Nicola Dennis is a long-standing friend whom I met during my caving activities, a multiply-qualified outdoor instructor who is in the process of becoming a Mountain Leader.
In final preparation for her assessment for a lower-level qualification, she and I ventured out one un-promising morning in mid-November to practise navigation. She chose the plateau just west of Dursley in Gloucestershire. This is not really a place where one could get lost, but has enough micronavigational features and misleading footpaths to make it a worthwhile venue.
There was very light drizzle as we left the car park, but as we made our way up the wooded path to the plateau, the skies opened, setting the tone of much of the rest of day. We walked anti-clockwise around the edge of the flat land at the top of the slope, staying away from the very limited amount of golfing activity, walking on bearings, counting paces, and the rest. Near the disused quarry on the west side of the plateau, we explored the boundaries of the sausage-shaped contour (it marks a depression, not a mound), and at the stone shelter 200m north east of the trig. point we had our flapjacks, but only after a most unpleasant encounter with a nasty brute of a bulldog which tried to kill Nicky's terrier.
As we were sheltering from the rain, it suddenly stopped, and the weather changed in a moment from cool and wet to cold and dry, which we both much preferred. I did not have the surface pressure chart to hand, but I bet a Mars Bar that it a front had passed right over us at that very moment.
In these improved conditions we made our way to the southern end of the plateau, practising contour interpretation on the way, then practising pacing on a bearing as we made our way back towards the golf clubhouse. After that, a pleasant stroll through the woods lead to the Old Spot Inn, where we sat next to the fire, and I had two well-deserved pints of Old Boar real ale, which was superb, and two packets of Pipers Lye Cross Cheddar and Onion crisps, which are the finest in the whole wide world.
It wasn't the most epic hike either of us had ever done, but it was the first we had done together. The next day, Nicky passed her navigation assessment, so it must have been time well spent.
Saturday, 26 November 2016
Sunday, 18 September 2016
Snowdon element of National Three Peaks Challenge, 17th September 2016
My task, given to me by Charity Challenge, was to meet a small group of people from WS Smith who were doing the National Three Peaks 24-Hour Challenge, get them to the summit of Snowdon via the PYG Track by 2pm, then bring them down via the Llanberis Path and deliver them to the Victoria Hotel -- a simple task, one might think, but first I had to meet them, with an uncertain arrival time, and not knowing them from any of the other groups of people milling around at Pen-y-Pass that morning.
Early indications during the night were that my group would arrive at Pen-y-Pass at about eight o'clock, which meant that I could not go to Pete's Eats for breakfast, so I made my way to the Victoria Hotel, where I had a good but much more expensive breakfast (disturbed by piped radio -- ugh!) early enough for me to catch the bus which would deliver me to Pen-y-Pass before eight o'clock.
When I arrived I had a quick check round the car park to make sure none of the small groups already there were mine. One group that I approached turned out to be German hikers, and they invited me to join them, which was sweet of them. Then I took to checking each group of new arrivals, but none of them was mine, and I was getting colder and colder waiting around, so I had to layer up. Around this time, between about eight c'clock and about nine o'clock, visibility was poor, with the cloud obscuring the rising ground immediately behind the car park.
Eventually one of my colleagues, Andy Ross, turned up: he been able to delay his arrival based on updated information about the groups' likely arrival time, but I was already on my way when it had come through. We kept each other company until our groups arrived simultaneously.
The cloud base was lifting, and the wind was dropping, and there was the promise of fine day ahead.
Andy and his group headed off about three minutes ahead of me, and after the members of my group had nipped to the loo, adjusted their layers, and gulped something to drink, we headed off. Considering they had been up and down Ben Nevis, up and down Scafell Pike, stuffed into a minibus and driven hundreds of miles, and without of wink of proper sleep for the previous twenty one hours at least, they were in remarkably good shape. We made good progress along the PYG Track, with the group sticking together well without me having to remind them to do so, and the mood was light.
As we passed Bwlch y Moch and started along the great flank of Crib Goch and Garnedd Ugain, we were rewarded with rare, remarkable and inspiring views of the ridge to our right and of the valley, lakes, and mountains beyond to our left, for miles and miles, and in great clarity. The path ahead could be seen in great detail all the way to the standing stone at Blwych Glas except where it tucks out of sight above Glaslyn, which I had not experienced for at least ten years. It certainly made it easier telling the group where were going, what the terrain was like, and how long it was probably going to take -- much better than waving into the impenetrable fog and declaring gnomically "up there".
There was a steady stream of people making their way along Crib Goch high above us, including two people, one of them quite nervous, whom I had met on the bus.
We powered on at a good pace, working our way past the many hundreds of slower walkers and past the early birds already coming down, pausing infrequently to drink and eat but, it seemed, never to catch our breath, which was good. Our last pause was just before Blwych Glas, a chance to layer up for the expected strong winds on the ridge.
Just before the summit, the two people I had met on the bus who were doing Crib Goch passed me coming down: we had a quick chat and I congratulated the one who had been nervous on her achievement.
We reached the summit at 1-02 pm, which was 58 minutes before the 24-hour deadline, and that without me forcing the pace or anything grim like that. We queued for ages to climb onto the cairn to reach the summit marker, but fortunately it was not windy or cold there. I stayed down to take photographs. Then we repaired to the café, were I crammed down two cheese pasties, which was very satisfying, but had potentially very embarrassing consequences later, the details of which I will spare you, dear reader.
I had been hoping that the descent, for which we had bags of time, could be a leisurely affair, so that we could take advantage of the astonishing views and take time really to enjoy the surroundings. However, the accumulated tiredness of their adventure had finally caught up with the participants, and with their main objective achieved, there was a desire (particularly in one member of the group) to make a swift descent and reach the Victoria Hotel early.
The descent was uneventful: nobody had locking-up knees, and morale was good. I took them through Coed Victoria rather then along Victoria Terrace -- the woodland route is prettier, quicker, and gentle on tired feet and legs. We arrived at the Victoria Hotel well ahead of schedule, and I bade the group farewell. They had all done very well.
Early indications during the night were that my group would arrive at Pen-y-Pass at about eight o'clock, which meant that I could not go to Pete's Eats for breakfast, so I made my way to the Victoria Hotel, where I had a good but much more expensive breakfast (disturbed by piped radio -- ugh!) early enough for me to catch the bus which would deliver me to Pen-y-Pass before eight o'clock.
When I arrived I had a quick check round the car park to make sure none of the small groups already there were mine. One group that I approached turned out to be German hikers, and they invited me to join them, which was sweet of them. Then I took to checking each group of new arrivals, but none of them was mine, and I was getting colder and colder waiting around, so I had to layer up. Around this time, between about eight c'clock and about nine o'clock, visibility was poor, with the cloud obscuring the rising ground immediately behind the car park.
Eventually one of my colleagues, Andy Ross, turned up: he been able to delay his arrival based on updated information about the groups' likely arrival time, but I was already on my way when it had come through. We kept each other company until our groups arrived simultaneously.
The cloud base was lifting, and the wind was dropping, and there was the promise of fine day ahead.
Andy and his group headed off about three minutes ahead of me, and after the members of my group had nipped to the loo, adjusted their layers, and gulped something to drink, we headed off. Considering they had been up and down Ben Nevis, up and down Scafell Pike, stuffed into a minibus and driven hundreds of miles, and without of wink of proper sleep for the previous twenty one hours at least, they were in remarkably good shape. We made good progress along the PYG Track, with the group sticking together well without me having to remind them to do so, and the mood was light.
As we passed Bwlch y Moch and started along the great flank of Crib Goch and Garnedd Ugain, we were rewarded with rare, remarkable and inspiring views of the ridge to our right and of the valley, lakes, and mountains beyond to our left, for miles and miles, and in great clarity. The path ahead could be seen in great detail all the way to the standing stone at Blwych Glas except where it tucks out of sight above Glaslyn, which I had not experienced for at least ten years. It certainly made it easier telling the group where were going, what the terrain was like, and how long it was probably going to take -- much better than waving into the impenetrable fog and declaring gnomically "up there".
There was a steady stream of people making their way along Crib Goch high above us, including two people, one of them quite nervous, whom I had met on the bus.
We powered on at a good pace, working our way past the many hundreds of slower walkers and past the early birds already coming down, pausing infrequently to drink and eat but, it seemed, never to catch our breath, which was good. Our last pause was just before Blwych Glas, a chance to layer up for the expected strong winds on the ridge.
Just before the summit, the two people I had met on the bus who were doing Crib Goch passed me coming down: we had a quick chat and I congratulated the one who had been nervous on her achievement.
We reached the summit at 1-02 pm, which was 58 minutes before the 24-hour deadline, and that without me forcing the pace or anything grim like that. We queued for ages to climb onto the cairn to reach the summit marker, but fortunately it was not windy or cold there. I stayed down to take photographs. Then we repaired to the café, were I crammed down two cheese pasties, which was very satisfying, but had potentially very embarrassing consequences later, the details of which I will spare you, dear reader.
