We had the sporadic and slightly radical idea of using our existing savings on a van, instead of a mortgage deposit. We figured it would probably be a while before we were in a position to buy our own place and would probably need adult jobs first. So, since student life still hasn't come to end we started looking... This involved meeting some pretty dodgy people at suspect industrial estates across Leeds. Thankfully we found a great local company called Pro Vans (https://www.provans.co.uk/) that sold off their ex-fleet vehicles. We looked up the common faults online and attempted to check everything as thoroughly as we could (with a bit of help from friends). Pro Vans were really good and agreed to fix some of the paint scuffs and areas of rust we noticed, whilst also knocking a bit of money off (result). Transferring the money was a bit daunting, so I triple checked the bank details to be sure. This was the most amount of money I had ever transferred. Although, doing it digitally was a little bit less dramatic that the last car I bought in cash when the bank had to open the safe. It was an exciting day to be driving off down the road in a van, something I thought was not going to be an option until I had finished my PhD. Instead the present to myself came two years earlier than expected. Adventures here we come... Apparently, Charlie said that people in the delivery industry refer to these as 'my hermes' vehicles. Since we were looking for a suitable name, we opted for 'Herman'. This may have been linked with a certain J.K Rowling book that somebody listens to regularly. Also, herman has got something to do with starter culture for bread. And this was going to the be the start of a new approach to weekends for us. Thankfully we randomly decided to invest right before Covid-19 struck and social isolation thrust itself into our lives. This gave us a great project and distraction to work on most days whilst staying at home. We are only a week or so in and I think I may have gone mad without something to distract me which wasn't work. One of the first jobs we did once we were proud owners of our new wagon was removing the bulkhead. This was so that any snooping opportunists could see that there was nothing kept in there overnight. It made us feel better and sleep a little easier. The next discussion was what do we do with this beast.. would somebody want to buy it.. would we make anything via scrap metal? We investigated, and at present, it is still on Gumtree for free with no interest. Scrap metal calculations worked out at about £1.50. This explains why the camper van garage had loads sitting outside. Once we had taken the ply boards up we quickly realised how many holes were in the floor, it was like a collider. We filled these with fibre glass, which took a while to dry in the below 10c temperature. Vans are really cold with no insulation. Charlie did this job whilst I was at work and strangely counted the number of holes, which was 146 (random). She made some van friends amongst the tradesmen fixing the water pipes outside our house that week. One said 'thats a right good van there, but by ek do them inges rust' (good old Yorkshire accent). Don't worry it's on the massive and ever-growing list. At first, I thought sound deadener was either a joke or a marketing ploy to empty people’s wallets. Having done some research online it turns out I was wrong. Rather than paying loads for the 'correct' stuff Charlie thought that roof flashing has very similar properties. This self-adhesive lead replacement is very dense, pliable, and also saved a load of money. Having warmed it up on the radiator (it was a cold morning) we stuck it onto the larger flat panels to reduce the vibrations and low frequency noises. We lathered rust eater solution onto the areas of metal work in and around the back that we thought may have rust spots. Thankfully, since we bought a pretty new van there weren't many areas to treat. After about 20mins this reacted with any traces of rust and sealed them by turning black. We were surprised with what appeared fresh paint actually reacted (£4.50 well spent). We then painted over this with several coats of Hammerite paint (well Screwfix's own version actually) which worked well. You could barely make out the rust solution or fibre glass repairs we did. We watched a few videos on YouTube showing how people had laid their floors. Once suitably informed we felt pretty anxious about screwing down through the floor many times. We quickly figured out pre-drilling the metal resulted in a neater hole, and also that the design of the vehicle was pretty smart. If screwing through the raised floor sections, with the right sized metalwork, it sat a reasonable distance from all the important things underneath, like the massive fuel tank (Gulp). I did a lot of checking underneath before committing to some of these, which got a lot more casual towards the end. Acting on advice from my Dad, we also fixed the wood with adhesive (picture above) which was also a sealant and flexible. Called OB1, it was expensive but apparently used widely in the building trade. Once the batons were suitably spaced with noggins fitted, we tackled the massive sheets of Kingspan that were cluttering our front room. Cutting this with a sharp Stanley knife seemed to work the best, as the handsaw peppered the street in tiny plastic particles (sorry environment). We finished up with rolls of aluminium tape to seal around the edges of the insulation.
