There are a couple of things you should know about the Trail magazine team. The first is this: we all get on. So, when it was suggested that we should all head to the Lake District for a leg-stretching, head-clearing fell walk followed by a brainstorming session in a Lakeland pub, there were no complaints.
The second thing to know is this: not every member of the Trail team is what you would call a mountain aficionado. Sure, editor Oli, deputy editor Jenna and I are all enthusiastic peak buffs, and photographer Tom has more hill experience than the three of us put together.
Even design supremo Louise is what you’d call a peak enthusiast – a useful thing when your job is to select and work with phenomenal mountain photography. But once you move away from these roles, a passion for all things high and pointy becomes less prevalent and, to be honest, less essential.
Somewhere in the middle of all this is our production editor Shane. Without going too much into what she does at work (nobody’s really sure), the only thing it’s essential for her to know about mountains is how to spell them. Still, she was keen to know what all the fuss was about and gladly committed to our office escape.
Fast-forward a few weeks and a couple of hundred miles, and we’re sitting on the shore of Scales Tarn below Blencathra, looking up at Sharp Edge. Its serrated ridge scores a blissfully blue and mercifully windless sky, looking high and intimidating.
But if Shane is intimidated, she’s not showing it. Yet. The walk-up from the car must have been something of an eye-opener for legs more used to the fenland gradients of East Anglia, but again, if she’s suffering, she’s not letting on. Yet. The next bit will be the real test though. It’s what we’re here for, waiting with slightly sinister enthusiasm to see what this hill newbie makes of the ridge.
We’re not really as sadistic as that sounds. We all want Shane to enjoy the experience, to understand what it is the rest of us love about mountains, to share some of our passion. And we’re not setting her up to fail. Quite the opposite.
Tucked away in my pack is a confidence rope. As a Mountain Leader, it’s part of my essential kit, even if the intention is never to get it out. It’s a bit like car insurance in that respect; there’s never any intention to use it, no plans that will rely on its application, but it’s good to know it’s there just in case.
Of course, you don’t have to be a Mountain Leader, versed in the relevant knots and techniques of confidence roping, to introduce someone to scrambling, but it does help to think like one. Some of the things we considered in advance were the weather forecast, the specifics of the route, including retreat options, Shane’s fitness, and ensuring expectations were set accurately.
On the day itself, I’d been watching to see how she coped with the easier ground and whether she seemed comfortable in the environment and her kit. With everything looking promising, it’s time to tackle the edge. We leave the tarn and make the short ascent to the start of the ridge.
When taking someone on a scramble – particularly a nervous or novice person – it’s necessary to regularly make the decision between leading and following. To get onto the back of Sharp Edge requires a short, rocky clamber up onto the arête. To the seasoned scrambler it’s barely worthy of note; a chunky mix of easy foot and hand holds that’s merely a step to be taken to get to the good stuff.
But for somebody tackling anything other than horizontal ground for the first time, it can be a more challenging experience. I have two choices at this point. One, take the lead and show Shane which way to go, letting her follow on at her own speed.
Or two, follow just behind, pointing out holds from below, offering a supportive hand on her rucksack if she feels nervous and also providing a physical barrier in the event of a slip. On this sort of scrambling, option two is the natural and best choice.
Although Shane moves slowly but easily up the rock and on to the ridge itself, it’s clear that we’re edging out of her comfort zone. The first part of the arête is relatively straightforward. There’s little gradient and the way forward over the rock is obvious. The edge is not yet at its sharpest and it provides a good opportunity to get into the headspace for what’s required further along.
But this assumes you’re familiar with the sensation of being high in mountain terrain with steep drops a mere few feet away on either side. And for someone who’s never set foot in the mountains before, even this ‘straightforward’ section can be terrifying. Shane is not terrified, but she is clearly nervous.
By now I’ve moved just ahead of her and am pointing out the best way to go and where to place her feet. Although the ridge here is horizontal, rather than vertical, she’s keen to get her hands on rock as much as possible.
It should be noted at this point that Shane is a keen fitness enthusiast. She works out, dances, and in day-to-day life carries herself with the grace and poise of a Thoroughbred racehorse. Right now, though, she’s moving like a baby giraffe with its shoelaces tied together.
And this is because dealing with exposure is as much about mental focus as it is physical ability, and it’s this side of the skillset that Shane is missing. I move from leading the way to following up close behind, depending on the specific movements required, occasionally holding out a hand to take when she reaches out for it. For a first-timer, she’s doing brilliantly, making slow but steady progress towards the Sharp Edge’s ‘crux’: the Bad Step.
If there’s a difficult section on a scramble that you know your novice will have to tackle, there’s no point pretending it doesn’t exist. But neither do you want to build it up into such an obstacle that they’re a quivering mess of nervous anticipation before they even reach it. I’d explained the Bad Step to Shane in advance, and as we approach it, we stop so I can point out where it is, what the dangers are, and how we’re going to tackle them.
I explain that the biggest issue with the Step is the slightly outward slanting rock that can be treacherously slippery when wet. But it’s a beautiful day, the rock is bone dry, and the grip is great, so we don’t need to worry about that. I point out where the hardest moves are (which is really more about the exposure than technical difficulty) and explain that I will move around her to always be between her and any drop.
