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I while ago I saw some comments on here about good reads about (possibly) dockyard workers that formed climbing clubs - anybody know what I'm thinking about?
In reply to H: My mates Dad was part of a group that used to cycle every weekend glasgow to glencoe and back with a weekends skiing and climbing, he laughs when we moan about being tired from a weekend walking.
In reply to H: You want to have a look at:
Creagh Dhu Climber - the life and times of John Cunningham by Jeff Connor.
Creagh Dhu Climber - the life and times of John Cunningham by Jeff Connor.
In reply to H: there's abook about Jock Nimlin kicking about - can't recall what it's called,but it's a good read."From Clydeside to the Crags" or something along those lines.
In reply to Andrew Murray: Its called "May the fire be always lit" or "May the fire always be lit", can't remember who by, a good book anyway.
In reply to H:
Connor's Creag Dhu Climber is the tome you're thinking of, as has been mentioned. However, for a good summary of the history of the Dhu, it's well worth trying to ferret out a two part feature by Ewan MacAskill (not that one) that appeared in an old Bumbler and Stumbler:
MacAskill E (1978) Creagh Dhu (Part 1). Climber & Rambler, 18, 3, 21-26
(1978) Creagh Dhu (Part 2). Climber & Rambler, 18, 4, 35-43
Here's a rough precis:
Assorted Nut Jobs of the Creagh Dhu (1930-1970)
Some of them were quite hard
Any discussion of post-war Scottish climbing inevitably falls under the menacing shadow cast by the legend of the Creagh Dhu, a feared elite of knuckle-dusting bruisers who took no prisoners. That’s how they like to be thought of anyhow, and one or two well known incidents, such as 'The Battle of Zermatt', a mass punch-up between twelve of the Clydesiders and eighty Swiss Guides and porters in 1947, built into a climbers’ urban myth quite effectively. ('It's like the old clan battles,' remembered founding member Chris Lyon when asked who won. 'Some say we won, some say they won, some say nae 'n won ataw. That night the club fielded a grand team of bonnie fechters.') Although climbing historian revisionists now argue that incidents like 'The Battle' were in fact isolated incidents, that’s not to say that climbers like Bill Smith (John Cunningham’s frequent partner) weren’t capable of glassing people in pub brawls. And plenty of independent eye-witnesses can attest to the sink-or-swim way that the club dealt with weaker members. Apprentices (known in those racist times as 'Blackboys') 'served a humbling apprenticeship,' essentially acting as the equivalent of public school 'fags' to the senior members of the club fetching and carrying for them and doing all the cooking on weekends away. Stan Thomson recalls climbing on The Cobbler in the 30s when The Creagh Dhu were operating. 'One of the young apprentices was trying to solo a route and got gripped, and shouted for a top rope. A couple of older men went to the top and shouted, "Ye wanna a rope? Here's yer bluidy rope", and threw a fully coiled rope at him, trying to knock him off.' With stories like that, you get the distinct impression that the modern cultural heirs to the spirit of the Dhu are probably to be found among Neds and Schemies of Glaswegian sink estates hurling TVs down at passers-by from their tower block feifdoms. Certainly, they did their best to turn their infamous Glencoe club 'hut', Jacksonville, into a kind of ideal home prototype for the hideous hovels of the Council schemes of the future. The only detail they didn't quite anticipate was a burnt-out car wreck out the front and millions of screaming kids chasing after an Afghan refugee.
(Part 2 contd below)
> I while ago I saw some comments on here about good reads about (possibly) dockyard workers that formed climbing clubs - anybody know what I'm thinking about?
