Hurnel Moss Pot.
On
the whole, it looked, as if it was going to turn out to he a Wallies trip (If I
can coin this phrase without causing too much upset in the club, not to mention
a nervous twitch for Charlie Spurr.) Derek, Steve, myself & half a ton of
gear had set out to do Hurnel Moss Pot, which lies up by Gaping Gill. Locating
the entrance was proving difficult, but after sampling a particularly
unpleasant entrance, wandering about the fells for half an hour - like pratts,
we finally found it.
The
square cut entrance leads after a short crawl to 25 foot pitch, which we
laddered. This short pitch lands on a boulder slope, where we geared up for
Poseidon pitch - which is 200 feet broken by a mega ledge, 100 foot down.
Traversing out into the shaft, I hung the rope on some Whernside Manor bolts
then started to abseil down. The pitch is in a massive, clean washed rift,
which really impressed me. Landing on the ledge I waited for the others to
descend then set off down the second part of the pitch, which lands in a big
boulder strewn chamber. The others again rejoined me and we had a quick explore
round the chamber before following the water down a rift. After a short pitch
the passage meanders for a way then closes down into a piddly sump.
The
inward journey of Hurnel Moss had been short but sweet. The journey out was a
bit more exciting. Steve clipped on to the first part of the 200’ & made
his way up. When he reached the ledge, I started up. By the time, I reached the
ledge, Steve was at the top of the 200. Clipping in to the second half of the
climb I started my way up. Suddenly there was a bang from somewhere up above, a
whistling sound, then a great deal of pain in my chin as my left leg
interrupted the flight path of a four inch, circular boulder. My groans echoed
round the chamber. Derek, who by now had prussiked up to the ledge, de-rigged
and offered much needed encouragement as I one footed it up the top 100 foot. Another
rock whistled by. The feeling of being stuck 50 foot up a rope whilst at any moment a rock could hit you, is to
put it in a nutshell, bloody frightening. Derek will testify to this because
two boulders whistled past while he was ascending the pitch.
Derek
was last up and de-rigged, whilst I was one legging it up the 25 foot ladder,
thankfully life lined by Steve, a task which proved quite interesting. Where
the falling rocks came from exactly is a mystery, because Steve swore blind
that nothing fell from where he was. After getting out of the hole, we had one
slight problem: I could
hardly put any weight on my left
foot. With that and all the gear we made
little to no progress. Luckily however, we met some kind hearted walkers, who
half carried me to
Other
than falling rocks, I would recommend Hurnel Moss as an excellent short S.R.T.
trip.
Andrew Lomax.