Seeing as only the vans software had been updated, we also opted for belt and braces and got an uprated lock fitted. I thought it may be tricky finding someone to fit a very specific lock cylinder, but it tuns out there were a few places around the corner that did it. Van Locks Leeds (https://vanlocksleeds.co.uk/) did an amazing job and they were very familiar with the weaknesses of the Transits security. An hour later (whilst reading a book on a nice piece of grass in the sun staying 2m away from other humans and conscious that if somebody came close we would be classified as a social gathering) everything was sorted. It turned out to be money well spent as the previous lock cylinder had had a break in attempt and some of the metal and components were broken. Cue an even better nights sleep. The next job involved cutting self-adhesive foam insulation to fit the various nooks and crannies. We quickly realised that although the Ford Transit Custom looks quite sleek from the outside, this causes a nightmare on the inside. Every panel was different and very sculpted in multiple directions. Progress was glacial. Patience well and truly tested, we were pretty happy with our level of precision and reckon we could get a job working for NASA. Saturn 5 rocket eat your heart out. Well maybe, an internship... We were excited to progress to the next stage and rip open the recycled bottles which had been cluttering up the front room for days. This was polyester wadding and worked a dream to fill up all of the awkward cavities, which there were many. No issues with being irritating, and small chunks could be pulled off really easily. If it were hazardous, then we would have been screwed as all the dust masks were long gone. The next mini hurdle involved electrics. We didn't want to wrap the existing cables with insulation and potentially risk turning into a fireball heading down the M1. Having realised that regular electrical conduit is a bugger to cut lengthwise, and fearing for my fingers, we shelled out for some split casing. Turned out that orange was cheaper too. Result! We could drive along with the lights on, not concerned about an impromptu inferno. Then a friend told me low current cables don't produce much heat. Oh well. A local company Van Trim in Otley (http://www.van-trim.co.uk/#1) sorted us right out. Frazier was a top guy and gave us loads of advice, and did a great job of our windows. It was cool looking at the campers in his workshop at different stages of conversion. Mostly VW Transporters, standard. It was nice he was happy to help with individual aspects of the project rather than demanding an all or nothing approach.
We have done many more jobs recently, such as laying vinyl, carpeting the walls, and fitting a solar panel. I will make a camper blog part II soon. Stay safe and watch this space :)
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Adventure number three of the year started with a moral maze. Apparently, after three or more flights a year travellers are in the top 10% of frequent fliers in the UK which contributes a considerable chunk of CO2 into the atmosphere. I wondered whether this impact is counteracted by the fact that I walk to and from work each day!? Unsure, I told myself next year’s adventures will be closer to home. Although, there are some people that smash that statistic, as the lady sat next to me on the plane had a holiday home in Spain and travels out about ten+ times per year! Maybe a frequent flier tax should be targeting people like that..? Anyway, moral maze partially navigated, we focused our attention towards negotiating Malaga at night as we started to head into the mountains threading our way around twisty roads. Feeling hungry and seeing the only indication of sustenance on route, we called in to investigate. Upon asking whether food was still available, naturally the barman directed us to the most expensive thing on the menu. We were hungry, and it was 10pm, and a local dish had been recommended, so we didn't offer much resistance. We were presented with a selection of meats (veggie diet was clearly on hold in Spain), olives, salsa, bread and several cold crisp beers. With our bellies full and having navigated our way through El Chorro's bomb crater tracks we arrived at the accommodation. Originally it was just Jason and I booked in, but since the property said it can sleep four, we invited Dan along as we had already paid. Upon entering, we quickly saw a double bed all made up and a bunk bed with no bedding. Cue feelings of WTF! Jas contacted the booking agent, to which the reply was 'you only paid for two adults'. I like the way they presumed the two adults were a couple that were prepared to share a double bed. Me and Jas would still fit that criteria, but spooning would proably not be our first choice... Whilst figuring out what to do, we lit the fire and had a cup of 'Hornimans' tea (fairly amusing since I was about to share a bed with another guy). Since Jas had booked it, he felt bad about the situation and opted to take the bunk with no bedding. That left me and Dan in the double. We arranged a system of wrapping ourselves in various items of bedding and slept like pencils trying not to touch or make eye contact (or at least I did). I may have also taken down and used the curtain for added insulation due to doubts over the level of warmth offered by one blanket. We shortly noticed there was a fourth guest in the form of a mouse. We didn't really mind sharing with him/her, but this cohabiting relationship turned a little sour when it broke into my lunch box in the night seeking high calorie peanut butter snack bars. The impressive thing was, to climb onto the kitchen worktop it had to scale the horizontal bricks like in the fireplace pic above and climb around the worktop which stuck out an inch or so! Clearly it had been working out! In the morning Jas mentioned the mouse and that we needed more beds and were prepared to pay for guest number three. Tada, another room in the complex was opened for us and a humane trap was delivered.