Connor's Creag Dhu Climber is the tome you're thinking of, as has been mentioned. However, for a good summary of the history of the Dhu, it's well worth trying to ferret out a two part feature by Ewan MacAskill (not that one) that appeared in an old Bumbler and Stumbler:
MacAskill E (1978) Creagh Dhu (Part 1). Climber & Rambler, 18, 3, 21-26
(1978) Creagh Dhu (Part 2). Climber & Rambler, 18, 4, 35-43
Here's a rough precis:
Assorted Nut Jobs of the Creagh Dhu (1930-1970)
Some of them were quite hard
Any discussion of post-war Scottish climbing inevitably falls under the menacing shadow cast by the legend of the Creagh Dhu, a feared elite of knuckle-dusting bruisers who took no prisoners. That’s how they like to be thought of anyhow, and one or two well known incidents, such as 'The Battle of Zermatt', a mass punch-up between twelve of the Clydesiders and eighty Swiss Guides and porters in 1947, built into a climbers’ urban myth quite effectively. ('It's like the old clan battles,' remembered founding member Chris Lyon when asked who won. 'Some say we won, some say they won, some say nae 'n won ataw. That night the club fielded a grand team of bonnie fechters.') Although climbing historian revisionists now argue that incidents like 'The Battle' were in fact isolated incidents, that’s not to say that climbers like Bill Smith (John Cunningham’s frequent partner) weren’t capable of glassing people in pub brawls. And plenty of independent eye-witnesses can attest to the sink-or-swim way that the club dealt with weaker members. Apprentices (known in those racist times as 'Blackboys') 'served a humbling apprenticeship,' essentially acting as the equivalent of public school 'fags' to the senior members of the club fetching and carrying for them and doing all the cooking on weekends away. Stan Thomson recalls climbing on The Cobbler in the 30s when The Creagh Dhu were operating. 'One of the young apprentices was trying to solo a route and got gripped, and shouted for a top rope. A couple of older men went to the top and shouted, "Ye wanna a rope? Here's yer bluidy rope", and threw a fully coiled rope at him, trying to knock him off.' With stories like that, you get the distinct impression that the modern cultural heirs to the spirit of the Dhu are probably to be found among Neds and Schemies of Glaswegian sink estates hurling TVs down at passers-by from their tower block feifdoms. Certainly, they did their best to turn their infamous Glencoe club 'hut', Jacksonville, into a kind of ideal home prototype for the hideous hovels of the Council schemes of the future. The only detail they didn't quite anticipate was a burnt-out car wreck out the front and millions of screaming kids chasing after an Afghan refugee.
(Part 2 contd below)
1
In reply to Colin Wells:
Part 2
Jacksonville, or 'The Black Hoose' as it was known to its aficionados, was originally a sheep fank lying abandoned at the foot of Buachaille Etive Mor. Creagh Dhu members had traditionally used it as a roofless doss but when wartime commandos left a tent flysheet behind after training it was commandeered to provide a roof for the now luxurious 'hut'. A tank cover was next 'commandeered' to improve the property and Dhu member and arch scavaiger Jimmy Jackson 'acquired' a door, window and stove. Tar, timber and an old railway tarpaulin completed the Des Res. Jacksonville was born, and with it a thousand anecdotes. Open-mouthed motorists passing along the nearby A82 in the 1950s would occasionally catch sight of Creagh Dhu members fighting amongst themselves outside the hut. Nevertheless, Chris Jackson claimed that the club's reputation for aggression was exaggerated. The widely held view that the Dhu wouldn’t tolerate other climbers camping near their hut was, he claimed, not true and based on 'harmless incidents.' The latter comprised the Dhu's habit of lobbing stones at anyone - including club members - who tried to cross the stepping stones across the River Coupall to Jacksonville. 'It was never malicious, just good-natured horseplay,' ventured Lyon unconvincingly, in much the same way a bouncer might explains how a punter's face runs into his fist. When the National Trust for Scotland, on whose land the hovel sat, tried to enforce planning permission, they met a similarly unhelpful reception. 'I was sat inside once drumming up when I saw this chap and a woman coming across the stepping stones,' remembered Bill Smith. 'Next minute he is tapping on the door. "Is there a Mr. Jackson here?" and I told him "No, he's away in America, you'll no get hold of him." So then he starts muttering about permission to build the place and I put him off and suggested he go and see the police. Of course the police told him it was a good thing to have the hut there because if there were any rescues they knew where to find climbers who knew the area.'
One of the reasons the hard reputation of the Dhu became so great, however, was probably because they were notoriously reticent about their activities, allowing the rumour mill to run riot. The Climbing Weegies were particularly antipathetic towards gentlemen of the press, dating form an incident in Skye when club members were helping to carry an injured climber from the Cuillin. A newspaper reporter approached the stretcher party and started asking questions rather than offering to help. The Dhu members thought this rather rude. When he persisted in pestering them for details as the circumstances of the accident and the identity of the victim one of the Creagh Dhu replied, ‘He’s a bloody ballet dancer’, before nutting the unfortunate reporter. PR was never the Dhu’s strong point.