I had been hoping that the descent, for which we had bags of time, could be a leisurely affair, so that we could take advantage of the astonishing views and take time really to enjoy the surroundings. However, the accumulated tiredness of their adventure had finally caught up with the participants, and with their main objective achieved, there was a desire (particularly in one member of the group) to make a swift descent and reach the Victoria Hotel early.
The descent was uneventful: nobody had locking-up knees, and morale was good. I took them through Coed Victoria rather then along Victoria Terrace -- the woodland route is prettier, quicker, and gentle on tired feet and legs. We arrived at the Victoria Hotel well ahead of schedule, and I bade the group farewell. They had all done very well.
ridge walk to Clogwyn Station, 16th September 2016
I had spend the night before wild camping near the Afon Arddu, within sight of Hebron Station. I started out at about half past eight in the morning by heading to the Llanberis Path north east of Hebron Station, to follow a route I had wanted to investigate for several years: the ridge walk from Cwm Aelhir to Clogwyn Station.
This walk had intrigued me for many years, partly because of its promise of views down into the Vale of Llanberis to reciprocate the upwards views from the road, and partly because of the secretive way in which the route of the Snowdon Mountain Railway disappears from sight as one walks up the well-known Llanberis Path, only to re-appear stealthily from behind at Clogwyn Bridge: I wanted to visit those hidden sections of the railway route.
I walked up the Llanberis Path a short distance to 584586, where on the left (north east) there is a distinctive long crag running away to the north east, away from the Llanberis Path. This crag is shown on the 1:25,000 Ordnance Survey map by a sigmoidal inflection of the contours, and by a black line representing a field boundary, which is not as visible on the ground as the map suggests. I walked parallel to this crag until it petered out, and continued in the same general direction to the edge of the bowl centred at approximately 587598 which ends progress in that direction. I then made my way up to the right (south east), zig-zagging on the steep terrain as necessary, to Derlwyn (416m), my first objective of the day.
From Derlwyn I had fine views of the slope, the woodland, and the town beyond, and in the other direction, the next kilometre or so of my route. Although I can memorise a route by walking it, I am not good at memorising the next few minutes of an un-known route by studying the map, so I took advantage of being alone and not under pressure to practise that skill.
I also made use of some of the subtle details of the contouring to practice my micro-navigation. I was especially pleased to see the curve of the 390m contour at 59505840 marked on the ground by three sheep contentedly munching the tough mountain grass, enjoying perhaps some marginal advantage by being just a metre or so higher than the ground beyond their little low-rise promontory.
I continued on quite slowly, enjoying the views and enjoying just being there. At 595582 I felt sleepy and put my tent up for a cat nap, dodging a rainy squall while I slept, then I continued upwards towards Tryfan at 580m (the local "Little" Tryfan, not the mountain, obviously), where I enjoyed great views down into the valley.
I could hear a helicopter flying slowly about somewhere on the other side of the valley, and at first I assumed it was in the fog sitting on the Glyderau and perhaps carrying out a rescue, but when I looked more closely I saw that there was some kind of foot-path repairing activity going on, and the helicopter was actually lifting bags of stone from the roadside. Despite being shiny and not at all camouflaged, sometimes the helicopter disappeared against the background of the ground beyond it, leaving only the bag and its sling visible, apparently flying through the air as if by magic.
This walk had intrigued me for many years, partly because of its promise of views down into the Vale of Llanberis to reciprocate the upwards views from the road, and partly because of the secretive way in which the route of the Snowdon Mountain Railway disappears from sight as one walks up the well-known Llanberis Path, only to re-appear stealthily from behind at Clogwyn Bridge: I wanted to visit those hidden sections of the railway route.
I walked up the Llanberis Path a short distance to 584586, where on the left (north east) there is a distinctive long crag running away to the north east, away from the Llanberis Path. This crag is shown on the 1:25,000 Ordnance Survey map by a sigmoidal inflection of the contours, and by a black line representing a field boundary, which is not as visible on the ground as the map suggests. I walked parallel to this crag until it petered out, and continued in the same general direction to the edge of the bowl centred at approximately 587598 which ends progress in that direction. I then made my way up to the right (south east), zig-zagging on the steep terrain as necessary, to Derlwyn (416m), my first objective of the day.
From Derlwyn I had fine views of the slope, the woodland, and the town beyond, and in the other direction, the next kilometre or so of my route. Although I can memorise a route by walking it, I am not good at memorising the next few minutes of an un-known route by studying the map, so I took advantage of being alone and not under pressure to practise that skill.
I also made use of some of the subtle details of the contouring to practice my micro-navigation. I was especially pleased to see the curve of the 390m contour at 59505840 marked on the ground by three sheep contentedly munching the tough mountain grass, enjoying perhaps some marginal advantage by being just a metre or so higher than the ground beyond their little low-rise promontory.
I continued on quite slowly, enjoying the views and enjoying just being there. At 595582 I felt sleepy and put my tent up for a cat nap, dodging a rainy squall while I slept, then I continued upwards towards Tryfan at 580m (the local "Little" Tryfan, not the mountain, obviously), where I enjoyed great views down into the valley.
I could hear a helicopter flying slowly about somewhere on the other side of the valley, and at first I assumed it was in the fog sitting on the Glyderau and perhaps carrying out a rescue, but when I looked more closely I saw that there was some kind of foot-path repairing activity going on, and the helicopter was actually lifting bags of stone from the roadside. Despite being shiny and not at all camouflaged, sometimes the helicopter disappeared against the background of the ground beyond it, leaving only the bag and its sling visible, apparently flying through the air as if by magic.
I strolled on past Tryvan to my next objective, the elongated mound at 601574, represented by the 610-metre ring contour on the map, then to the hidden lands where the railway makes its secret way between Half Way station and Clogwyn Station. At the bend at Llechog a train went past while I was standing close to the rails, so I waved enthusiastically to the passengers, hoping to look like a mysterious hiker in the remote foggy reaches of their journey. I walked slowly along the ridge, stopping every few yards to look down the steep drop into the valley below, to the outcrop at 606572 (718m), then to Rocky Valley Station, at which trains no longer stop.
My last bit of micro-navigation practice was to find the feature on the ground at 607564 represented by the curving out of the contours. It proved easy to find and quite distinctive, and possible spot for wild camping on a windless night.
I walked on to Clogwyn Station (just over 770m), my final out-bound objective for the day, had a good look round, and headed to the campsite via the Llanberis Path and the route across the valley floor past Hebron Station. On the way down I stopped for a late lunch at the junction of the Llanberis Path and the less used path that leads to Llyn Du'r Arddu, putting up my tent just because I could, but having done so, enjoying the shelter from the breeze.
I was very pleased that my new rucksack could take all my stuff without being close to bursting and without becoming uncomfortable. It felt good to have spent the night out instead of making use of the comforts of a campsite, and I resolved to do more wild camping.
My last bit of micro-navigation practice was to find the feature on the ground at 607564 represented by the curving out of the contours. It proved easy to find and quite distinctive, and possible spot for wild camping on a windless night.
I walked on to Clogwyn Station (just over 770m), my final out-bound objective for the day, had a good look round, and headed to the campsite via the Llanberis Path and the route across the valley floor past Hebron Station. On the way down I stopped for a late lunch at the junction of the Llanberis Path and the less used path that leads to Llyn Du'r Arddu, putting up my tent just because I could, but having done so, enjoying the shelter from the breeze.
I was very pleased that my new rucksack could take all my stuff without being close to bursting and without becoming uncomfortable. It felt good to have spent the night out instead of making use of the comforts of a campsite, and I resolved to do more wild camping.
wild camping, night of 15th-16th September 2016
I had two days to myself in mid September before a piece of work on Snowdon, so I decided to go wild camping for one night and then do a day hike on a route that has intrigued me for many years, not a wildly adventurous route, but one that was interesting and often ignored.
This would be my first mini expedition with my shiny new Lowe Alpine AirZone Pro 35:45 rucksack, which had bought not for this kind of use, but for single-day (or single night) ML work. Because of this, I did a careful test loading at home, to make sure it would take everything without being full to bursting, which it did; the alternative would have been to use my 75-litre expedition rucksack, but it too big for single-day ML work, and I did not want to take too rucksacks with me in the car.
I parked at a friendly location in Llanberis where |I could leave my car for a few days, and made an estimate pf how much usable daylight there was left -- I wanted to have all my camping tasks finished without using my head torch to give away my position. I selected the nearest of a set of sites I had identified a few days earlier (by examining the map), all of them in Open Access land, and headed off in a jaunty mood on a fine late summer's evening up the valley of the Afon Arddu.
I arrived at the site, checked that it was actually suitable, and quickly put up my tent. It is the tent-putting-up phase in which one is most vulnerable to discovery, I think, and even though I was doing nothing unlawful or wrong, I wanted to be discovered as little as possible. With the tent in place and providing a low-profile dark-green cover for my and my kit, I was then able to get on with the rest of the tasks of the evening, and spend some time just enjoying being there.
