Dorothy Pilley (1893-1986)
Dorothy was one of the scarce band of female all-round climbers operating during the 20s and 30s. She ranged throughout the Alps and crags of Britain, actively seeking the company of other women to climb with in preference to men. Despite these robust feminist credentials (or feminine as she quaintly preferred to characterize her philosophy), she wrote like an overgrown schoolgirl just let loose from the old alma mater for the hols. In relentlessly jolly fashion, her famous semi-autobiographical book Climbing Days recounts her splendid adventures in Wales and the Lakes, through to Scotland to the Alps. It reads like simply one long glorious summer of climbing fun, all washed down with lashings and lashings of ginger beer.

Claude Frankland (1878-1927) climbing 'Whisky Crack' at Almscliff Crag in Yorkshire in the 1920s.
Although  Frankland only began climbing at the age of thirty-one, within a few years he had become one of the best rock climbers in the country. Frankland was able to cope with the psychological pressure of what were then virtually unprotected routes as he had taken to soloing hard routes at the same time. 'The difficulties are only mental,' he was fond of saying. This practice was frowned on by many, but Frankland justified it basically on the grounds that because he was so much better than anyone else it wasn't as much of a risk. “On climbs on which I desire to qualify, the rope is declared to be more dangerous than useful. Anchorage is often lacking. The pitches are very long. Companions capable of leading are few. I came to the conclusion that I must climb alone, and then there would be no question of shoulder or rope. It would be playing strictly according to the rules of the game if I tried the climb myself before inviting others to trust their safety to my leadership.” It was all the more shocking therefore, when the arch-competent soloist, still in his middle-aged prime, died after from a roped fall from a V.Diff (5.6). The route was Chantry Buttress on the Napes in the Lake District, a notoriously rickety route. The loose hold which had broken off was found still clutched in Frankland's hand as he lay dying from head injuries. Frankland lies surrounded by the mountains he loved in the little churchyard at Wasdale, Cumbria. Of Frankland, Geoffrey Winthrop-Young wrote: “I was invited to watch CD Frankland on his Almscliff verticals and overhangs, and I had the satisfaction of seeing him illustrate fully for the first time continuous movement up severe rock, with its rhythmic fluctuations and grace.”