7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A cult classic!, 18 Nov 2007
Love this book. The pictures are emphatic and evocative, the text precise yet vital, the tale beguiling and inspiring. Night climbers is an invitation back to a time before the nanny state buffered one's every move with cotton-wool principle bound by cast-iron regulation. These chaps, children of the Great War, thought first of the challenge, second of the imminent broken bones and never at all of litigation as they swung from rooftop to parapet to pinnacle. A must read.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Cambridge rooftops, 2 Oct 2008
This is a fascinating account of the escapades of Cambridge students during the early 1900s. These young men had the most unusual pastime of climbing the university buildings in the dead of night, with little, or even no, equipment. They then had the forethought to record their achievements by photographing them for all posterity. How glad I am that they did. This is an intriguing and highly entertaining book. When next in Cambridge at night I am going to be sure to find myself looking to the tops of the building to see if there's any climbing still going on.
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5 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Make No Cambridge Ascent Without This Guide, 15 Jan 2008
If you have been to Cambridge, you know the beauty of the city, the tranquil college quads, the gentle River Cam flowing through academic grounds, the stately and ancient spires and domes of the magnificent buildings. I used to live nearby, and it was easy to appreciate such beauty, but neither you nor I have the appreciation which was shown by the student Whipplesnaith and his fellows. They, you see, found beauty on the roofs, and on the challenge of ascending thereto. Whipplesnaith and his pals documented some of their feats, and in 1937 he published _The Night Climbers of Cambridge_, which, although it had been reprinted, has been unavailable for decades. Now this strange and funny book has been reprinted by Oleander Press and it features seventy photographs of the climbers in action, photos that have been digitally fussed-over, as well as the full text of the original. It is a handsome volume and as good an example of British eccentricity as one can find in print.
Whipplesnaith was actually Noel Howard Symington. He describes a sweetly innocent, if dangerous, hobby. Repeatedly, Whipplesnaith insists on respect for the buildings. Black gum-shoes, for instance, are recommended rather than the usual shoes of mountain climbers, which have nails in them to "scratch and damage the stone-work which is not consistent with the night climber's ideal of leaving no trace where he has been." Whipplesnaith from time to time hints at non-defacing traces; describing the climb up St. John's, he says, "From the window ledge a climber in a playful mood may leave his gown or surplice on the statue in the middle. This would probably cause considerable surprise to the authorities." The authorities are not so much the local constabulary, or the dons (who may have had their own climbs in their day), but the college porters. "The dismay felt by a climber descending a drain-pipe outside a college, with a porter inside shouting `Police!' at the top of his voice, is an emotion never to be forgotten." There was danger, too, simply in being on walls and roofs. The photographs of the climbers at work, atop chapel spires or clinging to drainpipes or gargoyles four stories up, are enough to document the risk, but it was all taken in stride by the climbers. Indeed, much of this volume describes the sensible steps needed to reduce any risk, not just of being caught, but of unexpected descent.
The good-humored instructions are likely to produce mirth in readers who have no intention ever of duplicating the feats described here. The enthusiasm and fun of the jaunty writing makes a nice parallel to the derring-do described. When, for instance, remarking upon a particular chimney (not the appliance above a fireplace, but, as in mountaineering, a narrow vertical passage between two walls which the climber may ascend with his back against one wall and feet against the other), Whipplesnaith advises, "The chimney is too broad for comfort, and a very short man might find it impossible to reach the opposite wall, with his feet flapping disconsolately in space like an elephant's uvula." This is an endearing memoir written by someone who obviously loves his hobby and the fine old buildings that he clambers over. Who knows? Perhaps someone will take Whipplesnaith up on his invitations issued seventy years ago. "But the sun is setting," he writes at the end of a chapter, "Enthusiasts will now make a tour of some of the interesting climbs of Cambridge, we hope in fact as well as by the fireside. There is no moon, the sky is cloudy and the barometer is high. It will be a fine night."
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