One of AW’s longest correspondences, again with someone he never met, was with Margaret Ainley. Almost from the beginning he was very affectionate, if not quite as saucy as in his letters to Molly, except on rare occasions. Perhaps it was because she was a young married woman, a primary school teacher aged twenty-seven. She was living in Brighouse, Yorkshire, with her husband Richard, an industrial chemist, who worked for Nu Swift, fire extinguishers. In her second letter, she reveals she is pregnant.
The letters began in 1971, when she wrote to say that it was now possible to reach Spout Force without the need for a machete, and continued for twenty years, right up to 1990, by which time the second generation Ainleys had taken over, as their daughter Catherine was now writing to AW. Altogether, they received thirty-three AW letters.
Margaret told AW about their walks, her family, sent him photos, and AW always responded enthusiastically, telling of his holidays with Betty and the books he was working on.
c/o The Westmorland Gazette, KENDAL
20th March 1971
Dear Mrs Ainley,
Thank you so much for your very kind letter.
Correspondents are, as a rule, quick to tell me where my books have gone wrong, but nobody, until now, has written to give me up to date information about Spout Force, and I was still under the impression that you couldn’t approach it without a machete and heavy armour. So I am grateful for your news and propose to adopt your welcome suggestion that the subject should be included in a future Sketchbook (which would give me the opportunity of an explanatory note) – but it will have to be in the Fourth, not the Third which is already finished and at the printer’s.
Your other suggestion, about the Yorkshire Dales, is, I fear, beyond my powers, which are declining fast although I am currently working on a guidebook to the Howgill Fells (near Sedbergh, in case you have never heard of them) and planning a Dales Sketchbook. I’m getting old, that’s the trouble. How I wish tempus wouldn’t fugit so much!
Thank you again for writing, and for finding the time and taking the trouble to do so. And for doing it so nicely.
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
c/o The Westmorland Gazette, KENDAL
6th October 1971
Dear Mrs Ainley,
It was a pleasure to hear from you again and learn, amongst other interesting facts, the thrilling news written at the very end of your letter – almost as a postscript (although I am sure it takes first place in your mind!)
I haven’t yet re-battled my way to Spout Force but have every intention of doing so to get an illustration for a book I am currently preparing. Just lately I have been exploring (of all places) the North York Moors from a base in Whitby and next week I am gong to Helmsley for a few days to continue the operation. This does not imply a desertion of the places we love most of all but is merely a temporary distraction to enable me to complete a guide to a long walk right across the north of England, from St. Bees Head to Robin Hood’s Bay. I must admit, however, that I found the heather moors of Cleveland extremely attractive and colourful when I was there last month.
The Howgill book is finished and at the printers. I enjoyed doing this immensely. Whether it will sell or not is open to doubt. In the twelve months I spend in the area I did not see more than a score of other walkers, and then only in the vicinity of Sedbergh and Cautley. Everywhere else is wilderness populated only by ponies and sheep, but if you like solitude the Howgills are hand-tailored for you. Walking on these lonely hills is quite delightful. The book will be out next Easter.
I am so glad you found the limestone area to your liking, apart from the bulls and the thistles. I hope your expedition to Smearsett Scar included a visit to the Celtic Wall which I personally found very impressive. I return the transparency herewith after noting with satisfaction that the subjects included not only Margaret Ainley, the cairn, the Ordnance column, but also her favourite guidebook to the area.
Now you must wait in patience to see what news next April brings. I applaud your resolve to get Ainley junior on the hills as soon as he or she can walk, or even earlier – you see so many babies being happily carried over the tops in rucksacks these days. I hope you have many many happy seasons on the hills in future, and I am sure you will find that three can be very good company.
With very best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
c/o The Westmorland Gazette, KENDAL
27th May 1972
Dear Margaret,
I regret having delayed my congratulations so long. Yes, I fully realise that the birth of Catherine is the most wonderful thing that ever happened and I agree absolutely that it is, no doubt about it; yet I have other pre-occupations that have pressed me for attention since you sent me the glad tidings and only now can I find time to say how pleased I was with your news. I am sorry it has taken me so long to get round to it. However, Catherine, although a bright little thing, is yet too young to be hurt by my apparent indifference; and her mother will, I hope, understand.
Thank you for letting me know. Now all energies must be concentrated on a plan of campaign for getting her to the top of Smearsett Scar before the end of 1972. It can be done by concerted effort. It must be done.