The weather for El Chorro looked great for all of the days before and after our trip. Not to be defeated and in British spirit we braved the mizzle/rain and headed up to a section of the crag for some easy climbs. Despite the wet we managed several easy single pitch routes, with the conditions adding another grade of difficultly or so. On the plus side, it forced us to be very precise with our foot placements. It was just nice to be away from the city and switch off from a very busy semester at work. It also felt very nice to be clipping bolts on real rock rather than faffing around trying to find and place gear. You could just focus on the movement. I haven't really climbed on sport much outdoors, it's mainly been trad (where you have to place your own protection) but I could definitely see the appeal and why European climbers can pull so hard. Because the weather forecast was pretty rubbish for day two, we ended up having way too many drinks on the first night. Feeling rough and not up for choosing to get drenched on holiday, me and Dan opted to stay inside. I caught up with some PhD work on the laptop (despite much ridicule) and Dan had some more beauty sleep. I don't think he was used to drinking so much. Also, leading five modules in one term had taken its toll on him too! Deciding against visiting Gibraltar for the day the others headed out to do the Via feratta in the gorge, which looked pretty good from the pics. I think they managed to avoid most of the rain. Hey ho, I would like to come back to El Chorro and this will be on the agenda next time. Always good to leave with something else to do. The third day's weather was a lot better which was nice. Thankfully we hadn't used all of our carbon footprint, spare cash, and brownie points amongst partners for the year to climb in the rain which we could do back in the UK. We opted for a larger multi pitch route. It was around 380m of climbing over ten pitches, I think, on easy(ish) terrain. There were still some wet areas left from the day before. We also met some other friends from work out there and we all climbed the route together which was very social with the five of us. Upon reaching the top and on the decent path down it was a perfect illustration of how outdoor leaders operate. Everyone seemed to think the others were heading along the wrong path and took it upon themselves to find their own way over the boulders and through the pine trees, despite all ending up in the same place eventually. Brilliant. El Chorro village basically consists of a rail station, hotel, a supermarket that is never open despite saying 'seven days a week' on the sign, and this little cafe. The only people visiting this area in Dec were climbers really and there were quite a lot of Brits and some Germans. We sat out in the sun enjoying our 1-euro beers. There was also a considerable umbrella of cannabis odour that hung in the air surrounding this place every time we visited. Not to endorse stereotypes, but I think it was the guys with dreadlocks. It probably calmed the nerves and helped their climbing. Later that evening, some of the group mulled over whether they were posh enough to enter the four-star hotel for dinner. Once a decision had been made, we enjoyed good food and way too many beers throughout the evening. Dave, the guy in red above, apparently Yorkshire's 'toughest man' (although, I must have missed the vote) kept providing the group with more beers. Dan attempted to resist but, his assertions of 'no I'm good thanks' were clearly not strong enough on several occasions. The hotel staff started to clear up around us, which was our cue to leave.