I show her where we need to get to and let her know that once we’re there we can stop and take a break. And, most importantly, I let Shane know that if she’s really not up for it, that’s not a problem: we can turn around and head back.
Shane opts to tackle the Step and we move on. I move around her depending on where I can offer the best support and most protection. There’s a slight shake in her hands and a tremor in her legs as she climbs down into the gap and out the other side, but it’s done.
As anyone who’s climbed Blencathra this way will know, the end of Sharp Edge is not quite the end of the scrambling. Beyond the arête the route encounters more vertical terrain, climbing up the edge of Foule Crag via a network of shallow gullies and ledges until it meets more level ground on Atkinson Pike, from where it’s an easy stroll, surrounded by expansive Lakeland scenery, to Blencathra’s high point on Hallsfell Top.
Once again, I drop behind for this final clamber, directing from below while simultaneously acting as a reassuring barrier between her and the exposure. But she’s looking far less nervous now. Her initiation on the ridge has taught her that she can do this, that she’s capable of more than she thought. And she’s smiling.
Sharp Edge: A first-timer’s perspective
“Come out on a shoot,” they said. “We’ll take it nice and easy,” they said. Sounded simple enough. Until, that is, the day turned out to be one of those late autumn ‘get it before it’s gone’ brilliant sunshine October days. Which meant the pre-walk tea stop found the gang getting excited about the possibilities now afforded to them, and plans were swiftly upgraded to include Sharp Edge.
“It’s at least as wide as this table,” said Tom. “We can always rope you,” added Ben. What was I letting myself in for?! This is how I found myself clinging to a Grade 1 ridge on my first ever time up a mountain. Was I scared? Umm, not really? I was confident my fitness wouldn’t let me down, I’d never had a problem with heights before, and (most importantly) I had total faith in my Trail team-mates.
Yes, it was higher and steeper and narrower than Tom’s ‘reassuring’ comments of earlier, but once you’re on it there really is no going back. So head down (but don’t look down) and get on with it was my mantra. I couldn’t have done it without Ben though – a total superstar who patiently guided me hand and foot every step of the (frankly amazing and life-affirming) way. And I’m chuffed to say no ropes were needed. Would I do it again? Hell yeah! Crib Goch, I’m looking at you…
Fancy trying this scramble yourself? Here's our step-by-step guide to Sharp Edge. You might also be interested in our beginner's guide to scrambling.
Nine great beginner scrambles
Lake District
Matt Le Voi, Lakeland Mountain Guides:
Striding Edge, Hellvellyn: “Despite its reputation, this ridge offers a fab training ground. An excellent mix of climbing upwards, downwards and traversing, with multiple lines of difficulty to be sought. Enjoy yourself and tag on a descent down Swirral Edge.”
Hall's Fell Ridge, Blencathra: “Often overlooked due to Sharp Edge being so close, but not only is it the finest direct route to any summit in the Lake District, it offers lots of little challenges as a great warm-up for something like Sharp Edge. But much like Sharp Edge, it’s not ideal in the wet.”
Long Crag, Coniston: “A short escapade but super accessible from the village of Coniston. Great for building confidence and route-finding skills. Harder options are available on this crag too.”
Snowdonia
Rob Johnson, Expedition Guide:
Daear Ddu Ridge, Moel Siabod: “A nice aesthetic line, but where all of the steep bits are easily avoided if you need to. There are some great sections for coaching movement skills and route-finding, and the route is often quiet, so beginners don’t feel rushed.”
Gribin Ridge, Glyder Fawr: “A lovely ridge that can be scrambled direct to give more excitement to someone who is really enjoying it, or is easily escapable if they are not. It also works well in the wet, as the holds are big and the quality of the rock good.”
North Ridge, Tryfan: “An iconic line and a benchmark Grade 1 with great scrambling. I know the mountain well, so can tailor the route to the ability of the person I’m with as it has so many options and escape lines.”
Scotland
Scott Kirkhope, Kirkhope Mountaineering:
Ledge Route, Ben Nevis: “A great way to reach the summit of Ben Nevis and avoid the crowds. There are a couple of different route choices to consider, which means you can either make it a bit harder or easier to match people’s abilities and challenge levels.”
Fiacaill Ridge, Cairn Gorm: “A short but interesting route onto the Cairngorm plateau, with the option to add a Munro or two. Sticking to the crest gives the best and most interesting line, but it’s escapable onto easier ground on the right at many points.”
Full Traverse, Liathach: “One of the classic Scottish mainland ridge traverses. The most fun and best exposure is on the crest, but there are plenty of options to bypass difficult steps if needed.”
About the author
Ben Weeks has been with Trail for over 10 years and is our main point of contact for a lot of our gear reviews. As well as being a hugely talented writer and photographer, Ben is also a qualified Mountain Leader and climbing instructor.
Along with walking, scrambling and wild camping, he loves gnarly Scottish winter routes so is a master at putting cold weather kit through its paces.