Cliff Edge - Last of the Great Fen Climbers
A onetime Swaffham Prior celebrity
MENTION IN THE "CRIER" (Vol 29, No 8, pg 6) of the notable lack in Swaffham Prior of a mountain rescue team, reminded me of my days in the village, many long years ago, when occasionally might be seen a stalwart who could well have made a fine leader of such a squad had he been called upon.
Cliff (to use the familiar), was one of that rare strain of men, a modest specialist, in a sport not overburdened with its practitioners.
Months, nay weeks before a major climb, he might have been seen stretched across a pavement, quite likely the East face of North Street Burwell, fingers over the edge of the kerbstones, knuckles white and booted toes well dug into the opposite side nearest the wall, scrabbling for a grip, inching himself along, (metrication was unheard of then) spurning all offers of help from kindly passers-by. Thus the great man trained, strengthening hands, toes, resolve and muscles so that if called upon for that final superhuman effort, they would not fail him.
It was a magnificent spectacle, both in sight and sound; pitons, crampons and futons tinkling and gleaming in the sunlight, for he was a stickler for cleanliness in all his gear.
Wicken Fen was his particular favourite area, being close to his first base camp in Burwell; the windmill there providing an unusual almost vertical challenge to his undoubted skills; the thrill heightened by the everpresent danger of plunging into the dark weedy waters below, should he perchance lose toe- or finger-hold.
For a while his spectacularly illustrated and exciting books could be found in the local Library: "Fen Climb No 1, Wicken", or "Fen Climb No 2, Cawdle" etc. Truly a collection to grace any home suitably equipped with a bookshelf, or coffee table.
Shall we ever see his like again? I doubt it. His daring exploits inspired the following verse:
