LAKE DISTRICT
The infamous scramble up PAVEY ARK in the Lake District has two sides. One is darkly dangerous, the other is an utter joy… which will Jack’s Rake have in store for us?
For hillwalkers with a liking for rocky routes, Jack’s Rake is a household name. But there’s one thing no one seems to agree on. How hard it is. Wainwright famously said it was “just about the limit that the ordinary fell walker may be expected to attempt”. A local guide warned us that it was more a Grade 2 scramble in parts with loose rock, and he wouldn’t take clients on it without a rope and helmets.
And yet, it’s generally regarded as a Grade 1 scramble, a rite of passage for Lakeland lovers, with thousands of people scampering up it with no problems at all, including our Trail photographer’s son at the age of 12 (who, by the way, made mincemeat of it!). It seems that this route is a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde… So of course, there was only one thing to do. Go climb it.
The truth is, the eastern cliff of Pavey Ark, rising almost vertically from the shore of Stickle Tarn, is intimidating. When we got there I could just about make out a silhouette of someone on its upper reaches, looking uncomfortably precarious. I’m not sure the photos do it justice. Pavey Ark is 700m high and from the top it’s a 220m sheer drop to the tarn. Jack’s Rake is a cleft that runs diagonally across the face, providing an unlikely passage west of Pavey Ark’s summit. It’s very definitely something you don’t want to fall off, with a drop of around 50 houses high and nothing much to stop you on the way down.
Many of those who come a cropper on Jack’s Rake do so in wet conditions, where the polished route becomes greasy and slippery. But following a very dry spring in the Lakes and on a clear sunny day, the conditions were ideal. We were nicely warmed up from the pleasant ghyll-side approach from Stickle Ghyll car park less than 2km below, but my mind had been whirling. Should we have brought helmets? Was I up for the exposure? How loose would it be?
Circling the tarn to reach the base of the scramble, it was impossible to tear my eyes away from what lay ahead. The closer I got, the crazier a proposition it seemed. A short steep section of scree deposited me at the base of the scramble. The angle of the rake from afar looked about 45° – looking up from below, it looked a lot steeper. A series of rocky steps narrowed into a tight gully, making it look like a secret passage up the mountain. A stairway to the heavens. Tentatively at first, I began the ascent. Concentrating on the rock ahead of me,