The Club was forged around the famous semi-permanent campfire at Craigallion, a remote spot near Glasgow’s outlying Campsie Fells in 1930. Unemployed shipyard workers from Clydebank, Glasgow, and Dumbarton with time on their hands would wander out into the countryside, bored, and sit around the fire muttering of revolution. They succeeded in causing one – but in Scottish climbing, rather than in politics. Initially exploring crags close to home, such as The Whangie, the Tartan Army was soon marching and hitching on a campaign northwards to conquer the difficult verticalities of The Cobbler, virtually untouched by the posh old men of the SMC until then. Jock Nimlin, a leading light in this regard (although a Ptarmigan Club man rather than Creag Dhu) made many of his finest routes with Creagh Dhu climbers like Jimmy Wynne, William Neilson, Robert Goldie, and John and Alec Muir. Just to the north, a brand new road had just been completed which led to the hardly touched brooding cragscape of Glen Coe. Thus the Dhu began to explore travelling sometimes by lorry (involving all-night sing-songs and massive bevvies) but mostly by superhuman feats of hitching. Dhu members would eventually travel all over the West Highlands in this manner – some even reached the Cuillin, Cairngorms, Lake District, Wales and a few to the Alps on one occasion. Finding no pints of heavy or whisky they headed back to their hameland bogs immediately.
(Part 3 below)
Part 2
Jacksonville, or 'The Black Hoose' as it was known to its aficionados, was originally a sheep fank lying abandoned at the foot of Buachaille Etive Mor. Creagh Dhu members had traditionally used it as a roofless doss but when wartime commandos left a tent flysheet behind after training it was commandeered to provide a roof for the now luxurious 'hut'. A tank cover was next 'commandeered' to improve the property and Dhu member and arch scavaiger Jimmy Jackson 'acquired' a door, window and stove. Tar, timber and an old railway tarpaulin completed the Des Res. Jacksonville was born, and with it a thousand anecdotes. Open-mouthed motorists passing along the nearby A82 in the 1950s would occasionally catch sight of Creagh Dhu members fighting amongst themselves outside the hut. Nevertheless, Chris Jackson claimed that the club's reputation for aggression was exaggerated. The widely held view that the Dhu wouldn’t tolerate other climbers camping near their hut was, he claimed, not true and based on 'harmless incidents.' The latter comprised the Dhu's habit of lobbing stones at anyone - including club members - who tried to cross the stepping stones across the River Coupall to Jacksonville. 'It was never malicious, just good-natured horseplay,' ventured Lyon unconvincingly, in much the same way a bouncer might explains how a punter's face runs into his fist. When the National Trust for Scotland, on whose land the hovel sat, tried to enforce planning permission, they met a similarly unhelpful reception. 'I was sat inside once drumming up when I saw this chap and a woman coming across the stepping stones,' remembered Bill Smith. 'Next minute he is tapping on the door. "Is there a Mr. Jackson here?" and I told him "No, he's away in America, you'll no get hold of him." So then he starts muttering about permission to build the place and I put him off and suggested he go and see the police. Of course the police told him it was a good thing to have the hut there because if there were any rescues they knew where to find climbers who knew the area.'
One of the reasons the hard reputation of the Dhu became so great, however, was probably because they were notoriously reticent about their activities, allowing the rumour mill to run riot. The Climbing Weegies were particularly antipathetic towards gentlemen of the press, dating form an incident in Skye when club members were helping to carry an injured climber from the Cuillin. A newspaper reporter approached the stretcher party and started asking questions rather than offering to help. The Dhu members thought this rather rude. When he persisted in pestering them for details as the circumstances of the accident and the identity of the victim one of the Creagh Dhu replied, ‘He’s a bloody ballet dancer’, before nutting the unfortunate reporter. PR was never the Dhu’s strong point.
The Club was forged around the famous semi-permanent campfire at Craigallion, a remote spot near Glasgow’s outlying Campsie Fells in 1930. Unemployed shipyard workers from Clydebank, Glasgow, and Dumbarton with time on their hands would wander out into the countryside, bored, and sit around the fire muttering of revolution. They succeeded in causing one – but in Scottish climbing, rather than in politics. Initially exploring crags close to home, such as The Whangie, the Tartan Army was soon marching and hitching on a campaign northwards to conquer the difficult verticalities of The Cobbler, virtually untouched by the posh old men of the SMC until then. Jock Nimlin, a leading light in this regard (although a Ptarmigan Club man rather than Creag Dhu) made many of his finest routes with Creagh Dhu climbers like Jimmy Wynne, William Neilson, Robert Goldie, and John and Alec Muir. Just to the north, a brand new road had just been completed which led to the hardly touched brooding cragscape of Glen Coe. Thus the Dhu began to explore travelling sometimes by lorry (involving all-night sing-songs and massive bevvies) but mostly by superhuman feats of hitching. Dhu members would eventually travel all over the West Highlands in this manner – some even reached the Cuillin, Cairngorms, Lake District, Wales and a few to the Alps on one occasion. Finding no pints of heavy or whisky they headed back to their hameland bogs immediately.