The spot I had chosen was magical. The air was clear and clean, and there were pin-sharp views of Clogwyn Du'r Arddu and the ridge which was my objective for the hike the next day, picked out in rich red tones from the setting sun against the crisp blue sky, and Moel Cynghorion in near silhouette to the right. I could see great lengths of the Snowdon mountain railway on the flanks of the ridge, and the lights of the signals at Hebron Station and Half Way Station, especially after sunset. In the background was the splash and murmur, and the occasional deep glug, of the rushing waters of the Afon Arddu.
Some runners went past on the footpath just 50m away, and I hid inside my tent, hoping not to be seen. A few minutes later, some mountain bikers rode past, and similarly, I ducked inside my tent so as not to be found.
As the dark was stealing over the land and the last train had made its way back to the engine shed, the signals at Hebron Station and Half Way Station went out, and I was left with the sounds of the river and of the leaves in the trees in the light wind. The river has seemed fairly quiet when it was still daylight, but now that it was nearly night and my hearing had become more acute, the gentle murmur seemed more like a sustained roar, and the and the occasional glug sounded as if someone were throwing large stones rocks into the pools just upstream of me.
Surrounded by all this beauty, and with my lovely tent, my cosy sleeping bag, and with a good meal inside me, I felt blissfully happy. I stayed awake a few more minutes looking around me, then slipped into my sleeping bag and slept well until just after dawn.
In the morning I had a freshen up, followed by a brew and a good hiking breakfast, then I packed up quickly and headed away from the river to complete my morning tasks. Unfortunately, the resin trowel I had bought (as part of a programme in the late Spring to lighten my kit) snapped as I was digging a cathole, which was inconvenient but could have been worse. I did manage to do what I had to do properly and hygienically, but it was a close call.
This would be my first mini expedition with my shiny new Lowe Alpine AirZone Pro 35:45 rucksack, which had bought not for this kind of use, but for single-day (or single night) ML work. Because of this, I did a careful test loading at home, to make sure it would take everything without being full to bursting, which it did; the alternative would have been to use my 75-litre expedition rucksack, but it too big for single-day ML work, and I did not want to take too rucksacks with me in the car.
I parked at a friendly location in Llanberis where |I could leave my car for a few days, and made an estimate pf how much usable daylight there was left -- I wanted to have all my camping tasks finished without using my head torch to give away my position. I selected the nearest of a set of sites I had identified a few days earlier (by examining the map), all of them in Open Access land, and headed off in a jaunty mood on a fine late summer's evening up the valley of the Afon Arddu.
I arrived at the site, checked that it was actually suitable, and quickly put up my tent. It is the tent-putting-up phase in which one is most vulnerable to discovery, I think, and even though I was doing nothing unlawful or wrong, I wanted to be discovered as little as possible. With the tent in place and providing a low-profile dark-green cover for my and my kit, I was then able to get on with the rest of the tasks of the evening, and spend some time just enjoying being there.
The spot I had chosen was magical. The air was clear and clean, and there were pin-sharp views of Clogwyn Du'r Arddu and the ridge which was my objective for the hike the next day, picked out in rich red tones from the setting sun against the crisp blue sky, and Moel Cynghorion in near silhouette to the right. I could see great lengths of the Snowdon mountain railway on the flanks of the ridge, and the lights of the signals at Hebron Station and Half Way Station, especially after sunset. In the background was the splash and murmur, and the occasional deep glug, of the rushing waters of the Afon Arddu.
Some runners went past on the footpath just 50m away, and I hid inside my tent, hoping not to be seen. A few minutes later, some mountain bikers rode past, and similarly, I ducked inside my tent so as not to be found.
As the dark was stealing over the land and the last train had made its way back to the engine shed, the signals at Hebron Station and Half Way Station went out, and I was left with the sounds of the river and of the leaves in the trees in the light wind. The river has seemed fairly quiet when it was still daylight, but now that it was nearly night and my hearing had become more acute, the gentle murmur seemed more like a sustained roar, and the and the occasional glug sounded as if someone were throwing large stones rocks into the pools just upstream of me.
Surrounded by all this beauty, and with my lovely tent, my cosy sleeping bag, and with a good meal inside me, I felt blissfully happy. I stayed awake a few more minutes looking around me, then slipped into my sleeping bag and slept well until just after dawn.
In the morning I had a freshen up, followed by a brew and a good hiking breakfast, then I packed up quickly and headed away from the river to complete my morning tasks. Unfortunately, the resin trowel I had bought (as part of a programme in the late Spring to lighten my kit) snapped as I was digging a cathole, which was inconvenient but could have been worse. I did manage to do what I had to do properly and hygienically, but it was a close call.
At that point I regarded the wild camping as over, and the day hike as starting, so the story continues in the subsequent entry of this blog.
Tuesday, 13 September 2016
Lakes Eight Peaks Challenge, 3rd September 2016
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| That's me on the left, in the woolly hat. |
The day started horribly early, as I needed time to cook and eat a hearty breakfast, drive from the youth hostel at Coniston Holly How to the Sticklebarn Inn in Great Langdale, and pick up my radio and lunch before meeting the participants.
The night before I had taken two veggie sausages out of the freezer and put them in the fridge to defrost, to reduce cooking time in the morning, but as I made my way to the kitchen, I remembered that frozen food must be cooked directly from frozen and not thawed first, so I had to consign the sausages to the bin rather than risk food poisoning on the mountains. Then I found that I had left all the other sausages out of the deep freeze overnight, so they had to be binned too. I hate wasting food, and I do not take kindly to having an emasculated breakfast. Grr!
The weather was worse than the day before, but after a group photograph we all set off from the car park behind the inn, separately in our groups a minute or two apart and not en masse. I led my group through the pasture beside the river, rather than ascending out of the car park to the Cumbria Way -- it is only a few meters up, but I wanted a gentle start for a long day.
Langdale was beautiful, with the vegetation dripping with the rain of the night before, and a fine display of clouds obscuring Bow Fell and Esk Pike, placing them in mysterious isolation high above us. The moraine at the end of the valley felt rather magical.
We ascended Rossett Gill, then continued straight on to Rossett Pike, the first of the eight peaks of the challenge. It wasn't quite as windy there as I had expected, but even so everyone was keen to get off the summit and press on with the walk. We made our way past Angle Tarn and through the moraine terrain at the top of Tongue Head, then up onto the col, to put us in sight of the check point at the cruciform shelter, but we pressed on to Allen Crags to bag the second of the eight peaks.
Back at the shelter we stopped for a break, to adjust layers and to eat, and to be counted by the event co-ordinator.
We left the shelter and made our way up to Esk Hause, then on through Calf Cove, the junction with the path to Great End, and then across the first boulder field, which I had not been looking forward to negotiating my way across. This was not because of navigation, as the route is well marked with cairns and in any case not too tricky, but because of the significant risk of someone (me or a participant) slipping and breaking an ankle or a leg, especially as the weather was wet and blustery, both of which make walking on boulder fields even more hazardous.
We negotiated the boulder field safely, but some of the participants really struggled, and by now some people were beginning to suffer from the wind and the rain.
As we headed down towards the col which lies between Broad Crag and Ill Crag, I felt the need to check our heading and rate of descent against the map, to make sure we were in the right place and going the right way. I got out my map and compass and started my checks, but while my face was buried in the map, the fog cleared and everyone else except me could see exactly where we were. A teasing yell from the ex-Army mountain expedition instructor at the back of my group (a participant, but a very handy person to have along) made me look up and saved me having to navigate the hard way.
We negotiated the second boulder field safely but with more difficulty than the first, then started on the ascent to Scafell Pike. In the cross wind as we left the little col and started to scramble up the shaly ridge, I suddenly felt that all was not well. I huddled the group into what shelter I could find and told them that I would not take the group up any higher. I made it clear that almost everyone was capable of reaching the summit, (which was only about 300m horizontal meters and 100 vertical meters away), but that about half the group would find the descent very difficult and really should be heading back to the warmth and shelter of Sticklebarn Inn. I didn't like saying this, especially as we were less than 20 minutes from bagging the third, and main, peak of the day, but about half of the group said that the agreed and wanted to be taken back straight away.
I felt bad for the other half of my group, but just at that moment another group from the same event came alongside: I had a quick word with one of their Mountain Leaders, who then took half my group to the summit and gave me half his group to take back. Between us, he and I had made the right decision for all involved, which was a huge relief for me, as I really did not want to disappoint the participants in my group who were up for carrying on, but I had to take the others off the mountain as a priority.
With my newly constituted group I headed back, offering them the opportunity to visit Ill Crag and then Broad Crag, but some of them were soaking wet, and almost all of them were getting cold, so there was no urge to leave the direct route back to Sticklebarn Inn.