By a coincidence, I had another letter in the same post as yours from a man whose firstborn has just entered this world, in which he says that his prime object is to get his new son to bag a peak before he can walk, and he is adapting his rucksack as a mobile cot for this purpose. Something of the sort is surely not beyond Dick!
Your account of a winter weekend in the Lakes in January made excellent reading, and you are to be complimented on a sterling performance with the odds weighted heavily (if you don’t mind me saying so) against you. I suppose it is true to say that Catherine has already been over Sty Head Pass although she won’t remember much about it. Someday soon you must take her there again and let her see the scene of her first fell-walk, carried all the way. Wasdale Head in winter is impressive, and I am glad you saw it in the right conditions.
I look forward to receiving an account of Catherine’s first visit to a summit. And when she is old enough to have a rucksack of her very own, I hope you will let me provide it.
You have many days on the hills to look forward to, the three of you. I trust they are all happy ones.
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
Margaret wrote back to ask if when Catherine was old enough, she could come to his house and collect the rucksack. Almost by return post, a parcel arrived from AW containing a little rucksack. Despite all the personal chat and affection, AW dreaded the idea of strangers arriving at his house.
c/o The Westmorland Gazette, KENDAL
14th September 1972
Dear Margaret,
Thank you for your letter giving advance information about the proposed Great Five-Man All-British Expedition to Smearsett Scar. I look forward to a detailed and illustrated account in due course. I hope you are all good runners: a correspondent has reported a bull on that part of the approach route known as The Happy Valley. But I am sure that, after all the preliminary preparations and planning already done, nothing, repeat nothing, will be allowed to prevent a successful accomplishment of your objective. Catherine’s first peak!
I can imagine the wonderful day you had on the Howgills. I have had many such; days of wonderful visibility under clear skies, days of fine walking across the tops. The view from The Calf is, in my opinion, the most extensive in the country.
I am glad to know that Catherine is thriving, and I have no doubt at all that she is a lovely child. Yes, the rucksack came from me: it wasn’t quite the type I wanted, but the only small one they had. Catherine herself, I thought, would fit snugly inside it until she is big enough to wear it.
I was having a week at Fort William, and tomorrow we are off to a rented cottage near Loch Carron for yet another visit to my beloved Wester Ross, where some of the mountains are even higher than Smearsett Scar.
I cannot wait to hear that this redoubtable summit has again been conquered. I think, in the circumstances, you may be forgiven if you scratch the initials ‘C.A. 1972’ on the Ordnance column. It would have an historical significance to a few of us.
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
c/o The Westmorland Gazette, KENDAL
8th November 1972
Dear Margaret, Dick and Catherine
A conquest indeed! An epic in the annals of mountaineering!
Considering the immaturity and inexperience of a vital member of the expedition, and the hazards met and overcome on the journey, I cannot but rank your successful ascent of Smearsett Scar with Whymper’s climb on the Matterhorn; in fact, since it was accomplished without loss of life, I think your performance was even more epic. Now for the North Face of the Eiger. Are you listening, Cath?
The photographs without exception are quite delightful, and they illustrate graphically the dangers of the terrain, the supreme moment of achievement, the exhaustion of certain members on the return to base camp. I return them in haste: Half Brighouse must be panting to see them.
History has been made. No doubt about that!
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
c/o The Westmorland Gazette, KENDAL
21st January 1975
Dear Margaret,
Thank you for your letter and New Year greetings. It was nice to hear from you again and have an up to date report on Catherine’s latest peak-bagging successes. The youthful conqueror of Smearset Scar is obviously destined for much greater heights. Catbells and Knott Rigg are merely stepping-stones to bigger and better fells, and I confidently expect to hear from you within the next two years that Great Gable and Scafell Pike have succumbed to her tireless feet. It won’t be long before her parents are puffing along in the rear. Even so, she is going to have to pull up her socks to beat the record of one of my correspondents, this being a little girl of six years, from Southport, who wrote to say she had climbed all the 214 fells in the seven books, and last week sent me further word that, now at nine years of age, she had done them all a second time.
I am the very last person you should ask for advice on the pronunciation of Gaelic place-names. I simply have no idea. In fact, I have been badly cut down to size by a Scottish reviewer of the book, who considers me down right rude in suggesting a simplification of the names of the Scottish mountains. No, love, it’s no use asking me. Is there no Scotsman amongst your acquaintances who could help? I sometimes think the reason for the great popularity of Ben Nevis is its simple name; walkers do like to be able to say where they’ve been! One advantage of Gaelic names, the only one that I can see, is that you can adopt your own pronunciation without much fear of contradiction from others who have no idea either and may even come to look upon you with respectful awe.
The second book is being delayed because I am frenetically engaged on a 500-page saga of Westmorland at the present time, but I hope to resume Scotland during the coming summer. When Catherine has polished off everything in Lakeland, you too should cast your sights further north. I should be the last to decry Lakeland, but how flat it seems when you are returning from Wester Ross! This sounds like sacrilege, and of course Lakeland is lovelier by far; but I think a measure of solitude is essential for a full appreciation of mountain scenery and Lakeland is terribly overrun by tourists while the western and northern Highlands are still, for the most part, quite virgin and immeasurably grander than anything between Keswick and Windermere. When Catherine is able to spread her wings a little more and becomes determined to ascend Ben Nevis, I will let you have some useful addresses.
Keep me posted on her progress. I enjoy hearing from you.
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
38 Kendal Green, KENDAL
5th March 1975
Dear Margaret,
Since you have discovered that I live in a house and not in a room at the Gazette office there seems little point in further pretence. Yes, write to me here if you prefer but don’t get too affectionate; my wife grabs the post first.
So they are Sgoor nan Eech and Sgoor nan Clash yeala slurred together. Clever of you to ferret this out, and from no less authority than Hamish Brown, the man whose review of my book in ‘Mountain Life’ left me squirming with rage and humiliation. What right have I, from south of the Border, to criticise Gaelic spellings and pronunciation: what rot the fellow writes; what a cheek to suggest a Royal Commission to agree on uniformity of Scottish mountain names; what if there are five ways of spelling a name for ‘white mountain’ – the Scots understand and like it that way; I am quite wrong in thinking Blencathra and Glaramara are sweeter-sounding names. And so on, and so on…. Mind you, I was expecting criticism of this sort. I suppose I was being cheeky. But I still think that life should be made more tolerable for earnest English mountain-lovers in the Highlands. On the mountains, more than anywhere, there should be no closed shops. If you have now got really pally with Hamish, you can tell him so.
But for Hamish the mountaineer I have the greatest respect. The enclosed cutting will tell you why. All the Munros in one long walk! Now there is an objective for the Ainleys when Catherine gets in the tiger class. I’m glad, though, that you have set your sights on the Highlands. When Catherine sets foot on the summit of Liathach (Leegak) Smearsett Scar will seem almost a shameful incident in her life. You have some wonderful years ahead of you.
Incredibly I managed two Munros myself last summer in a glorious week based on Glen Affric, a feat of which I am inordinately proud and which has encouraged the hope that I might reach the tops of one or two more during my three planned expeditions this coming summer. I have gone off hotels now, just as I went off boarding houses years ago. Heaven in the Highlands consists of being under your own exclusive roof, and hired cottages and well-sited chalets where you can get your maps spread out all over the floor without fear of disturbance, provide this opportunity. Fellow-lodgers, I have decided, are a menace to enjoyment. And especially so if they speak the Gaelic.
Please don’t trouble to return the cutting. Pin it up on the kitchen wall and plan a great future for the Ainley clan.
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
38 Kendal Green, KENDAL
CUMBRIA
23rd October 1975
Dear Margaret,
I am sorry for the delay in replying to your interesting (and entertaining) letter, but it arrived just as I was about to depart for the third time this year to the far north. We had hired a caravan in Glencoe, this being a new experience for me (I mean the caravan, not Glencoe) and it proved enjoyable, even so late in the year, largely because the weather was so mild and there was no rain at all. It was a six-berth, roomy enough for me to spread myself with my maps, the only ‘inconvenience’ being the extremely restricted W.C., which was so small that I could not even enter it let alone enter it and sit down. Catherine might just have managed it.
You really must get up into Caledonia before she is much older and before the tourist hordes swarm north. You would all enjoy it immensely. The scenery all along the west coast and inland of it is quite superb. Lakeland looks almost flat on the return journey south. When Catherine is old enough to go to school, not long now, she should take Gaelic as a second language: it will be a great advantage, and avoid you much embarrassment when you fall into the company of people like Hamish.
The second Scottish book will be out early in the New Year and the third will follow in the early summer, 1975 having been a rewarding year for the necessary fieldwork.
I’m sorry the weather was none too good for your Keswick holiday, but you seem to have got around quite well, the highlight being the Haystacks – High Stile day; yes, despite Gamlin End, still one of my favourite expeditions. The paths, as you say, are becoming a problem in many places, some of them, once narrow trods, having acquired the dimensions of a motorway. I don’t know what can be done about this, short of abandoning the paths altogether and finding your own virgin routes to the tops (which actually is much more fun).
I went through Brighouse on the bus a few weeks ago, but saw no sign of little girl who looked as though she might have been on the top of Smearsett Scar, nor did I notice any street-sign for Castlefields Crescent although I imagined it to be on the new estate going up the hill towards the M62.
Thank you for writing and keeping me in touch.
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
38 Kendal Green, KENDAL
21st November 1975
Dear Margaret,
Well, fancy you wishing I had called on you during my travels through Brighouse! You must have masochistic tendencies. No, the thought never once occurred to me. I wouldn’t dream of making an unannounced appearance. I was never one for unexpected confrontations. Besides, what would your husband say, you entertaining royalty while he was slaving his guts out at Nu-Swift away in Elland? No, no, I was well content to sit in the bus and search the faces of the passers-by for someone, child or woman, who looked as though they might once have climbed to the uppermost inches of Smearsett Scar. But I saw no-one who looked, even remotely, as though they might have been inspired to undertake such an adventure. None of them even looked happy. You live in alien surroundings, love. Don’t let your roots go too deep. There are better places than Brighouse. Couldn’t Daddy persuade Nu-Swift to open a branch at Sty Head or Honister Pass?
I have drooled over your lovely transparencies and now return them for the family album, and I have taken to heart your regretful assertion that Lakeland means less to me that it did and Scotland more. Perhaps you are right.
Lakeland is utterly lovely and charming, a heavenly paradise on earth – but oh the crowds! There is no fun in walking in procession, not even in delectable scenery. I remember Keswick when, even in summer, you saw only a few of like kin, fellwalkers out for a day’s adventure on the hills; when the only place of refreshment after a hard day was a chip-shop. No, the old romantic atmosphere has quite gone. Only in the depth of winter do you get a reminder of things as they used to be, and only in winter can I be persuaded, these days, to re-visit the places that once I loved almost to distraction. You will see what I mean when at last you find yourselves in Torridon, or on Stac Polly, or by Loch Hourn. Then I think you might agree. Be quick and grow up, Cathy!
You must, I implore you, restrain your impulse to call at 38 K.G. Not only would you be disappointed because, having lived like a recluse for so long I have developed the eccentricities of one, but, more important, I have a wife who is also consumed with insatiable curiosity, not only about female callers but even about female correspondents. You see, I have a secret past, or so she suspects, and what is worse, I continue to enjoy a virility far beyond my years. You’d best leave me alone to get on with my writing.
With very best wishes for a happy Christmas and new peaks in 1976,
Yours sincerely (well, partly what),
AWainwright
38 Kendal Green,
KENDAL, Cumbria
26th July 1976
Dear Margaret,
Thank you for your latest letter and the opportunity of seeing a few of your slides, all of which I enjoyed despite a sneaking feeling that the one of Husband on Lion Couchant was designed to take the mickey out of me although I was consoled by your admission that your own attempt on this perilous climb failed, otherwise I could indeed have taken umbrage at what I must have regarded as a cheeky exercise to emphasise my own failure. You must never climb the Lion Couchant, promise me that. I could never live with myself if you did. Then there’s young Catherine, coming along by leaps and bounds as a seasoned fellwalker. She must never do it either. A man has his pride, you know.
How Catherine has grown! Seems only months since she was ‘expected’, only weeks since she startled the world with the first infant ascent of Smearsett. Already she is conquering giants like Ard Crags, and names like Ben Alligin and Liathach are entering her vocabulary. I don’t mind that. It’s the Lion Couchant you must keep her away from.
This projected trip to Wester Ross is good news. This is where you really start to live. The world will have a new dimension for the Ainleys next year.
My switching of favours from Lakeland to places north merely demonstrates that there is nothing partisan in my make-up, that I can appreciate the beauty of mountain landscapes wherever they may be. And not only of mountain landscapes. I will now make you swallow your criticisms, your charges of infidelity, your unfounded claim to have detected a change of loyalties, your accusation of fickle devotion, by announcing that for several months I have turned my steps time and again to, guess what, the Yorkshire Dales, and in a few weeks will have completed A DALES SKETCHBOOK, for publication later in the year. This news should make you writhe with shame. Why, only last week, hours after receipt of your letter, I was making a study of Shibden Hall, and going on from there, past innumerable road signs that beseeched me to turn aside to Brighouse, to Kirkstall Abbey. Shame on you. After all, remember that I am going ultimately to the shore of Innominate Tarn, not of Loch Carron. I haven’t changed my affections, not really.