(Part 3 below)
1
In reply to Colin Wells:
Part 3
The outbreak of war was good for the Creagh Dhu, in that it brought work back to the shipyards and associated industries. Climbing equipment was bodged illicitly – tricounis, pitons and crampons – and club members didn’t let the respectability of paid employment allow then to stop behaving in the manner to which they had been accustomed. In 1942 using a hired rowing boat they made a poaching raid across Loch Lomond to keepered ground in search of wild goats but, finding none, shot a couple of sheep instead. The keeper spotted them and alerted the authority. The ensuing waterborne chase across the loch by a launch filled with armed US soldiers from the nearby military base at Luss has gone down as part of the Creagh Dhu legend, not least because the fit climbers managed to out-row the motorised Yanks and escape.
After the war the Creagh Dhu entered a prolonged period of domination when they dominated Scottish climbing. Climbers like John Cunningham, Bill Smith, Pat Walsh, Mick Noon, Bill Rowney, John Cullen and Charlie Vigano were active all over the shop including England and Wales. The Cobbler virtually became the Creagh Dhu’s outdoor climbing gym, and many classic routes date from this creative period such as Smith and McInnes’ 1951 route Gladiator’s Groove (HVS) and Pat Walsh’s 1954 contribution Club Crack (HVS), the latter only succumbing after Walsh had taken a whipper on a previous attempt, knocking himself unconscious, but just ‘sleeping it off’, and walking home. From the late '40s onwards, helped by their homespun basecamp of Jacksonville, Dhu members colonised Buachaille Etive Mor, plastering it with hard lines including Scotland’s first E1s, Gallows Route and Guerdon Grooves (Cunningham), as well as other classics like Whortlebury Wall, Revelation, Bludger’s Route, Gallows Route, Mainbrace Crack etc… It was the Dhu that really developed the Etive Slabs following their discovery by Scots Cambridge undergraduate Eric Langmuir in 1954. In 1957 the Creagh Dhu began the process of lacing the granite with many of the classic hard routes like Agony, The Claw, Hammer and Swastika, followed by Cunningham and Noon’s Long Walk in 1958.
Creagh Dhu members were also making their mark abroad, usually with so little ostentation that no one realised what they were up to except when there was a punch-up. A good example was Dhu member George Shield’s repeat of Lakeland Rock God Arthur Dolphin’s Kipling Groove (HVS 5a) on Gimmer Crag, a route thought to be among the hardest in the country at the time. Few people realised Shields had done it and for many years Joe Brown was credited with the second ascent. By this stage the Dhu were also making their presence felt in the Alps, sometimes literally, thanks to the famous ‘Battle of Zermatt’ previously alluded to. A more edifying example of club members’ hardy resourcefulness came in a very early attempt to repeat the Matterhorn Nordwand by Chris Lyon and three other members in 1947. They approached the notorious chop route as nonchalantly as if they were off for days ramble across Rannoch Moor, armed with ‘Two lengths of manila rope, ex-postman’s trousers, cut-down gabardine raincoats, a couple of extra sandwiches and a bunnet to carry them in.’ Amazingly, they got halfway up the face before the weather broke, but instead of retreating they reversed to the Zmutt Ridge, ate their sandwiches, and put up a new route up the pinnacles of the Zmutgrat before returning to Zermatt.
In the 1960s star Creagh Dhu members continued the tradition of hard climbs by distinctive ‘characters. These included John MacLean from Anniesland who was known as ‘The White Hope’. A prominent tough guy, MacLean climbed extensively with Marshall and put up many fine routes such as Ben Nevis’s ace multi-pitch E2, Torro in 1962. MacLean was famous for getting bevvied up and then wandering around saying, 'I need to fight someone.' Apparently he often did. The equally pugnacious Bill Smith was also active on Etive, putting up The Long Reach (E2), while there was an influx of new talent including Clydebanker Con Higgins, Dumbartoner Ian Nicolson, and Londoner Rab Carrington. Among their hard rock routes were McLean’s Folly (Carrington) on the Cobbler; and Apocalypse on the Buachaille (Higgins and Nicolson). All three would also excel in winter with Nicolson brashly confirmed the end of the step-cutting era with his magnificent solos of Point Five and Zero Gully in the same day.
