’t quite as remarkable so for the sake of the story let’s say it was Apple Arete…
We went to Gardom’s to escape the crowds, but everyone else seemed to have the same idea. Or everyone we knew, anyway… The old work lot were there, and the new work lot, and Pete, and Jeannie. Who could blame them? And anyway, it’s never hard to find a secluded spot at Gardom’s Edge.
The landscape is bizarre. Grassy moorland to your left sloping gently up to Birchen Edge, the White Peak and patriotic hillside bedding plant displays to your right, squelching and suckering underfoot. But after the gate the trail is tame, hard and lined by a protective army of silver birch.
To reach the base of the crag you descend into a kingdom of green. Not a bad green like ‘urgh this route is so green’, but a luxurious kind. The world beyond is muffled by a thick blanket of moss that shrouds every available surface. Rocks caught mid-tumble, oaks with desperately outstretched limbs grappling for more than their fair share of canopy, elegant silver birch effortlessly soaring up in between: no one escapes its grasp. It’s a cushioned and comfortable universe, but you can’t help wondering whether all that moss might envelop you too.
Some routes have been reclaimed by plant life, but not Apple Arete. The buttress springs from the earth, clean and intimidating. My casual confidence faded into a nervous grin as I stepped into the crack, placing my ‘best pieces’ (the pieces I thought I’d need later) much sooner than intended. At a few metres, a tentative tac tac tac takes you out to the arete.
From here it’s break to break: classic gritstone but by no means predictable. Some breaks are filled with wonderful lumps and bumps that you can get your fingers round, some squeeze your cupped hand just so, but others leave you nonplussed. You work your feet as you go, rocking up, reaching, pushing and pulling on the arete, scouting for little saucers to smear your soles on. It’s not over until you’re perched atop the airy pillar: victorious, but slightly regretting those perfect anchor pieces 15 metres below.
Apple Arete wasn’t really my last climb before lockdown. It was a meagre four-route day that ended with Garden Face Direct, which doesn’t quite stick in your memory quite like Apple Arete.
In the true version of events our last route was nice but felt a little contrived, my hands were numb and I wished it over. We bickered at the top, scrambled down into the moss in quiet irritation and picked our way back across the bog at dusk. Not quite the perfect end to our last day out climbing, nor was it our most spectacular day out*, but it’s the downs that make the ups. If we’d known it was our last day out climbing, I’m sure we wouldn’t have done anything differently.
Stay safe!
– Hati
*PS. This link will take you to our actual most spectacular day out.
Hati Whiteley 