The Only Genuine Jones

It was on his first visit to Snowdonia that George Abraham, along with his younger brother Ashley, entered the alluring warmth of Ogwen Cottage - the little domicile that was to be his temporary haven from the typically wet Welsh weather that was to plague their holiday. In those days, few people in this remote corner of Snowdonia could speak anything other than Welsh and so George, being of Cumbrian birth and breeding, was at something of a natural disadvantage. He was not however, overly concerned, because in his right hand he held a note, which had upon it, written in the neat, precise writing of one who is used to taking notes in the open, a short list of common phrases, most of which related to the procurement of food and lodgings. How lucky George was to have a friend who had not only been his climbing mentor, introducing him to the multitude of possibilities in both the Lake District and Wales, but who also spoke Welsh and was able to give him guidance on the way of the local! One line particularly drew him - Oes geneychi chwi faban wedi rhosti - for it had been highlighted by his friend as a special delicacy; and did he now not indeed deserve such a delicacy? Had he not after all just spent a long and hungry day exploring the rugged hills that surrounded this lonely cottage? Of course, the answer came easily to him and in the best Welsh accent he could muster, he carefully recited the mysterious words – he was instantaneously shocked by the great commotion they sent running through the little household. Those acquainted with the Welsh language will not be surprised, for a request for roast baby would disturb even the most accommodating of hosts.

In hindsight, perhaps it would have been wise for the young George to have been wary of his friend’s advice, because his friend on this occasion was one Owen Glynne Jones, a man not only liked and respected for his extraordinary achievements as a climber, but also for his sharp wit, mischievous sense of humour and munificent personality; there have been few climbers, before or since, blessed with as much charisma as this one man. But before the writer begins to lay out his subject’s life as best he can, perhaps a short introduction to the era in which he climbed is first required.

The penultimate decade of the 19th century saw what is widely regarded as the birth of British rock climbing. Hitherto, the attentions of Britain’s mountaineers had been drawn away from their native hills to the more coveted prizes of the Alps and Caucus and it wasn’t until a young Walter Parry Haskett Smith, after a field trip to the English Lake District, hit upon the notion of climbing for its own sake that the opportunities that lay closer to home began to be realised. Although slow at first, his example led to a growing stream of imitators, and the ensuing period of intense exploration was only cut short by the intervention of the Great War, which whisked away Britain’s young men to less rewarding occupations.

In these few decades, many men, and to a lesser extent women (these being less enlightened times), made their names on the pillars and precipices of the Lakeland Fells, Welsh Moels and Scottish Creags; they came not only with a taste for exploration, but with a keen intellect, a sharp wit, and a romantic eye. Owen Glynne Jones was one such man, who in a short but explosive climbing career was to have a significant and lasting influence on the sport we know today. Known for both his ability as a climber and for his generous character, between the years of 1888 and 1899 he climbed extensively both at home and abroad, established some of the hardest routes of the time, experimented with new techniques and styles, many of which were years ahead of their time, advocated the rights of all to access the countryside regardless of class, and in his guidebook, Rock Climbing in the English Lake District (1897), laid the foundations for the British Grading System we know today.

Jones’ upbringing was in many ways typical of its time; early in the 1860s his parents, David, a carpenter and stonemason by trade, and Eliza (née Griffiths), decided to follow the growing trend of rural out-migration and left their family home near Barmouth in North Wales for more prosperous occupations elsewhere. But unlike so many of their fellow countrymen, instead of choosing the coal fields of South Wales or the mills of the English Midlands, they chose to settle in London, and so on the 2nd of November 1867 Jones was born into the centre of the world’s greatest empire.

The mountains and crags surrounding the Mawddach Valley were to quickly become Jones' own special preserve. On the right-hand side of the photograph is Barmouth Bridge, which was completed in the same year as Jones’ birth and is still used by the trains of the Cambrian Line to this day.

Photo: Dan Harris

He was schooled at a boarding-school in Ealing until his mother’s death in 1882. This being a time before state subsidised childcare, Jones’ father, finding himself unable to both earn a living and care for his two children (Jones had a younger sister, Margaret Ellen) on his own, decided to move back to his family in Wales, taking up residence with relatives in Barmouth. Since the family’s absence much had changed in the town, which thanks to the arrival of the Cambrian Railway in 1867, had been transformed from a remote ship building village into growing tourist destination. It was still worlds apart from London though; the traditional way of life was as ever strong, and Welsh, was in general, the language of the street and the dinner table. Although Jones was to be schooled elsewhere, he spent the remainder of his childhood here, growing up under the shadow of Meirionnydd’s most imposing peak, Cadair Idris. Holidays were spent exploring the surrounding hills and high places, and it is arguable that if he had not returned to Wales at this time, then he may never have taken up the embryonic sport of rock climbing. Cadair Idris was to have a lasting effect on the young Jones, it was to be the scene of his first proper rock climb, and it was in many ways to become his own special preserve. The photographer Ashley Abraham would later write that Jones’ enthusiasm for the mountain was infectious and that when climbing together, his appreciation of the finest Lakeland climbs was invariably tempered with some remark about the Great Gully on Craig Cau. – “’Ah’, he [Jones] would say disparagingly ‘this is not bad, but wait until you see Craig y Cae’ or ‘oh yes, this pitch is all right as pitches go’ (he was now sitting on the top of the Great Chimney in Deep Ghyll), ‘but it is nothing to one I know in Wales’ ”.

The jagged profile of the Cyfrwy Arête forms a striking backdrop to the Mawddach Valley.

Photo: Dan Harris

Following his mothers death he attended the Central Foundation School on Cowper Street in London, where he won several prizes and distinguished himself in science. In 1884 he was awarded the Holl Scholarship and went on to study at Finsbury Technical College under the City and Guilds Institute of London, where he studied the theoretical and practical aspects of mechanical engineering, mathematics and chemistry. Again, he was able to distinguish himself and in 1886 won a Clothworkers' Scholarship, which took him to the Central Institute (City and Guilds) at South Kensington. After three years in the engineering department he came top of his class, received the diploma of Association of the Institute, and was appointed assistant in the Institute's mathematics department. In 1890 he passed the London University BSc exam with first-class honours.

It was during his time at the Central Institute that Jones makes his first appearance on the British climbing scene. On the 18th of May 1888, while holidaying in Barmouth, he set out for the northern flank of Cadair Idris. Here the grey screes of the mountain stretch out discordantly along the Mawddach Estuary; at their centre they are pierced by a sharp ridge of broken granite jutting out prominently from the bulk of the mountain. Armed with nothing more than what he had gleaned from the assortment of alpine books and journals of the Institute’s library, Jones proceeded to ascend the ridge solo, thus completing the first recorded rock climb on the mountain – the 142m East Ridge of the Cyfrwy Arête. The route is still held in high regard and is given the modern grade of Difficult. Despite Jones’ enthusiasm for the mountain, he would not record any further significant ascents there until he returned with a strong party in 1895 when Great Gully and East Gully on Craig Cau were both reduced. Both ascents were highly impressive feats for the time; the former is now given a grade of Severe and the latter Hard Severe. Over the next few years he would claim most of the exploratory routes on that mountain.