PINNACLE RIDGE
I remember approaching Pinnacle Ridge on St Sunday Crag for the first time in the early 90’s. I’d run up from Dunmail and traversed in from the tarn on a whim, not entirely sure where the base of the ridge was, though it proved easy enough to locate. The rock was dry and warm and even then, the steep ‘greasy corner’ had received sufficient traffic that the holds were clear of moss and obvious. It was a delight and I ran without pause from the last blocks to the summit and on, back to the steep slog up Fairfield.
Since then, I’ve revisited the ridge perhaps half a dozen times, once passing the pinnacles with no hands for an ill considered bet, and once in proper winter conditions when that same corner felt distinctly less comfortable, moving clumsily in big boots and exercising a great deal more caution on the pinnacles themselves. We finished in the dark, following a bearing in poor conditions over the summit, our late return causing a degree of friction for my hapless companion.
On this last occasion, despite more snow on the hill than I’d expected, the rock was dry, if cold, and the scrambling pleasant enough. Though I found what must have been the last loose rock on the ridge, which required only a gentle pull to bring it down onto the bridge of my nose, giving a bloody finish to what was otherwise another enjoyable rock and run combination.