At the end of the second (more northerly) boulder field we paused for food and to adjust layers. As we were leaving we met my colleague Verity and her group, who were doing the same as we were, so we formed one large group, with Verity at the front and me at the back, and the new double-size group between us.
We stayed together until the descent of Rossett Gill, but then it became painfully clear that the knees one of the participants were locking up, so I did what I do in such circumstances, and walked her down, at her own pace and in her own time. She was in a fair amount of pain and more distress, so I gave her plenty of support, reassurance, and encouragement, and eventually we reached the valley floor, where her condition eased substantially. We arrived at Sticklebarn Inn almost exactly twelve hours after we had started, which is a long time for anyone to be out in such conditions.
The participants who had set out with me and returned with Verity had reached only two of the eight peaks that day, but the weather conditions had been pretty vile, and under the circumstances, they had done well. The mountains won't go away, and they can walk the route another day. At least one group did complete the whole figure-of-eight circuit and descend via the Band, and I envied their Mountain Leaders for that, but I was content with the decision I had made. As one of my colleagues put it, "Some good decisions were made today."
I was offered a vegetarian curry, but it was all carbohydrate and I was craving some fat and protein, so I drove back to the hostel and scoffed a huge amount of egg and cheese on a plateful of potato waffles, which made me feel great.
After a blissful night's sleep, I headed home the next day.
For the record, the peaks to which I took participants were:
- Rossett Pike (650m)
- Allen Crags (785m)
and the point in which we turned around on Scafell Pike was at about 880m, on the approach from the north west.
Great End and Bow Fell, near Great Langdale, 2nd September 2016
This was the second of two reconnaissance trips for the Lakes Eight Peak Challenge the following day. In May, with my friend Emily, I had reconnoitred the section which includes Oxendale, Brown How, Crinkle Crags, Three Tarns and the Band, but I had still not walked the middle section, from Esk Hause to the Band.
I decided to include a quick reconnaissance of Great End, even though I had been there before, to be sure of being comfortable in fog, and to see if there is a safe route directly from the summit to Esk Hause without walking all the way back to the col to the south west.
After a deliberately slow start and a hearty cooked breakfast at the youth hostel at Coniston Holly How, I parked in the National Trust car park behind the Sticklebarn Inn, and headed out along the Cumbria Way, past the hummocks of moraine at the head of the valley, and up via Rossett Gill past Rossett Pike and Angle Tarn. I noticed again the extensive moraine where the stream drains Angel Tarn. For the first time the even more extensive moraine where the path crosses the fairly level ground north-east of the tarn. This moraine is why there is a marsh between the path and the side of Esk Pike: it impedes drainage.
I decided to include a quick reconnaissance of Great End, even though I had been there before, to be sure of being comfortable in fog, and to see if there is a safe route directly from the summit to Esk Hause without walking all the way back to the col to the south west.
After a deliberately slow start and a hearty cooked breakfast at the youth hostel at Coniston Holly How, I parked in the National Trust car park behind the Sticklebarn Inn, and headed out along the Cumbria Way, past the hummocks of moraine at the head of the valley, and up via Rossett Gill past Rossett Pike and Angle Tarn. I noticed again the extensive moraine where the stream drains Angel Tarn. For the first time the even more extensive moraine where the path crosses the fairly level ground north-east of the tarn. This moraine is why there is a marsh between the path and the side of Esk Pike: it impedes drainage.
I followed the path that leads to Scafell Pike up side of the little corrie called Calf Cove, then turned right onto the path leading to Great End. This path starts out easy to see, but gradually peters out nearing the summit. I explored both the actual 910-metre summit, and the rock promontory about one hundred meters to the north east, then attempted to find a safe route back to Esk Hause without going back past Calf Cove, but I could not, so I returned the way I had come.
It was bleak, windy, and foggy at Esk Hause. It was actually foggy everywhere above about 600m, but it seemed to matter more, and be more eerie, where the ground was more level and less loaded with obvious features.
Making absolutely certain I was on the rising path leading south-west towards Esk Pike and not the descending path leading south towards certain doom, I set out on the main part of the reconnaissance. Finding Esk Pike was easy, but the going was very slippery where algal slime had collected on wet rocks in shady nooks. The route down was straight forward, with fine views through the patchy cloud of Angle Tarn, first at the little un-named col about 130m south west of the peak, then at Ore Gap.
Ore Gap is quite an interesting place. Some of the rocks there are vivid dark red and purple, and there is a little low footbridge carrying the main east-west path over the marshy ground. Also, it was much less windy than I had expected. It would be a great place to have a picnic on a fine, clear day.
On the eastern flank of Ore Gap the path just disappears. It is exactly because of things like this that I spend so much time on reconnaissance: better to work out what to do on reconnaissance, than on the event with a bunch of cold wet participants getting colder and wetter by the minute. There is a line of cairns which accurately marks the way to Bow Fell, but my concern was that conditions might be so bad "on the day" that I would not be able to see one cairn from the next -- fortunately, there are plenty of other clues to navigate by.
At the peak of Bow Fell I tried to find a safe way down without turning back, but could not, even though a path leading south is marked on the map, so I retraced my steps to the junction of paths about 120m north of the peak, and turned right for Three Tarns -- this section is also marked by cairns.
In the fog, the three tarns were not visible from the footpath, which makes a sudden left turn without properly landing on the col, so I nipped over to see them, or at least, the nearest one, then started my long descent past Earing Crag and down the Band. A little warning: this route saves most of its descent until the end, so there is plenty of difficult terrain ahead for tired knees and tried feet (though no difficult navigation), even with the gentle pasture of Stool End in sight.
The reminder of the walk was pleasant and easy, but my feet were beginning to get tired by the time I reached Old Dungeon Inn, with still more than a mile to go.
The section from Esk Hause to Sticklebarn Inn took me three and a half hours walking, including breaks, but excluding time spend on exploring.
Immediately I reached Stickebarn Inn, I was into the friendly milieu of my Mountain Leader colleagues as we gathered for the evening briefing for the Lakes Eight Peaks Challenge the next day, and a huge meal.
Back at the hostel, I refreshed my kit for the next day, slipped into my tent without having a shower (yes, dear reader, I'm afraid so), went out like a light, and slept very soundly.
Making absolutely certain I was on the rising path leading south-west towards Esk Pike and not the descending path leading south towards certain doom, I set out on the main part of the reconnaissance. Finding Esk Pike was easy, but the going was very slippery where algal slime had collected on wet rocks in shady nooks. The route down was straight forward, with fine views through the patchy cloud of Angle Tarn, first at the little un-named col about 130m south west of the peak, then at Ore Gap.
Ore Gap is quite an interesting place. Some of the rocks there are vivid dark red and purple, and there is a little low footbridge carrying the main east-west path over the marshy ground. Also, it was much less windy than I had expected. It would be a great place to have a picnic on a fine, clear day.
On the eastern flank of Ore Gap the path just disappears. It is exactly because of things like this that I spend so much time on reconnaissance: better to work out what to do on reconnaissance, than on the event with a bunch of cold wet participants getting colder and wetter by the minute. There is a line of cairns which accurately marks the way to Bow Fell, but my concern was that conditions might be so bad "on the day" that I would not be able to see one cairn from the next -- fortunately, there are plenty of other clues to navigate by.
At the peak of Bow Fell I tried to find a safe way down without turning back, but could not, even though a path leading south is marked on the map, so I retraced my steps to the junction of paths about 120m north of the peak, and turned right for Three Tarns -- this section is also marked by cairns.
In the fog, the three tarns were not visible from the footpath, which makes a sudden left turn without properly landing on the col, so I nipped over to see them, or at least, the nearest one, then started my long descent past Earing Crag and down the Band. A little warning: this route saves most of its descent until the end, so there is plenty of difficult terrain ahead for tired knees and tried feet (though no difficult navigation), even with the gentle pasture of Stool End in sight.
The reminder of the walk was pleasant and easy, but my feet were beginning to get tired by the time I reached Old Dungeon Inn, with still more than a mile to go.
The section from Esk Hause to Sticklebarn Inn took me three and a half hours walking, including breaks, but excluding time spend on exploring.
Immediately I reached Stickebarn Inn, I was into the friendly milieu of my Mountain Leader colleagues as we gathered for the evening briefing for the Lakes Eight Peaks Challenge the next day, and a huge meal.
Back at the hostel, I refreshed my kit for the next day, slipped into my tent without having a shower (yes, dear reader, I'm afraid so), went out like a light, and slept very soundly.
Sunday, 28 August 2016
Snowdon at night, 20th-21st August 2016
This was the last of three
events in a row working for RAW Adventures, who had been hired to provide
mountain safety by Action Challenge, who were staging the event for Macmillan,
the cancer charity, for their fundraising.
I had been up Snowdon the day before (up the
PYG Track and down the Llanberis Path with new-found friend Liz), and it had
been blustery, wet, and foggy. During the night the weather had worsened, and
by morning half the tents at Llwyn Celyn Bach camp site had either blown down
or were looking very sorry for themselves: it did not look at all promising for
the night ahead. I started to formulate plans in my mind as to how far up the
mountain it would be safe to take my group, hoping I could get them to Clogwyn
bridge but wondering if even that would be too far.