It soon become very vertical and exposed which this pic somewhat depicts. You can always tell how full on a day is by how many pics were taken. Day one I ended up taking a phone call from Charlie whilst on the route about a cup of milk being spilt in the projector at home by a friend’s child. This route yielded only a handful of pics amongst all four of us! Despite being a popular route the rock was pristine, with numerous features that were often sharp which took their toll on the hands (I htink I have a new set of fingerprints). It demanded such a variety of moves the whole way up, including overhangs, slabs, roofs, pockets, and everything else in between. There were some pretty bold moves in very exposed places. The strong wind physically moved us around with our bags acting as sails which didn’t help the feeling of security. Thankfully I was climbing with the 'rope gun' Jason who is pretty damn unflappable. He did a great job of leading sections when my fear-o-meter was overly sensitive. I have written this into various blog articles over the past few years, concluding I need to get out more often. This is somewhat harder to do than say as my mind is usually totally consumed by PhD work and too often the weekends spring upon me without anything planned. In the cafe later we concluded the route was probably a 6a rather than a 5c, but since it is in the guidebook as a top 50 they were unlikely to change the grade. This is the story we told ourselves and it made me feel a bit better. Jason looking very pleased to be at / near the top as he led more pitches than expected due to me whussing out. Alongside the physicality of climbing hundreds of metres of challenging rock, it's a battle of attrition with ones focus and nerves also. In some ways it is more of a workout for the head than the muscles. It is also a test of how resistant your skin is to coarse rock and toes are to being crammed into shoes far too tight for long periods. There were several times where I had to remind myself, I had chosen to do this, and we were on holiday. Type II fun maybe (when it is not fun at the time, but fun looking back). Having topped out to handshakes and feelings of satisfaction, we abseiled down to a flattish section of scree to eat our lunch. We noticed several small mountain deer surrounding us just relaxing in the sun totally unconcerned by our presence which was nice. They probably thought crazy humans up here tip toeing across these scree slopes in funny shoes with their silly ropes. Once we had successfully negotiated the descent hazards and almost losing Jason down the slope with a sprained ankle, we opted to visit the local town and civilisation for pizza. This would be our second time during the trip, but for 7 euros each it would be rude not too. What a great week, full of great people, laughter and climbing. We will be back El Chorro as I want to feel stronger and less bothered by the exposure and challenging climbing.
To celebrate Charlie finishing her Masters and to catch up with family, we decided head to Mallorca for a week in the sun. I had wanted to visit this popular island for a while as it seems one of the rare places where beaches and mountains coalesce. I think it was the Brits abroad reputation of Magaluf that probably held me back for so long. Determined to avoid overweight British people on sun loungers drinking beer before midday we booked our flights. Having been collected from the airport by Charlie's cousin Catherine, we headed into the city to explore for the afternoon. Despite Palma being the gateway to this well-established party destination, it felt a very traditional Spanish town with narrow streets and tall buildings that blocked out the sun. We got lost in the labyrinth of old meandering streets, took in the beautiful cathedral building (top pic), and found this very old olive tree pride of place in a city square. The marathon was in town, so there were several very fit people running around in the 30-degree heat. Rather them than me. Cat and Alex were very generous hosts allowing us to stay in their new apartment. We spent a lot of time relaxing on the roof top balcony reading books and unwinding. Day two, we all went out for a hike along one of the coastal paths and stumbled upon a massive cave. It was probably big enough to fly a small plane through. We also found some old abandoned buildings which was apparently a disused military complex. It was great exploring with somebody that grew up on the island as Alex knew lots about the local history. The guys investigated the buildings and the ladies took cactus cuttings to put in the washed-up cushion cover. This is now on the chair next to the PC at home and minus years of salt it has come up a treat in the washing machine. Charlie is a true womble and delights in finding treasures in all sorts of places. Exploring Mallorca was great as you could get hot and sweaty whilst walking in the sun and finish with a dip in the sea. The only downside was I forgot to bring my swimming shorts. Obviously still habitualised with English customs. Deciding whether to brave the boxer shorts (sorry for that image) and noticing numerous women old and young topless on the beach next to me, my British prudishness soon receded. It was so novel to swim in the sea - which was fairly warm - after a hike and great to include the two contrasting things we both enjoy in the same outing. Sat on a bin bag in the car with wet shorts, we headed off towards the infamous Magaluf on the way home. We thought it would be interesting to see what it