Yours sincerely
AWainwright
38 Kendal Green, KENDAL
13th August 1977
Dear Margaret,
Thank you for the latest news from Brighouse, of which perhaps the most important item is not the failure of the washing machine but Catherine’s ascent of Glyder Fawr, a superlative performance. Who would have thought it likely five years ago? Then, Smearsett Scar was the primary objective! As for the ascent of Snowdon by railway, let not your conscience be troubled. In Glen Shee a month ago I was carried up a mountain by chairlift for the first time ever. So much easier. Why don’t all mountains have them?
I share your opinion about Wales. Grand mountains, but harsh and unfriendly, quite lacking the beauty and charm of the Lakeland hills. But what I cannot stomach about Wales is the speech of its inhabitants. Imagine being in a community where everyone talks like Clive Jenkins! This is what really puts me off about Wales, and why I never go.
We were back in Plockton again in April, finding it as devastatingly beautiful as ever despite an ugly oil rig across the bay. And a few weeks ago we paid a very successful visit to Braemar, a most delightful area and one you should seriously consider if ever you acquire a tent because there seems to be very little restriction of campers, who we saw scattered along the banks of the Dee in glorious surrounding and all apparently without charge. But keep out of the hotels, which are everywhere in Scotland now very expensive. My week in Braemar, for two, cost around 200 pounds all told.
Yours sincerely,
AW
38 Kendal Green,
KENDAL, Cumbria
18 September 1979
Dear Margaret,
Thank you for your letter. I am sending 5 packets of notelets, but unfortunately cannot let you have more of one subject without upsetting the system.
I’m sorry 1979 has not been a good year for the summits but hope 1980 makes up for it. The cottage on Loch Awe sounds delightful.
We went up to Plockton (9th year in succession) at the end of April with the firm idea of climbing Ben Alligin at last, but all the mountains were completely plastered with snow and in fact there was new snow and bitter winds every day. We had often wondered what the Highlands were like at Christmas – now we know. We went north as far as Kinlochbervie. The white landscape was beautiful but it was never fit to leave the car.
We were more fortunate at the end of June, enjoying the only fine week of the summer on a first serious visit to Wales. We had a cottage at Dolgellau, remarkable for its lack of necessary equipment and furnishings, but had a splendid week nevertheless, the highlight being an ascent of Cader Idris – a splendid mountain, but avoid the Foxes Path if ever you do it. We have a cottage booked at Beddegelert for next May.
I hope you are all well despite the traumas of 1979. Your move to a new house sounds exciting. Has it a view of a noble mountain?
Yours sincerely,
AWainwright
38 Kendal Green,
KENDAL, Cumbria
25th June 1980
Dear Margaret and family,
Thank you for the eight-page account of your second Loch Awe holiday, all of which made good reading apart from your vindictive attack on innocent caterpillars – sweet little things, I always considered them. You really must learn to love your fellow creatures.
We had better fortune with the weather than yourselves for our week at Beddgelert, a charming place (May 10–17); in fact it was absolutely super. Cloudless skies and unbroken sunshine every minute of every day, and not a drop nor even a hint of rain. You went to bed every night certain that the morrow would be exactly the same, perfect. It is not often one can set off for a day on the mountains unimpeded by protective devices against wet weather, but so it was during that memorable week. The idea of setting forth armed with waterproofs and rain-gear and over-trousers was just too ridiculous to think about. No waiting for the mist to lift or the showers to pass. It was just perfect. And reassuring for me because I found I could still get up on the tops, although slowly, and enjoy the summits as much as ever. Five savage peaks were trodden underfoot and 80 super photographs obtained. The cottage we hired was clean and well-equipped – we enjoyed this too, and have booked it again for the end of September. All told, this was probably the best and most rewarding holidays I have ever had.
Yes, do try Lochinver next year. A charming place with a strange and exciting landscape. A good new restaurant has opened recently and will provide you with splendid evening meals at reasonable cost. And there are NO CATERPILLARS at Lochinver. Only midges.
Photos returned with thanks. It seems incredible that eight years have gone by since you first broke the news of an interesting event in the family and that soon afterwards you reported the successful ascent of Smearsett Scar by a very young Catherine. Now she looks almost a veteran hiker!
Yours sincerely,
AW
[He has drawn caterpillars all over this letter.]