Late in the evening, the winds
eased off a little and became less gusty, and with a favourable general
synopsis and a favourable detailed forecast from a local and well-informed
source, we set off at midnight via the road that passes west of (behind) the
camp site, the footpath which crosses Afon Arddu and emerges just above
Stefan's café, and the Llanberis Path.
At Hebron Gate the
participants were organised into groups and Mountain Leaders assigned to them:
I was the lead ML for a mid-paced group of 29 participants, working with
International ML Lotte and assistant ML Martin.
As we advanced at a
deliberately slow steady pace long the Llanberis Path the visibility grew
steadily worse, and I experienced a strange disorientation. Although I know
that the path was rising in front of me, and I could feel this in my leg
muscles, it looked as if I was constantly walking along the edge of a bowl or
small depression, steeper-sided on my left than on my right. When I turned round
to check on the progress of the group behind me, the bowl still appeared to be
steeper on my left than on my right, which felt bizarre. If anyone reading this
understands this kind of optical illusion, do please get in touch: I would be
fascinated to learn more about it.
I felt very strongly that
Lotte, Martin and I worked really well as a team. We kept a deliberately slow
steady pace, initially set by me at the front, but tweaked even slower based on
feedback to me delivered by Martin from his and Lotte's observations, and all
without use of our radios. We kept the group good and tight, which is essential
for safety in such conditions. We conferred about the state of the group and
the state of the weather at Clogwyn and again at the junction of the Llanberis
Path with the PYG Track, deciding at each point whether to turn back or to
continue.
It had long since been clear that we had
enough time to reach the summit before the turnaround time west by RAW
Adventures, and given that the other indications were favourable, we advanced
upwards, reaching the summit three hours and forty minutes after leaving Llwyn
Celyn Bach camp site, which would have been a creditable time in broad daylight
and fair weather, but considering the filthy conditions and that I had
deliberately been holding the pace down, was remarkable. Visibility was so bad
that Lotte, Martin and I had to tell the participants that we had arrived.
After a few minutes we turned round and went
back the way we had come, with Martin in front setting a faster pace than on
the ascent, me in the middle, and Lotte at the back. We kept the group together
until Hebron Gate (as it was still dark and foggy), but then let them chose
their own pace, as the route ahead was way-marked and marshalled.
Lotte and I ended up at the back of our group
(but not the back of the whole show) helping three struggling participants (or
more accurately, one worn-out participant and her two companions) off the
mountain and back to Llwyn Celyn Bach.
My particular thanks to Lotte and Martin for first-rate teamwork in difficult conditions.
My particular thanks to Lotte and Martin for first-rate teamwork in difficult conditions.
At the marquee, I scoffed a well-deserved breakfast,
then as it was clear I was no longer on duty, slipped away to my tent, feeling
tired but very pleased with the work I had done, and slept until mid morning.
My plan had been to stay the whole day in
Llanberis and return home on the Monday, but as I had woken up feeling full of beans, I
decided to pack up and go straight away, which gained me an extra day at home,
and reduced the risk of an attack of anti-climax (from which I suffer after
excitement).I arrived home, back in the West of England, in time for supper, at the end of a tour of the UK taking in Yorkshire, Fort William, and Snowdonia, and had taken two weeks and two days, covered three weekends, and involved driving 1,190 miles (including 21 to pick up a much-loved hat I had left accidentally in Capel Curig).
I have the bank holiday weekend free, which I really need, then it's back to the Lake District for a piece of work for Charity Challenge.
Ben Nevis at night, 13th-14th August 2016
This was the second of three events in a row working for RAW Adventures, who had been hired to provide mountain safety by Action Challenge, who were staging the event for Macmillan, the cancer charity, for their fundraising. It was also my fourth time on Ben Nevis working as a Mountain Leader, and my second time on Ben Nevis at night working as a Mountain Leader.
The weather was, of course, wet and windy, but not too bad to attempt the ascent. RAW Adventures gave us a turn-around time of four hours after departure, which I consider to be a very sensible precaution. We headed across the suspension bridge near the visitor centre, past the Ben Nevis Inn, and up the track to the junction adjacent to Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe, where the participants were organised into groups, and Mountain Leaders were assigned to guide and look after them. Sally (a different Sally from last weekend) and I were assigned together.
We sent on at a steady pace, across Red Burn, and out onto the zig-zags, and managed to get within 50 metres of corner 6 by the turnaround time. Wanting to give the partipants in our group a well-defined point to say they had reached, Sally and I led them the few extra paces to the corner, paused for a minute or two to adjust layers, then we all turned around and headed back, much to the relief of the almost everyone in the group.
As we descended Sally and I let the group, which we had previously kept tightly bunched, gradually spread out as each particiant found his or her preferred pace. Eventually, Sally was quite a way behind me, and when I heard news that she was looking after a man whose knees had locked up, I raced back up to meet her and him, where I administered my "magic bananas" (instept lifters made of Fimo), which freed up one knee and made things a lot easier for him. For more information about this condition, see the page on this blog about knee trouble.
Sally and I and the rear marker for the whole event walked the man off the mountain. There was nothing he could do but tough it out and carry on going down as best he could -- it's a miserable and fairly painful process, but he kept his grace and humour. He was the last participant down, and we were the last Mountain Leaders to finish; the four of we had been on the mountain and in the weather for eleven and half hours.
I returned alone to my tent in the Glen Nevis camp site, feeling tired, but not as tired as I had expected, and satisfied with my night's work, and slept well until mid afternoon.
The weather was, of course, wet and windy, but not too bad to attempt the ascent. RAW Adventures gave us a turn-around time of four hours after departure, which I consider to be a very sensible precaution. We headed across the suspension bridge near the visitor centre, past the Ben Nevis Inn, and up the track to the junction adjacent to Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe, where the participants were organised into groups, and Mountain Leaders were assigned to guide and look after them. Sally (a different Sally from last weekend) and I were assigned together.
We sent on at a steady pace, across Red Burn, and out onto the zig-zags, and managed to get within 50 metres of corner 6 by the turnaround time. Wanting to give the partipants in our group a well-defined point to say they had reached, Sally and I led them the few extra paces to the corner, paused for a minute or two to adjust layers, then we all turned around and headed back, much to the relief of the almost everyone in the group.
As we descended Sally and I let the group, which we had previously kept tightly bunched, gradually spread out as each particiant found his or her preferred pace. Eventually, Sally was quite a way behind me, and when I heard news that she was looking after a man whose knees had locked up, I raced back up to meet her and him, where I administered my "magic bananas" (instept lifters made of Fimo), which freed up one knee and made things a lot easier for him. For more information about this condition, see the page on this blog about knee trouble.
Sally and I and the rear marker for the whole event walked the man off the mountain. There was nothing he could do but tough it out and carry on going down as best he could -- it's a miserable and fairly painful process, but he kept his grace and humour. He was the last participant down, and we were the last Mountain Leaders to finish; the four of we had been on the mountain and in the weather for eleven and half hours.
I returned alone to my tent in the Glen Nevis camp site, feeling tired, but not as tired as I had expected, and satisfied with my night's work, and slept well until mid afternoon.
.
Yorkshire Three Peaks, 6th August 2016
Back to the familiar environment of Horton in Ribblesdale and the Yorkshire Three Peaks, this time working for RAW Adventures, who had been hired to provide mountain safety by Action Challenge, who were staging the event for Macmillan, the cancer charity, for their fundraising.
We had fine hot sunny weather for the day, which is not actually prefect hiking weather: it was so hot and still that there was a serious risk of heat stroke, so we kept urging the participants to keep on drinking. Despite there being plenty of water available (laid on by Action Challenge), the extra litre I was carrying to give to thirsty participants was half gone before I had started the first mountain.
I helped a nervous particiant with no head for heights but plenty of courage up the steep face of Pen-y-Ghent, then strolled off with various participants I met on the way towards the Ribblehead Viaduct, where a very welcome lunch awaited me, my buddy Sally, and a struggling participant that she and I had been looking after. While we were eating, a call came on the radio for Sally and me to walk with the struggling participant via a low-level shortcut bypassing Whernside to the next checkpoint, at Philpin Farm: all in all, this seemed like a good idea.
At Philpin Farm transport was arranged to take the participant to the finish line, and Sally and I were assigned to a group that waiting to carry on to Ingleborough. We had a fine well-paced walk to the base of the final ascent to saddle on Ingleborough, then a good steady climb to where the route eases off, at which point Sally was assigned to stay, and I was assigned to walk to the finish line without going to the summit, and encourage any participants I found along the way, which I did.
My journey back to Horton was interrupted by an instruction to wait in the Sulber Nick area, then to walk back the way I come (back towards Ingleborough), to support the last participant off the mountain, who by then was coming across the plateau in the dark. In the end, there were five or six or us (Mountain Leaders) looking after her, making sure she made it back safely and in good cheer.
