GLISSADING DOWN PIERS GHYLL.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2662, 2 June 1908, Page 7

GLISSADING DOWN PIERS GHYLL.

"A MASS OF BUMPS AND

BRUISES." '

The advice of the well-known mathematician, the late R. Pendlebuty, was, "Never glissade down a slope unless you have ascended it just previously." Many years ago I thoughtlessly began glissading down the long slope towards Piers Ghyll, on Scawfell Pike, despite the remonstrances of the seniors of the party. ,

; All went well for a few yards, but j the surface of the snow became icy |as I slid past below the sdiade of 1 sonxj high rocks. The speed grew alarming, and suddenly my feet sank through a transverse crack almost like a small incipient bergschrund which ran across the slope. I The result was startling. The sudden stoppage of the feet upset ray i balance conii'iet'jl.y, and after describing some ungainly gyrations, I went • crashing down head first towards some rocks straight ahead. Verily II was on the horns of a dilemma, I but a c;i lick glance to the right showled that the slope was longer in that I direction.

Fortunatefly my ice-axe was still retained, and by somewhat convulsive steering I was able to make for this, it would at least afford a further respite. However, hope brightened during the final rush, for the gradient appeared to ease off at the bottom. The slope did not belie its appearance, but the impetus gained above was sufficient to sweep me over the easier' point, and I made a precipitate acquaintance with the screes beyond the snow.

But the end was not yet. The sudden stop caused me to describe an undignified series of somersaults in mid-air, during which performance my ice-axe arose and smote me between the eyes. Then there was peace for a time. My next view of the snow slope was some minutes later, when consciousness returned, and I discerned my companions hurrying forward. My wounded forehead bled profusely, and no doubt my friends' worried looks were ful'ly warranted, for the sight must have been a gory one. Strange to say no bones were broken, but for several days T felt like a mass af humps and bruises.—From ("The Complete Mountaineer," by G. D. Abraham.