Higgins meanwhile would go on to produce for many fine classic hard routes, especially on Ben Nevis, including Albatross VI, 5, Burrito's Groove IV, 4 and first recognised Grade VI Galactic Hitchhiker VI, 5 (all climbed with Mike Geddes in 1978), Astral Highway VI, 5 (climbed with Alan Kimber) and Last Day in Purgatory V, 5 in 1978, named because he was about to emigrate to the USA. He returned once more however, to put up the thin and intricate Journey into Space VII, 5 with Kimber in 1980.
In many ways these characters formed the last generation representing the values and attitudes of the original Creagh Dhu. 'I thought they could be very narrow-minded and full of working-class snobbery,' thought Ken Wilson of the original cast. But by the late 60s the new generation had benefited from university educations and were more tolerant and liberal in their ideas of society. They refrained from spitting when meeting Chris Bonington for example. Carrington had even been born in London. The times they were a changing. When they allowed an architect from Edinburgh into the club in 1987, you knew things would never be the same again…
What they said: 'It was a macho sort of club. If your face didn’t fit you could not join. There were a lot of guys in the Creagh Dhu who weren't really climbers but you had to have other qualities, a sort of character. If you were obnoxious you stood a good chance of getting in.' George Shields explains the unique entry qualifications for The Dhu
Part 3
The outbreak of war was good for the Creagh Dhu, in that it brought work back to the shipyards and associated industries. Climbing equipment was bodged illicitly – tricounis, pitons and crampons – and club members didn’t let the respectability of paid employment allow then to stop behaving in the manner to which they had been accustomed. In 1942 using a hired rowing boat they made a poaching raid across Loch Lomond to keepered ground in search of wild goats but, finding none, shot a couple of sheep instead. The keeper spotted them and alerted the authority. The ensuing waterborne chase across the loch by a launch filled with armed US soldiers from the nearby military base at Luss has gone down as part of the Creagh Dhu legend, not least because the fit climbers managed to out-row the motorised Yanks and escape.
After the war the Creagh Dhu entered a prolonged period of domination when they dominated Scottish climbing. Climbers like John Cunningham, Bill Smith, Pat Walsh, Mick Noon, Bill Rowney, John Cullen and Charlie Vigano were active all over the shop including England and Wales. The Cobbler virtually became the Creagh Dhu’s outdoor climbing gym, and many classic routes date from this creative period such as Smith and McInnes’ 1951 route Gladiator’s Groove (HVS) and Pat Walsh’s 1954 contribution Club Crack (HVS), the latter only succumbing after Walsh had taken a whipper on a previous attempt, knocking himself unconscious, but just ‘sleeping it off’, and walking home. From the late '40s onwards, helped by their homespun basecamp of Jacksonville, Dhu members colonised Buachaille Etive Mor, plastering it with hard lines including Scotland’s first E1s, Gallows Route and Guerdon Grooves (Cunningham), as well as other classics like Whortlebury Wall, Revelation, Bludger’s Route, Gallows Route, Mainbrace Crack etc… It was the Dhu that really developed the Etive Slabs following their discovery by Scots Cambridge undergraduate Eric Langmuir in 1954. In 1957 the Creagh Dhu began the process of lacing the granite with many of the classic hard routes like Agony, The Claw, Hammer and Swastika, followed by Cunningham and Noon’s Long Walk in 1958.
Creagh Dhu members were also making their mark abroad, usually with so little ostentation that no one realised what they were up to except when there was a punch-up. A good example was Dhu member George Shield’s repeat of Lakeland Rock God Arthur Dolphin’s Kipling Groove (HVS 5a) on Gimmer Crag, a route thought to be among the hardest in the country at the time. Few people realised Shields had done it and for many years Joe Brown was credited with the second ascent. By this stage the Dhu were also making their presence felt in the Alps, sometimes literally, thanks to the famous ‘Battle of Zermatt’ previously alluded to. A more edifying example of club members’ hardy resourcefulness came in a very early attempt to repeat the Matterhorn Nordwand by Chris Lyon and three other members in 1947. They approached the notorious chop route as nonchalantly as if they were off for days ramble across Rannoch Moor, armed with ‘Two lengths of manila rope, ex-postman’s trousers, cut-down gabardine raincoats, a couple of extra sandwiches and a bunnet to carry them in.’ Amazingly, they got halfway up the face before the weather broke, but instead of retreating they reversed to the Zmutt Ridge, ate their sandwiches, and put up a new route up the pinnacles of the Zmutgrat before returning to Zermatt.