At the finish I wolfed down my supper, and as there wasn't time to go to the pub, I slipped into my tent and sent straight sleep, feeling good after a good day's work.
We had fine hot sunny weather for the day, which is not actually prefect hiking weather: it was so hot and still that there was a serious risk of heat stroke, so we kept urging the participants to keep on drinking. Despite there being plenty of water available (laid on by Action Challenge), the extra litre I was carrying to give to thirsty participants was half gone before I had started the first mountain.
I helped a nervous particiant with no head for heights but plenty of courage up the steep face of Pen-y-Ghent, then strolled off with various participants I met on the way towards the Ribblehead Viaduct, where a very welcome lunch awaited me, my buddy Sally, and a struggling participant that she and I had been looking after. While we were eating, a call came on the radio for Sally and me to walk with the struggling participant via a low-level shortcut bypassing Whernside to the next checkpoint, at Philpin Farm: all in all, this seemed like a good idea.
At Philpin Farm transport was arranged to take the participant to the finish line, and Sally and I were assigned to a group that waiting to carry on to Ingleborough. We had a fine well-paced walk to the base of the final ascent to saddle on Ingleborough, then a good steady climb to where the route eases off, at which point Sally was assigned to stay, and I was assigned to walk to the finish line without going to the summit, and encourage any participants I found along the way, which I did.
My journey back to Horton was interrupted by an instruction to wait in the Sulber Nick area, then to walk back the way I come (back towards Ingleborough), to support the last participant off the mountain, who by then was coming across the plateau in the dark. In the end, there were five or six or us (Mountain Leaders) looking after her, making sure she made it back safely and in good cheer.
At the finish I wolfed down my supper, and as there wasn't time to go to the pub, I slipped into my tent and sent straight sleep, feeling good after a good day's work.
DofE bronze expedition, 21st & 22nd July 2016
This was the culmination of several weeks' work with the same small group of youngsters; I was working for Peter de Boer and Claire Corrigan of Bristol City Council.
In the indoor sessions we had covered all the preliminary topics such as what kit to bring, how to load a rucksack, nutrition, campcraft, and the basics of navigation. On 25th June we had all gone for a practice hike to bring it together in the field, especially the navigation.
Because of this preparation, the actual practice expedition was a constructive engagement with the matter of walking and camping, rather then the unnecessary struggle that sometimes happens. It helped that the weather was favourable, especially on the second day, but it also helped that the youngsters were not rushed off their feet, and actually had time to learn and practice the skills I wanted them to develop -- credit to Bristol City Council for allowing the practice hike in June.
Because of the layout of the Mendips, I was not able to travel by road between checkpoints on the second day, so I had to stride out briskly and unseen on alternative and inevitably longer trails to reach the checkpoints ahead of the youngsters -- I made it to the last one with only about 90 seconds to spare.
After the debriefing, my work was done, so I said my goodbyes and wished the youngsters well for the assessed expedition three weeks later.
In the indoor sessions we had covered all the preliminary topics such as what kit to bring, how to load a rucksack, nutrition, campcraft, and the basics of navigation. On 25th June we had all gone for a practice hike to bring it together in the field, especially the navigation.
Because of this preparation, the actual practice expedition was a constructive engagement with the matter of walking and camping, rather then the unnecessary struggle that sometimes happens. It helped that the weather was favourable, especially on the second day, but it also helped that the youngsters were not rushed off their feet, and actually had time to learn and practice the skills I wanted them to develop -- credit to Bristol City Council for allowing the practice hike in June.
Because of the layout of the Mendips, I was not able to travel by road between checkpoints on the second day, so I had to stride out briskly and unseen on alternative and inevitably longer trails to reach the checkpoints ahead of the youngsters -- I made it to the last one with only about 90 seconds to spare.
After the debriefing, my work was done, so I said my goodbyes and wished the youngsters well for the assessed expedition three weeks later.
Goatchurch Cavern, 6th & 7th July 2016
Two more half-day sessions in Goatchurch Cavern for Aardvark Endeavours. On Wednesday 6th July it was with a group of teenagers doing the National Citizenship Service, and on Thursday 7th July it was with children from a local primary school. All good stuff, and perhaps some of them will take up caving when they are older.
Friday, 29 July 2016
Offa's Dyke, 2nd July 2016
This piece of work was for Charity Challenge, for whom I did a stack of work in 2015, who had been contracted by the mental health charity Mind. The participants were doing a 24-hour sponsored walk either from the north or from the south, converging on the morning of Sunday 3rd July at Chirk Castle -- I was part of the day-shift on the southbound route, looking after the participants for the first 12 hours.
The evening before I was put up in the Premier Inn in Wrexham, luxuriating in the deep and generously heated bath in my en-suite bathroom, easing out my leg muscles after the National Three Peaks Challenge earlier in the week.
Because of timing constraints, the southbound walk started at a nondescript layby about a mile north-east of Rhuallt instead of at the coast. From there we walked at a steady pace for the next twelve hours, passing through well-tended farm-land, pretty woodland, and open upland giving grand views back to Livepool Bay and to our right across the Clywedog valley.
The only incident was on the approach to Moel Famau, the highest point around for miles, when from a rainy squall which I had been watching creep on us for a good half hour or more there were two thunderclaps in quick sucession, which I and the other two Mountain Leaders on this section took as an urgent cue to get everone to lower ground: we went to the junction of footpaths about ½km west of the summit. For the first time, I deployed my storm shelter, and we took refuge in it, filling it with steamy warmth and staying out of the weather until the risk of lightning strike had passed.
At the crossing of the A494 the night crew joined us, and we walked along together to the pass between Moel Llanfair and Moel y Plâs, where we were taken off and taken back to Wrexham, and the particiants carried towards Chirk Castle and the distant dawn, with the night crew looking after them. I was tired and needed a bath and then bed, but how I yearned to be walking through the night with them!
The next morning I woke too late to be bussed to Chirk Castle, but I visited the dining hall where the participants were having their celebratory brunch, to congratulate and check up on the particiants whom I had looked after the day before.
Well done all the particiants, especially those whom I had looked after. Well done for toughing out a 24-hour walk -- it must have seemed like a right old slog in the dog hours before dawn. Well done for helping to de-stygmnatise mental illness and for raising funds for the valualble work of Mind. It was a priveledge working with you.
The evening before I was put up in the Premier Inn in Wrexham, luxuriating in the deep and generously heated bath in my en-suite bathroom, easing out my leg muscles after the National Three Peaks Challenge earlier in the week.
Because of timing constraints, the southbound walk started at a nondescript layby about a mile north-east of Rhuallt instead of at the coast. From there we walked at a steady pace for the next twelve hours, passing through well-tended farm-land, pretty woodland, and open upland giving grand views back to Livepool Bay and to our right across the Clywedog valley.
The only incident was on the approach to Moel Famau, the highest point around for miles, when from a rainy squall which I had been watching creep on us for a good half hour or more there were two thunderclaps in quick sucession, which I and the other two Mountain Leaders on this section took as an urgent cue to get everone to lower ground: we went to the junction of footpaths about ½km west of the summit. For the first time, I deployed my storm shelter, and we took refuge in it, filling it with steamy warmth and staying out of the weather until the risk of lightning strike had passed.
At the crossing of the A494 the night crew joined us, and we walked along together to the pass between Moel Llanfair and Moel y Plâs, where we were taken off and taken back to Wrexham, and the particiants carried towards Chirk Castle and the distant dawn, with the night crew looking after them. I was tired and needed a bath and then bed, but how I yearned to be walking through the night with them!
The next morning I woke too late to be bussed to Chirk Castle, but I visited the dining hall where the participants were having their celebratory brunch, to congratulate and check up on the particiants whom I had looked after the day before.
Well done all the particiants, especially those whom I had looked after. Well done for toughing out a 24-hour walk -- it must have seemed like a right old slog in the dog hours before dawn. Well done for helping to de-stygmnatise mental illness and for raising funds for the valualble work of Mind. It was a priveledge working with you.
National Three Peaks Challenge, 27th to 30th June 2016
This was quite a piece of work, the National Three Peaks Challenge taken over three consecutive days.
I had been hired by Greenrock, who had been contracted by Cheltenham College, and on Monday 27th June we gathered in the grounds of the college: me, three regular members of the Greenrock team, their managing director Joe Mearns, three members of staff of the college, and the youngsters whom we were looking after. Also, there were three minibuses, everyone's kit, and a pile of drinking water and snacks.
When everyone and everything was safely on board, we trundled out of the college grounds and headed off to our first destination, the car-park at Pen-y-Pas. A few hours later we were all gathered again, this time eager to get going up the PYG Track. I was at the back and ended up looking after one of the teachers, who was struggling. I have no doubt that she could have made it up and down under other circumstances, but the purpose of the event was to get the youngsters up and down, so reluctantly, we parted ways: she headed back to the minibuses, and I strode out to catch up with the group.
