<Eddie_Waring_Voice> “eeehh…aaayyee…it’s an up and under.” </Eddie_Waring_voice> (Wave your mouse over the pix for captions).
“Why don’t we go down Swildons as well?” … and so the concept of the ‘up and under’ was born. Chris Arnold and I had been mulling the possibility of doing Coronation Street for ages and with the summer climbing ban starting again soon, we decided it was about time to do it.
Cheddar Gorge
was to be the venue for the first part – Bonington’s 1965 route “Coronation
Street” – E1 4b,4a,5b,5a,5b,4c - all 450’ of it. A few e-mails were exchanged
in the weeks 
prior and the anticipation
became unbearable as we’d both had this on our hit list for some time. We planned
to climb on a Friday to stand some chance of avoiding the crowds.
Chris arrived at about 18:30 on the Thursday night and we loaded his kit into the Mondeo and headed west along the M27, arriving in Priddy about 21:15. We got a key to the Upper Pitts and after dumping kit off, walked (quickly) down to the Queen Vic for a few beers. 4 pints of 6X later, we walked back (slower) to the Wessex and crawled into our pits, the alarm set for 07:00. We were awake when the alarm went off and set about a fry up. The weather looked good and was forecast to stay dry if cold with a brisk wind from the west. This would make the climb cold. The cliffs of Cheddar were devoid of any human life, although it’s not that surprising as it was both early and cold – about 7C with a fresh breeze blowing up the gorge. We parked next to the road in the car park under High Rock and donned coats in an effort to remain warm. Ropes were untangled and gear laid out and selected. We’d run the first two pitches together to save time.
The route appeared
dry with the first two pitched a bit vegetated. I set off and placed a piece
at about 20’. The climbing was not hard but I took it steady. Passing the first
belay, the gear started to improve and I began to enjoy it. I formed a hanging
belay at the top of a groove and brought Chris up. Gear was sorted and he set
off up the steep start to the pitch. The rock quality improves here and the
climb opens up. A small roof formed the stiff but well protected crux and Chris
formed a belay on a ledge a bit higher. I followed and was soon on the ledge
b
eside him. Gear was again sorted
and I looked up at the ‘Shield’ pitch - comparatively short at about 50’. The
first part is a flared crumbly crack with no gear. At about 
20’, a horizontal break
is reached which takes some carefully placed cams. I placed two, the second
as far out to the left as I could. Looking out to the left, the climb continued
and I could make out the belay some 30’ away. However, the pitch consisted of
a slightly overhanging hand traverse with little for the feet above - well -
air - about 300’ of it to the car park below. “Just go for it” shouted Chris
from below and I had no choice. I stepped out onto a small sloping shiny lip
and moved across, placing a further cam. From here, there were no footholds
and I hung back on my arms with feet smeared on the polished limestone. A couple
of ‘goey’ moves and I heelhooked a lip and pulled round the corner below the
groove of the next pitch and clipped into the rusty trio of pegs adding a further
two pieces behind the loose block and a cam in the base of the crack. With this
lot equalised and a further peg clipped, I sat back hanging in space looking
at Chris some 40’ away down to my right. He was pissing into space!
Chris climbed
to join me and look at the next pitch - the crux, following a steep groove for
about 70’. Chris set off steadily as I struggled to remain comfortable on the
hanging belay. A strenuous mixture of bridging (some quite wide) and jamming
is required, particularly after the roof but the gear is good and eventually
a ledge is reached with a few pegs and other good placements. I stripped the
belay, well pleased to be on the move again and set off up the groove. I was
puffing well by the time I stepped round onto the small ledge – just enough
for two to stand side by side with a fantastic view down to the car park, now
some 400 feet below. We swapped and sorted gear. The wind could now be felt
and Chris grizzled about it. The route description for the final pitch fluttered
off into the breeze before we’d read it and the groove immediately above the
stance appeared vegetated, gnarly and uninviting. I made a couple of attempts
to start it 
before
looking out right. The rock was steep and slabby and the climbing looked hard
but turned out to be easier with some good technical moves – a complete contrast
to the crux. After 30’or so, the angle eased and I scrambled up to the top.
There were trees 40’ back and I belayed to these and sat on the edge to bring
Chris up.
It was cold but there
was a fantastic view out to the east over Cheddar Reservoir. Chris came up grinning.
The route down was far from obvious and we ended up scrambling down limestone scree and traversing round some big drops (still in rock shoes) to emerge onto the road some 400yards down the gorge. We’d warmed up a bit by now and set about sorting gear. The route had taken just under four hours and is a great bit of route finding through some very steep rock. We headed back into Priddy and as the Queen Vic was closed, imbibed a welcome pint of Butcombe at the New Inn.
We went over to Holcombe Quarry later for some bolt clipping but it was so cold, neither of us wanted to take coats off and the thought of clipping bolts was a bit of an anticlimax! We headed back to the Wessex to clean up before heading to the Queen Vic for food and a significant amount of ale.
As
I regained 
consciousness the
next morning, I recognised Fumpa’s black and orange rucsac by the bunk opposite
- he’d arrived in the early hours. We got some brekky and headed off to Main’s
Barn on Priddy Green. Ageing neoprene was stretched over ageing bodies accompanied
by characteristically weak grizzlings. Fumpa had only dry gear (having tried
unsuccessfully to force himself into an abandoned wetsuit at the Wessex). Photos
were taken and we set off for Swildons. Neither of us had done a round trip
for 12 years or more so this was going to be fun! The stream was fairly low
but we were soon damp as the shower bath was going well. A small party slowed
us at the 20’ but we were soon away through double pots and the water rift to
Tratman’s where we left the streamway for St. Paul’s series. From here, things
get gruntier and we were soon flat out through the blasted boss. The mud sump,
somewhat recently restored to bailable conditions was pretty empty and Chris
was soon through. Fumpa next – more gingerly. I didn’t envy him having to lay
down and duck under in dry gear. He whimpered a bit but didn’t make too much
fuss. Greasy Chimney was as slippery as we remembered it and 
Fumpa had warmed up again
as we crossed Blue Pencil Passage and approached the first of the troubles.
Chris was in like a rat up a drainpipe but was soon out again as it was pretty
full. We bailed a few bucketfuls and kissing the roof, I got through. The second
trouble had a couple of inches airspace and was passed easily. Fumpa was cold
now so we didn’t hang around. Bang squeeze was passed but the following duck
was very low - tighter and awkward. This brought us into the Doomed Grotto and
Glistening Gallery. Chris had some fun in Birthday squeeze – ‘a little broader
across the shoulders’ – his words not mine! The following duck was also low
but involved Fumpa in a further soaking. Vicarage passage was passed to the
sound of Fumpa's chattering teeth and we dropped down the corkscrew and slid
down the landing to the Swildons 2 streamway. Upstream from here through Creep
1 and duck 1 to the sump. Chris went through first, followed by Fumpa - brave
or bananas? – either way, cold! We set off for the surface without further delay,
emerging into the cold light of day after 3 hours. Changing in Maine’s barn
brought the circulation back to Fumpa’s system and we retired to the Queen Vic
for further celebratory ales, followed by the Hunters for food and more ales
– the ‘up and under’ complete.