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Climbing through gorges, jumping into waterfalls and using fixed metal cableways to help novices climb cliffs used to be the reserve of continental mountain ranges. But now it’s come to Yorkshire, and as Helen Ochyra finds out, you soon forget the cold…
how stean gorge
It turns out we should have been praying for rain. This would have warmed up the water, my instructor Tony Liddy tells me, and so perhaps I wouldn’t be dancing my way over slippery rocks in the vain hope of finding a dry spot while he looks on, one eyebrow raised.

This water is in the bottom of How Stean Gorge, and it has been underground for weeks, if not months. No sun has touched it, no warm rain has diluted it – it is bone-chillingly cold. It is also what we plan to be in for the next few hours.

Jumping Off

The best way to explore How Stean Gorge is to scramble through it. And so my husband Douglas, Tony and I have abseiled down into the gorge from a metal bridge that is now some 14 metres above our heads. We had been slightly nervous about the abseil – peering off the bridge with uncertainty – but it turned out that this was actually the easy part and lowering myself down takes less than a minute.

It takes Tony less time still to convince me that jumping straight in is the best way to overcome the cold – moving, after all, is always the best way to warm up. And so we line up one by one at the side of a large pothole, swirling with dark, cold water, and throw ourselves backwards into it, straight-legged with arms folded.

It is exhilarating. Like those trust exercises now swimming back to me through my memory from school, it takes a leap of faith to just lean back and now I know that I can do this, I feel that I can do anything.

We spend the next few minutes scrambling over rocks and pulling ourselves up onto ledges, fighting against the flow of water all the time. I struggle in some places to find a reliable foothold, or to swing my knee high enough to pull myself up onto a ledge, but somehow I can always find a way – it feels like I am winning.

Meeting the Natives

But this is not man against nature, this is man communing with nature, and so we stop to watch a water vole dart into the water from the gorge side and to see if a motionless frog will ever brave moving from its rocky perch. When we reach How Stean tunnel, switching on lamps to light our way, we peer into webs at the spiders that made them and watch the water running down the sheer limestone rockface on either side of us, forming calcite ridges and eventually straws that hang down from the rock, a suspended droplet of water seemingly forever at their tips.

I have forgotten the cold. We are constantly moving, exploring what I can now see is one giant adventure playground. At the furthest reaches of the gorge, which is almost a kilometre in length, Tony tells us to sit down in the flow of the water and form a dam. We giggle over wedged in bottoms and limbs that are not quite fat enough to stem the flow before finally getting ourselves into a position to stop the water. It builds up quickly behind us and Tony gives the thumbs up to let go – the next thing I know I am splashing into a deep pool at the end of a natural waterslide, a giant grin on my face.

Getting High

It is time to leave the water, but not the gorge itself. We may have seen the limestone walls from their base, but we haven’t viewed the gorge from above – and this is the vantage point from which it can be truly appreciated.

Any visitor to How Stean can walk to the top of the gorge and stand on a plateau overlooking it, but for the best view the only way is the “iron road”, or via ferrata.

Via ferrata originated in the Alps as a way of accessing places that would be impossible on two feet alone and were used by soldiers in both world wars to carry supplies across the mountains. A steel cable (that “iron road”) is attached to the rock at regular intervals and climbers can clip onto this to prevent a large fall.

Today, via ferrata has been adopted as an adventure activity and How Stean opened the UK’s second via ferrata course (the first is at Honister slate mine in the Lake District) in 2009. This year they have added an extension that really tests the mettle of those brave enough to try it – and today that includes me.

Despite my adventures in the water, I am not feeling all that brave as Tony clips us on to what he says is an easy section. This runs along a low rocky ledge for about 20 metres and is my chance to get used to the carabiners and ropes. Anyone who has worn a harness before will not struggle with this and there is plenty of room for error – there are two carabiners and only one is ever clipped off at any one time.

On a via ferrata you are constantly attached and this turns out to be the ultimate freedom. The first section of the via ferrata proper involves a straightforward balance beam across the gorge and with no fear of falling off I can run across here without worrying about keeping my balance. Next up is a scramble between overhanging rocks, no risk of slipping off, and then the first of many metal hoops, nailed into the rockface to provide foot and hand holds.

Trust Exercise

Unfortunately I find it hard to trust them. Well, actually, I find it hard to trust myself. I cannot believe that one limb will reach far enough and find myself straining every muscle to get between one and the next. Although I know I am clipped on, the rope is still long enough to allow a short fall and so I cannot resist clipping myself to a metal loop in the rock by the extra short rope provided “just in case” to ensure no fall at all.

This also allows a rest and is where via ferrata really comes into its own. Because I am clipped on, I can stop whenever I need to, regathering my energy to climb the next sheer rock wall and reach ever-dizzier heights. I can get high up into the trees and peer down through the foliage at this beautiful landscape, the rushing water gushing over large rocks.

The via ferrata is also the only way to get above the gorge itself. The new extension zigzags across the water, crossing it three times on a series of steel cables up to nine metres high. Although I am exhausted from the climb up to this point, I find walking on these easier. My boots grip better to the cable than they did to the rock and my head for heights finally finds kicks in – with no fear of falling I can leap and bound across the gorge in the open air.

The final section of the via ferrata is a Tyrolean traverse and it will see us safely across the gorge for the final time. I clip myself to it and sit back on the ropes to let the pulley system take me across the gorge. All muscle ache forgotten I sit back and enjoy the ride – and the beautiful Yorkshire scenery.
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