top of page

Screen Shot 2021-11-01 at 6.28.42 PM.png

Millican Dalton: A Sublime Midlife Crisis

The relevance of a 20th century cave-dweller to environmental aesthetics.

Wednesday, 23 December 2020

borrowdale pic 1.jpg

At the mouth of the cave at Borrowdale, May 2020. Photograph: Lewis Eaton.

On a swelteringly hot day in the North Western Fells of The Lake District, the gaping mouth of a cave offered itself as a refuge and swallowed us mercifully into its cool damp interior. Caves are otherworldly places. This particular cave, set into the hillside of Castle Crag, allows you to peer out at the gently swaying trees and glimmering daylight of the outside world from a viewing point void of light and sound. The daytrip itself had been to seek refuge in The Lakes; an attempt at replacing the stagnancy of a locked-down city summer with a more welcome, less claustrophobic, kind of tranquillity. We spent a few minutes scrambling around on the siltstone, marvelling at the height of the cave walls and exchanging the obligatory comments about feeling small in big spaces. On leaving, I noticed a large, flat stone covered in scrawlings. At the centre in neat, deeply-etched letters read ‘Don’t Waste Words, Jump to Conclusions’ with dozens of smaller sections of writing surrounding this. Each gave names and dates, with many faded with age and dissolving back into the stone’s surface. It was from a frantic Googling during the car ride home that I came to find out we had happened across a sort-of pilgrimage place for hikers: the cave in which a man had lived out his summers for over forty consecutive years.

In 1904, at the age of thirty-six, Millican Dalton gave up his life as an insurance clerk in London in order to dedicate himself to The Great Outdoors. Having spent part of his childhood in Nenthead, the North Pennines, he found life and work in the capital stifling in comparison. From then on Dalton split his year, spending the summer months in the cave under Castle Crag and winters in a canvas hut in Buckinghamshire. Far from your conventional hermit, Dalton was an active and sociable member of the community. He organised camping excursions for the outdoors novice which included teaching hiking, rock climbing, rafting and how to forage for food. What I found extraordinary for the time was that these excursions didn’t exclude women, with one of Dalton’s advertisements for a mountaineering course stating his views bluntly: “Ladies are welcome to the camp. There is nothing new in ladies camping, the custom being at least 10,000 years old.” This rare indiscriminate approach led to Dalton forging a long-lasting friendship with geologist Mabel Barker, who over the years consistently recommended Dalton’s courses to women students and friends.

Millican and Mabel.jpg

Dalton and Barker atop a needle, 1913. The Mable Barker Collection.

ARCHIVE

Take a look...

Find all our of old features and articles below...

Fondazione Prada, Milan: Liu Ye's Storytelling

Fondazione Prada, Milan: Liu Ye's Storytelling

Transcending spaces through children's stories by Sara Quattrocchi Febles 1st July 2020 This review was written in late March when...

Thriving in our Outrage: A Look at Harris Reed’s Graduate Collection

Thriving in our Outrage: A Look at Harris Reed’s Graduate Collection

Illustration by Vitoria Mendes Harris Reed may have only just finished their final year at Central Saint Martins, but the young designer...

Pride Online 2020

Pride Online 2020

Celebrate Pride from home! by Cas Bradbeer 22nd June 2020 QHF Pride Poster by Queer Heritage Forum (Courtesy of @QHForum) The Courtauld...

Poussin’s Plague at Ashdod

Poussin’s Plague at Ashdod

Or the suspended theatre of life by Reine Okuliar | 9 June 2020 Nicolas Poussin, The Plague at Ashdod, 1630, oil on canvas, 148 cm × 198...

It's Happening Here Too

The racial injustice that goes beyond the USA By Sara Quattrocchi Febles | 4 June 2020 Find information and resources on cases of racial...

Untitled (Mirfield Moors)

Untitled (Mirfield Moors)

Artwork of the Month | June Isaac Huxtable I took this photo of my mum pretty early on into lockdown. I came back to my native town of...

bottom of page