We made good time to the top, spent a few minutes there, then a few minutes in the café, then made a swift descent to Pen-y-Pas, then drove to the youth hostel in Caernarfon, where a hearty meal was waiting for us.
The weather had been summery most of the way, but chilly and windy at the top, as usual.
The next day we drove to the car park at the head of Wastwater, and made a swift ascent and descent of Scafell Pike, and we were treated to some good views despite visibility not being particualy generous. Afterwards, we ate in the pub near the YHA youth hostel -- the food was delicious and in generous quantities.
On the third day we set out early on the long haul to the SYHA youth hostel in Glen Nevis. On the previous two days I had found switching from driving a minibus for a few hours to walking up a mountain a difficult transition, which I had assumed was due to poor hydration while driving, so this time I made sure I was well hydrated. Despite this precaution, I found going up Ben Nevis a devil of a slog.
Conditions were fair, and it was the first time I had been on the mountain without there being a snow cap on the summit plateau, and it was interesting to see the beaten footpaths on the plateau. We stayed a few minutes next to the trig point for group photographs, then headed back down. We spread out rather on the descent, but once we had descended below the orographic clouds that shrouded the top of the mountain, there was no pressing reason to keep everyone in a tight bunch.
That evening, Joe treated his crew and me to a hearty nosh-up in a pub in Fort William. I could have had vegetarian haggis, but I needed a pizza, so that is what I had.
The day after, we drove all the way back to Cheltenham. For once, I did not do any driving: I was the passenger in Jo's rather agreeable gran tourismo estate car. We said out goodbyes in the college grounds, then I made my way to stay the night with my brother and his family in Alcester.
On each of the three days' walks I had struggled, more so as the event went on: it was as if my physical fitness had suddenly declined. While this might be what had happened, it seems to me that driving for several hours and then going almost immediately to mountain walking is just not a transition I can do well. Unfortunately, this piece of work was the first on which such a transition was called for: previously, I had done the long-distance driving the day before, then driven either not at all or only a few miles on the day of the hike. I will know for next time.
My thanks to Jo for hiring me, and my thanks to the three teachers of the college for their support and companionship.
I had been hired by Greenrock, who had been contracted by Cheltenham College, and on Monday 27th June we gathered in the grounds of the college: me, three regular members of the Greenrock team, their managing director Joe Mearns, three members of staff of the college, and the youngsters whom we were looking after. Also, there were three minibuses, everyone's kit, and a pile of drinking water and snacks.
When everyone and everything was safely on board, we trundled out of the college grounds and headed off to our first destination, the car-park at Pen-y-Pas. A few hours later we were all gathered again, this time eager to get going up the PYG Track. I was at the back and ended up looking after one of the teachers, who was struggling. I have no doubt that she could have made it up and down under other circumstances, but the purpose of the event was to get the youngsters up and down, so reluctantly, we parted ways: she headed back to the minibuses, and I strode out to catch up with the group.
We made good time to the top, spent a few minutes there, then a few minutes in the café, then made a swift descent to Pen-y-Pas, then drove to the youth hostel in Caernarfon, where a hearty meal was waiting for us.
The weather had been summery most of the way, but chilly and windy at the top, as usual.
The next day we drove to the car park at the head of Wastwater, and made a swift ascent and descent of Scafell Pike, and we were treated to some good views despite visibility not being particualy generous. Afterwards, we ate in the pub near the YHA youth hostel -- the food was delicious and in generous quantities.
On the third day we set out early on the long haul to the SYHA youth hostel in Glen Nevis. On the previous two days I had found switching from driving a minibus for a few hours to walking up a mountain a difficult transition, which I had assumed was due to poor hydration while driving, so this time I made sure I was well hydrated. Despite this precaution, I found going up Ben Nevis a devil of a slog.
Conditions were fair, and it was the first time I had been on the mountain without there being a snow cap on the summit plateau, and it was interesting to see the beaten footpaths on the plateau. We stayed a few minutes next to the trig point for group photographs, then headed back down. We spread out rather on the descent, but once we had descended below the orographic clouds that shrouded the top of the mountain, there was no pressing reason to keep everyone in a tight bunch.
That evening, Joe treated his crew and me to a hearty nosh-up in a pub in Fort William. I could have had vegetarian haggis, but I needed a pizza, so that is what I had.
The day after, we drove all the way back to Cheltenham. For once, I did not do any driving: I was the passenger in Jo's rather agreeable gran tourismo estate car. We said out goodbyes in the college grounds, then I made my way to stay the night with my brother and his family in Alcester.
On each of the three days' walks I had struggled, more so as the event went on: it was as if my physical fitness had suddenly declined. While this might be what had happened, it seems to me that driving for several hours and then going almost immediately to mountain walking is just not a transition I can do well. Unfortunately, this piece of work was the first on which such a transition was called for: previously, I had done the long-distance driving the day before, then driven either not at all or only a few miles on the day of the hike. I will know for next time.
My thanks to Jo for hiring me, and my thanks to the three teachers of the college for their support and companionship.
DofE practice hike, 25th June 2016
I had been working with a small DofE bronze-level group for Bristol City Council for several weeks, teaching the youngsters the rudiments of what kit to bring on their expeditions, loading their rucksacks, navigation, and camp-craft. It was decided that the youngsters could have a single-day hike in preparation for the practice expedition, which I considered a very good idea, as there is only so much useful learning that can be done without putting it into practice the field.
I arrived at the end point of the route, parked my car, and walked the whole route back to the start point, then waited for the minibus to turn up with the youngsters and their youth workers. It was a teeny-weeny bit late, and I was rather early, but it was a pleasant sunny morning, so I idled about in the sunshine, watching the world go by.
I arrived at the end point of the route, parked my car, and walked the whole route back to the start point, then waited for the minibus to turn up with the youngsters and their youth workers. It was a teeny-weeny bit late, and I was rather early, but it was a pleasant sunny morning, so I idled about in the sunshine, watching the world go by.
Eventually they hove into view, and when they had all disembarked and sorted themselves out, I went through some preliminary matters with them, including making sure that their rucksacks were reasonably comfortable (or at least, not actively uncomfortable), and establishing on the map exactly where we were. To my annoyance, the map, which I had downloaded from OS Maps only a day and a half earlier, did not show two well-established footpaths nearby.
The youngsters navigated us via the various way-points, with me helping them to brush up their skills as we went. At one point, when we were practising taking bearings along a path and checking back against the map, a group of young women, all in shift dresses and wellies, came past, on a hen weekend, the bride-to-be indenifiable by her white dress, tiara, and sash.
At the destination, a campsite, we practised putting up and taking down the tents, much to the bafflement of some people staying there, who thought we had come to stay the night then changed out minds.
Much as time spent on reconnaissance is seldom wasted, when it came to the practice expedition as few weeks later it was clear that the time spent on this practice hike had been well spent.
Goatchurch Cavern, 21st & 23rd June 2016
Two half days' work with children from Chew Valley School and their teachers, working for Aardvark Endeavours, and assisting Andy Chamberlain and Chris Castle.
Goatchurch Cavern, 9th June 2016
A morning trip and an afternoon trip, both with youngsters, working for Aardvark Endeavours, who had been contracted by Young Bristol; I was assisting Ian Burton. As usual, most of the youngsters enjoyed it, some of them had the time of their lives, and one or two really didn't like it.
The most rewarding aspect of this kind of work is supporting and encouraging the participants for whom it quite a challenge, and helping them to have a good and enjoyable experience.
The most rewarding aspect of this kind of work is supporting and encouraging the participants for whom it quite a challenge, and helping them to have a good and enjoyable experience.
Sunday, 17 July 2016
three trips to Goatchurch cavern, 22nd May to 4th June 2016
I had accepted an offer of some caving work in Goatchurch Cavern, but as it was so long since I had last been underground, I thought it would be a good idea to undertake some preparatory trips.
The first trip, on Sunday 22nd May, was slow and gentle, more to get used to the cave environment than anything else. I had the cave to myself, so I spend a long time just sitting or lying quietly in various little chambers and tubes, getting the feel of being in tightish spaces again.
The second trip, on Thursday 26th May, was more adventurous, including spending time in tighter tubes than before (Effing Tight and the oblique exit form the Maze), and having a good pong round the various ways into the Boulder Chamber.
On the third trip, on Saturday 4th June, I had two companions: Tricia Denning-Kendall, and Paula Sewell. Tricia has been a caving companion for many years and was on the memorable trip to Eastwater Swallet on 15th November 2014, when I got proper stuck; it was my first trip with Paula. We had a good time of it, ranging where ever we wanted, including slipping through the Drainpipe and exploring the hidden waterfall in the Water Chamber.
By the end of the third trip, I felt ready.