In the 1960s star Creagh Dhu members continued the tradition of hard climbs by distinctive ‘characters. These included John MacLean from Anniesland who was known as ‘The White Hope’. A prominent tough guy, MacLean climbed extensively with Marshall and put up many fine routes such as Ben Nevis’s ace multi-pitch E2, Torro in 1962. MacLean was famous for getting bevvied up and then wandering around saying, 'I need to fight someone.' Apparently he often did. The equally pugnacious Bill Smith was also active on Etive, putting up The Long Reach (E2), while there was an influx of new talent including Clydebanker Con Higgins, Dumbartoner Ian Nicolson, and Londoner Rab Carrington. Among their hard rock routes were McLean’s Folly (Carrington) on the Cobbler; and Apocalypse on the Buachaille (Higgins and Nicolson). All three would also excel in winter with Nicolson brashly confirmed the end of the step-cutting era with his magnificent solos of Point Five and Zero Gully in the same day.
Higgins meanwhile would go on to produce for many fine classic hard routes, especially on Ben Nevis, including Albatross VI, 5, Burrito's Groove IV, 4 and first recognised Grade VI Galactic Hitchhiker VI, 5 (all climbed with Mike Geddes in 1978), Astral Highway VI, 5 (climbed with Alan Kimber) and Last Day in Purgatory V, 5 in 1978, named because he was about to emigrate to the USA. He returned once more however, to put up the thin and intricate Journey into Space VII, 5 with Kimber in 1980.
In many ways these characters formed the last generation representing the values and attitudes of the original Creagh Dhu. 'I thought they could be very narrow-minded and full of working-class snobbery,' thought Ken Wilson of the original cast. But by the late 60s the new generation had benefited from university educations and were more tolerant and liberal in their ideas of society. They refrained from spitting when meeting Chris Bonington for example. Carrington had even been born in London. The times they were a changing. When they allowed an architect from Edinburgh into the club in 1987, you knew things would never be the same again…
What they said: 'It was a macho sort of club. If your face didn’t fit you could not join. There were a lot of guys in the Creagh Dhu who weren't really climbers but you had to have other qualities, a sort of character. If you were obnoxious you stood a good chance of getting in.' George Shields explains the unique entry qualifications for The Dhu
1
In reply to Andrew Murray:
Creagh Dhu Climber:The Life & Times of John Cunningham
Jeff Connor
May the Fire be Always Lit: A biography of Jock Nimlin
I D S Thomson
Both very good and available at http://www.ernest-press.co.uk/
Also on the same imprint are The Ordinary Route (By Harold Drasdo) and The Undiscovered Country (By Phil Bartlett) which are both really well worth owning.
B
Creagh Dhu Climber:The Life & Times of John Cunningham
Jeff Connor
May the Fire be Always Lit: A biography of Jock Nimlin
I D S Thomson
Both very good and available at http://www.ernest-press.co.uk/
Also on the same imprint are The Ordinary Route (By Harold Drasdo) and The Undiscovered Country (By Phil Bartlett) which are both really well worth owning.
B
1
In reply to Colin Wells:
Colin, I do hope these excellent histories you're always posting are part of a forthcoming book? If so, then you want fiefdom not feifdom and Whortleberry Wall not Whortlebury.
Was Macinnes a CD member? if so his and Cunningham's Alpine-style attempt on Everest surely deserves a mention?
Colin, I do hope these excellent histories you're always posting are part of a forthcoming book? If so, then you want fiefdom not feifdom and Whortleberry Wall not Whortlebury.
Was Macinnes a CD member? if so his and Cunningham's Alpine-style attempt on Everest surely deserves a mention?
In reply to johncoxmysteriously1:
part of a forthcoming book? Some of the passages definitely recognisable from the long since published 'Creag Dhu Climber'
I >think< MacInnes hung around and climbed a lot with the CD but was never actually made a member. Could be wrong - there's CD members who post on here who would know for sure.
part of a forthcoming book? Some of the passages definitely recognisable from the long since published 'Creag Dhu Climber'
I >think< MacInnes hung around and climbed a lot with the CD but was never actually made a member. Could be wrong - there's CD members who post on here who would know for sure.
