Ian Robertson revisits Colin Kirkus’ influential little book.

Many of you may have climbed a “Kirkus” route at some point in your climbing career. Put up by Welsh-rock supremo Colin Kirkus in the 1930s, they were test pieces of their time; and anyone going on one these days is usually guaranteed a great day’s climbing.

What’s not so well known, is that in 1939 Kirkus was asked to write a book by the publishers Nelson. Intended as part of a series for “young people” (the term teenager wasn’t to be invented for another two decades), his book Let’s Go Climbing! was to become one of the most influential mountaineering books ever written. With its devotees even including a certain Joe Brown and Don Whillans.

Back in the 1930s, climbing was a very different sport from that of today. There were no runners, gear was almost unheard of, and when the Germans put a piton onto the east face of Tryfan there was a national outcry. It’s almost unthinkable today, but in this hazardous background Kirkus was asked to pull together a book that would encourage kids to take up the sport.

His finished book was a tremendous piece of inspirational writing. In Colin Wells’ words, Let’s Go Climbing! “would make the parents of any middle-class 1940s schoolchild happy to send their adorable little bunny off to tackle the Eigerwand.” Part of the reason for its appeal is his sheer enthusiasm coupled with a very British hardiness. Here he is, persuading people that bivvying out in winter is no bad thing:

“Isn’t it boring sleeping every night in a bed? Don’t you sometimes long for a change? Wouldn’t you like to lie and see the stars above you, or sleep like a polar bear in the snow? Possibly not – you think it sounds too cold. But it need not be; with correct equipment you can keep warm under the most severe conditions.

One winter’s night I cycled up to a climbers’ cottage in the Ogwen Valley. The place was empty and locked-up when I arrived. The key was at the farm; but it was after midnight and I did not want to waken them, so I decided to sleep out in the open. It was a cold night – cold enough to freeze the stream. I put on all my clothes and looked around for a suitable site. The only sheltered spot seemed to be the rubbish dump, which was enclosed on three sides. So I lay down amongst the tins. Luckily the smells also were frozen up.

The greatest discomfort was the large stone which I had for a pillow. Now and again, when I began to feel chilled, I would stroll about a little. I was never miserably cold, and managed to get quite a fair amount of sleep. I felt fresh enough in the morning. It was a lovely day and two of us spent the next night in sleeping bags on the top of Snowdon. We slept in the snow, in 12 degrees of frost, but our bags kept us as warm as toast.

These were bivouacs. If you drag a large tent out of a car and sleep in camp beds, that may be camping, but it is not bivouacking. A bivouac is a resting-place for the night. Sometimes it enables you to do a climb that is too far away from ordinary sleeping places; sometimes, in an emergency, it is just a case of somehow keeping alive until the morning. But I like to bivouac for the fun of the thing. It is grand to wander over the mountains with a sleeping bag, never having to worry about the time, just lying down in the snow when it gets dark.

You will need a good eiderdown sleeping bag to do this. The colder it is, within reason, the better. If it is below freezing point you won’t get wet, even if it snows. The snow underneath you will keep dry as well. But if it isn’t freezing, and there is any chance of rain or wet snow, you will need a light tent as well. Special bivouac tents are made, with wide flaps, so that they can be fastened down with stones.

Snow is uncomfortable stuff to sleep upon; it soon turns to ice underneath you, and gets almost as lumpy as a Welsh farmhouse bed. But you will have to put up with these little hardships. I have camped many times by Clogwyn d’ur Arddu, that grandest of Welsh cliffs. It is wonderful seeing the moonlight on the crags; they look huge and ghostly, and every detail stands out in the silvery light. We used to pitch our tent right beneath the rocks, and the top looked like a jagged ridge of pinnacles, towering up into the sky. We felt ready for anything after such a night – even a new climb on “Cloggy.”

Publication of Let’s Go Climbing! was delayed by the outbreak of the Second World War, but it was eventually published in 1941. Unfortunately, Colin Kirkus did not live to see how popular his little book was to become, as he was one of the casualties of that great conflict, killed as an RAF navigator in September 1942. After the horrors of war, the British climbing scene took several great leaps forward. The easy availability of army surplus karabiners certainly made climbing a lot safer. Let’s Go Climbing! was to play its part too. Tucked away on one of its picture plates was a picture of a climb on Cloggy, the first pitch of Curving Crack. Joe Brown saw this picture and was inspired to visit the cliff. The rest, as they say, is history.

Unfortunately Let’s Go Climbing! was also destined to become history. Nelson last republished the book in 1960, by then its technical sections had become grossly, even dangerously out of date. The advent of nylon ropes and protection had made climbing a very different game from Kirkus’ era. This was a shame, as the rest of the book is timeless.

So, British climbing is due Colin Kirkus a debt for two wonderful legacies: the first is his collection of brilliant climbs, particularly in Wales, that are still classics to this day. The second is for his book, still arguably one of the most inspired climbing books ever written. Rippingyarns.com took on the task of republishing Let’s Go Climbing! at last in 2004, as part of their classic mountaineering series. And perhaps in today’s frenetic modern world, Colin Kirkus’ simple guidance and relaxing attitude is more valid than ever. As he famously said to his friend Alf Bridge on top of Sgurr Alasdair on Skye, “You know, Alf, going to the right place, at the right time, with the right people is all that really matters. What one does is purely incidental.”

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