The first trip, on Sunday 22nd May, was slow and gentle, more to get used to the cave environment than anything else. I had the cave to myself, so I spend a long time just sitting or lying quietly in various little chambers and tubes, getting the feel of being in tightish spaces again.
The second trip, on Thursday 26th May, was more adventurous, including spending time in tighter tubes than before (Effing Tight and the oblique exit form the Maze), and having a good pong round the various ways into the Boulder Chamber.
On the third trip, on Saturday 4th June, I had two companions: Tricia Denning-Kendall, and Paula Sewell. Tricia has been a caving companion for many years and was on the memorable trip to Eastwater Swallet on 15th November 2014, when I got proper stuck; it was my first trip with Paula. We had a good time of it, ranging where ever we wanted, including slipping through the Drainpipe and exploring the hidden waterfall in the Water Chamber.
By the end of the third trip, I felt ready.
Saturday, 16 July 2016
Scafell Pike and Cringle Crags, May 2016
On Saturday 28th May I travelled north to the Lake District with my friend Emily Fuller for three days' hiking. We travelled in my Smart car, which was big enough for our hiking kit and our camping kit, and comfortable enough for the length of journey. The little car was very sure-footed on Wrynose Pass and Hardknott Pass, where its rear-engine-rear-wheel-drive arrangement gave her first class traction even on the steepest sections, and her small size and responsive steering made her very nimble and wieldy; I enjoyed that part of the journey, for sure.
We pitched our tents under a beautiful tree at the far end of the lawn from Eskdale youth hostel, and were sung to sleep by the evening chorus or birds, some of whose calls I had never heard before.
For me, the purpose of the first two days' hiking was to reconnoitre two routes on which I had been given work later in the summer.
On Sunday 29th May, in very fine summery weather, we headed to Wasdale Head and walked slowly to the summit of Scafell Pike via Lingmell Gill , Brown Tongue, and Hollow Stones, taking in the view as we went, and looking for places were the route might not be so obvious in poor conditions. On the way down, we took a short detour via Lingmell and Goat Crags, and cooled off in one of the pools where the footpath splits for Wasdale Head or Brackenclose.
On Monday 30th May, also in very fine summery weather, we headed to Great Langdale, and parked in the National Trust car park under Raven Crag. From there we walked along the valley floor to Oxendale, then up to Brown Howe past the Markeens, then on to the saddle just north of Red Tarn, were we turned right and followed the path past Great Knott to Long Top. Along the section from Crinkle Crags to the Three Tarns, I was disappointed at how features which on the ground were very obvious, did not stand out clearly on the map (OS 1:25,000). At the Three Tarns we turned right and made our way back via the Band, then had a very satisfying nosh-up at the New Dungeon Ghyl Hotel.
On both of those days, we probably looked like the worlds' worst hikers, because of the amount of time we spend carefully studying the map and exploring all the wrong turns off the right route, so that we could really learn the route and navigate it confidently in poor conditions or at night. We really enjoyed both days' hikes, which although hard work mentally, were taken at a gentle pace, with plenty of time for taking in the beauty of the extraordinarily fine views.
On the Tuesday, with the serious business of reconnaissance over, we went for a lazy stroll without rucksacks, and basked in the glorious sunshine in the complex of little bowls and valleys behind Eskdale youth hostel, in the drainage basin of Blea Beck.
On the Wednesday we braved the M6 and trundled back to the West Country to get on with the rest of our lives.
We pitched our tents under a beautiful tree at the far end of the lawn from Eskdale youth hostel, and were sung to sleep by the evening chorus or birds, some of whose calls I had never heard before.
For me, the purpose of the first two days' hiking was to reconnoitre two routes on which I had been given work later in the summer.
On Sunday 29th May, in very fine summery weather, we headed to Wasdale Head and walked slowly to the summit of Scafell Pike via Lingmell Gill , Brown Tongue, and Hollow Stones, taking in the view as we went, and looking for places were the route might not be so obvious in poor conditions. On the way down, we took a short detour via Lingmell and Goat Crags, and cooled off in one of the pools where the footpath splits for Wasdale Head or Brackenclose.
On Monday 30th May, also in very fine summery weather, we headed to Great Langdale, and parked in the National Trust car park under Raven Crag. From there we walked along the valley floor to Oxendale, then up to Brown Howe past the Markeens, then on to the saddle just north of Red Tarn, were we turned right and followed the path past Great Knott to Long Top. Along the section from Crinkle Crags to the Three Tarns, I was disappointed at how features which on the ground were very obvious, did not stand out clearly on the map (OS 1:25,000). At the Three Tarns we turned right and made our way back via the Band, then had a very satisfying nosh-up at the New Dungeon Ghyl Hotel.
On both of those days, we probably looked like the worlds' worst hikers, because of the amount of time we spend carefully studying the map and exploring all the wrong turns off the right route, so that we could really learn the route and navigate it confidently in poor conditions or at night. We really enjoyed both days' hikes, which although hard work mentally, were taken at a gentle pace, with plenty of time for taking in the beauty of the extraordinarily fine views.
On the Tuesday, with the serious business of reconnaissance over, we went for a lazy stroll without rucksacks, and basked in the glorious sunshine in the complex of little bowls and valleys behind Eskdale youth hostel, in the drainage basin of Blea Beck.
On the Wednesday we braved the M6 and trundled back to the West Country to get on with the rest of our lives.
Sunday, 8 May 2016
Dartmoor hike, afternooon of 4th May 2016
I was already in Dartmoor for a business trip, and not wanting to waste a beautiful free afternoon there, I went for an easy solo hike just for the sheer joy of being out in the sunshine in a place I did not know. I started at Two Bridges and went generally north, fording the West Dart River to gain access to the west flank of Bear Down, then continued via the path beside the small canal, past the weir, and on to Rough Tor, then back along the line of tors to Two Bridges.
DofE Bronze expedition, 1st & 2nd May 2016
Back to the Ashdown Forest again.
The highlight of the evening before was an absolutely stonking take-away pizza from Domino's Pizza in East Grinstead, and drifting off to sleep afterwards to the rhythmic lullaby of the late-evening steam trains on the Bluebell Line.
The next day was clear and bright and perfect for hiking, and the boys I was supervising all did well, striding out in good heart, and learning their fieldcraft and how to cross roads safely, and the like, and in the evening learning how to cook safely and get their tents up for a good night's sleep.
On the second day they walked without me walking with them, arrived at all their checkpoints on time, managed to not get lost, and arrived at their destination in good form. Well done, boys.
I was working for Undercover Rock, with boys from a school in London.
The highlight of the evening before was an absolutely stonking take-away pizza from Domino's Pizza in East Grinstead, and drifting off to sleep afterwards to the rhythmic lullaby of the late-evening steam trains on the Bluebell Line.
The next day was clear and bright and perfect for hiking, and the boys I was supervising all did well, striding out in good heart, and learning their fieldcraft and how to cross roads safely, and the like, and in the evening learning how to cook safely and get their tents up for a good night's sleep.
On the second day they walked without me walking with them, arrived at all their checkpoints on time, managed to not get lost, and arrived at their destination in good form. Well done, boys.
I was working for Undercover Rock, with boys from a school in London.
Monday, 11 April 2016
DofE Silver practice expedition, 30th March to 1st April 2016
This was my first DofE expedition at Silver level. Unfortunately, the group to which I had been assigned had a participant drop out, taking it below the minimum size allowed, so its members were dispersed to other groups, and I worked with another supervisor in a larger group.
The expedition took place in and around the Ashdown Forest in Sussex, an area I had never been to before.
I was working for Peak Expeditions, with boys from a school in Surrey.
The expedition took place in and around the Ashdown Forest in Sussex, an area I had never been to before.
I was working for Peak Expeditions, with boys from a school in Surrey.
Sunday, 27 March 2016
DofE Bronze practice expeditions, 5th-6th and 12th-13th March 2016
These two consecutive weekends were taken up with my first and second DofE practice expeditions. On the first expedition I shadowed another instructor so that I could learn the ropes, and on the second expedition the Expeditions Manager shadowed me to make sure I had learned them properly -- very good and thorough.
The expeditions took place in the gentle undulating open countryside of Oxfordshire, between Wantage and the M4. This is ideal terrain for novice navigators to try out their new skills. The first expedition had rather wintry weather, but it was warm and sunny for the second expedition.
I was working for Peak Expeditions, with girls from a school in Abingdon.
The expeditions took place in the gentle undulating open countryside of Oxfordshire, between Wantage and the M4. This is ideal terrain for novice navigators to try out their new skills. The first expedition had rather wintry weather, but it was warm and sunny for the second expedition.
I was working for Peak Expeditions, with girls from a school in Abingdon.
DofE classroom work, 6th & 7th February 2016
This was my first piece of DofE classroom work, covering all the basic information and skills the youngsters need for a successful Bronze practice expedition, and ending with route planning; the expedition is in April.
I was working for Peak Expeditions, at a school in Weybridge in Surrey.
I was working for Peak Expeditions, at a school in Weybridge in Surrey.
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