In reply to Colin Wells:
Dear Colin
I have heard a few “tales of the river bank”, but never read the tales, however, all the good stories are missing from your potted history.
I have also met most of the personnel you mention, and some are not obnoxious, the ones that are obnoxious are never mentioned in print.
Norrie
PS I have only met one person who said he was a member of the CDMC without being asked “Are you a member of a club”.
Dear Colin
I have heard a few “tales of the river bank”, but never read the tales, however, all the good stories are missing from your potted history.
I have also met most of the personnel you mention, and some are not obnoxious, the ones that are obnoxious are never mentioned in print.
Norrie
PS I have only met one person who said he was a member of the CDMC without being asked “Are you a member of a club”.
In reply to johncoxmysteriously1:
As I understand it, MacInnes was never a CD member, although closely associated with other members. Is this right Norrie? Hopefully you can put us right on this if not.
Ta for the impromptu proof reading again John - it's extremely useful to have a fresh pair of eyes, which is partly why I'm posting these things now and again whenever it seems appropriate.
Your suspicion is correct in that they are part of a forthcoming tome, called:
Who's Who in British Climbing. Bite sized biographies of dead climbers - and some that are still alive.
Due out sometime in the early summer. It should provide a wonderful opportunity for everyone get in touch with their inner pedant. Looking forward to receiving the brickbats aleady...
As I understand it, MacInnes was never a CD member, although closely associated with other members. Is this right Norrie? Hopefully you can put us right on this if not.
Ta for the impromptu proof reading again John - it's extremely useful to have a fresh pair of eyes, which is partly why I'm posting these things now and again whenever it seems appropriate.
Your suspicion is correct in that they are part of a forthcoming tome, called:
Who's Who in British Climbing. Bite sized biographies of dead climbers - and some that are still alive.
Due out sometime in the early summer. It should provide a wonderful opportunity for everyone get in touch with their inner pedant. Looking forward to receiving the brickbats aleady...
In reply to Norrie Muir:
Given you don't mention him, I assume he was one of the Clan Obnoxious?
> (In reply to Colin Wells)
>
> Dear Colin
>
> I have heard a few “tales of the river bank”, but never read the tales, however, all the good stories are missing from your potted history.
>
Yes, I have only read the tales, never heard them, which is why they are missing. Perhaps you could make up the deficiency? Oh go on, don't be such a tease.
>
> Dear Colin
>
> I have heard a few “tales of the river bank”, but never read the tales, however, all the good stories are missing from your potted history.
>
> I have also met most of the personnel you mention, and some are not obnoxious, the ones that are obnoxious are never mentioned in print.
>
Ah, right, so those are the ones that are obnoxious...
>
>
> PS I have only met one person who said he was a member of the CDMC without being asked “Are you a member of a club”.
> PS I have only met one person who said he was a member of the CDMC without being asked “Are you a member of a club”.
Given you don't mention him, I assume he was one of the Clan Obnoxious?
In reply to GFoz:
Connor's book was certainly one of the sources, and any direct quotes are attributed appropriately. The main source for this entry was, however, the Ewan MacAskill CD histories from 1978.
> (In reply to johncoxmysteriously1)
>
> part of a forthcoming book? Some of the passages definitely recognisable from the long since published 'Creag Dhu Climber'
>
>
>
> part of a forthcoming book? Some of the passages definitely recognisable from the long since published 'Creag Dhu Climber'
>
>
Connor's book was certainly one of the sources, and any direct quotes are attributed appropriately. The main source for this entry was, however, the Ewan MacAskill CD histories from 1978.
In reply to johncoxmysteriously1:
Forgot to add: The Creagh Dhu Everest Expedition of 1953 is covered in detail under the entry for John Cunningham, who gets a whole section to himself.
> (In reply to Colin Wells)
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> Was Macinnes a CD member? if so his and Cunningham's Alpine-style attempt on Everest surely deserves a mention?
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> Was Macinnes a CD member? if so his and Cunningham's Alpine-style attempt on Everest surely deserves a mention?
Forgot to add: The Creagh Dhu Everest Expedition of 1953 is covered in detail under the entry for John Cunningham, who gets a whole section to himself.
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