was like during the day. The beach was pretty nice, and there were countless shoreside bars and restaurants with a string of grimy looking clubs tucked away behind. The transparent swimming pool elevated in the air was quite impressive from an engineering perspective. Although, you would have to be quite body confidant to swim in it, as everyone below would get a full and uninterrupted view. We even heard rumours from other friends they have women dressed as mermaids that you can pay for some naughtiness. That evening we went out for tapas and drinks at a local bar, which was amazing. I wasn't fully sure what tapas was if I'm honest. But 3 euros for a beer and chunk of sourdough bread topped with all sorts of goodness was pretty good value. Again, thanks to locals showing us around we could avoid the tourist prices. What struck me was how busy it was on a weeknight and how locals could go out to socialise and even drink on the streets in an adult and civilised manner. In the UK if people were allowed to drink in public, I'm fairly confident there would be at least one person being sick in the gutter by 11pm. On the continent, the culture endorses responsible drinking. Wine for lunch during the working day, why not. Why can we not seem to get that balance right back home and only adopt an 'all or nothing' mindset!? Rant over Day three we went solo from our Spanish guides and got the bus into the mountains to explore a small village called Soller which is where the GR 221 (long distance hiking trail) passes through. This place was nestled within a cluster of fairly large peaks and was a beautiful place to spend a day. We were surrounded by tourists, hikers, and cyclists all soaking up the environment. But we had booked the leisurely option, so instead of pounding the trail or pedals we pottered around the quirky shops and eat food and ice-cream in the square whilst watching the hustle and bustle and regular trams. Lovely. Day four we test drove these little beauties. Cat rode with us through Palma towards the coastal path. The cycle lanes out there were amazing! We crossed the city entirely in an exclusive bike lane, with a divide from cars, not like our painted strip in England. It doesn't seem rocket science to get more people out of their cars and more physically active. Just make it more attractive for bikes and the NHS could save millions. These city bikes could accelerate very quickly with their tiny wheels but got a bit wobbly once reaching higher speeds. We spent the morning swimming in the sea and checking out the big shoals of fish with our snorkels. It felt like a proper holiday now and ages since doing this. Often my tips are full of adventures, which do not lend themselves well to taking a break and slowing down. Instead you often feel like you need a holiday to recover from the first one. Relaxing is something I am working on. In that spirit we on the beach catching up with Cat, surrounded by more naked women sunbathing (regular theme here) whilst taking in the view back across to Palma. Watching a cruise ship head back out on its voyage we wondered where was next on its itinerary. Our bike ride extended further around the coast and we ended up in the German version of Magaluf. Apparently, the Brits and Germans are purposefully kept apart and within their respective version of party land. We sipped cold crisp cokes whilst people watching trying to figure out whether the alternate version offered anything different other than accents. With no firm conclusions we headed back and got slightly lost within the labyrinth of the old town and marathon traffic. Thanks to Google maps and free EU data roaming we arrived back safely for a dinner party with Cat, Alex and some of their friends which was nice. The final day of our trip we headed back out for another hike. This time it was a route that Cat and Alex had already done. We followed the GR221 for a section through the hills and soon realised why it was referred to as the dry-stone route with its numerous rows of stacked stone walls. Check out my massive mozzie bite on my arm. I had several like this on the trip, which no amount of frantic antihistamine cream rubbing could solve whilst away. It took several months for the skin to return to normal whilst home and there is still a faint mark now. Clearly those critters have been hitting the gym. We stopped for lunch at a beautiful little spot overlooking this bay. In typical Spanish style the menu included a range of meat and sausages, cheese, garlic, and bread! It tasted fantastic, but I did wonder how the Mediterranean diet is so healthy when they consume so much fat and oil, with minimal fibre and veg...? Although, during our time on the island, an overweight person was a rare sight and those we did notice were probably not Spanish. Maybe it was the undulating terrain, or the climate encouraging people to get outside and be active, or the beach element prompting people to look their best in minimal clothing. I'm not fully sure but there is a lesson to learn there somewhere. We passed a rock similar to this one above just out to sea which was covered in people. As we got closer it seemed most were draped over the rocks completely naked like seals bathing in the sun. One guy was snorkelling naked and another lady was aligned so that any incoming boats would get a full view of her undercarriage. There was a mix of genders, mostly in their 20-30's, all sat side by side or swimming in the sea just chatting. The clothes in Spain did appear to be very slippery and did not seem to stay on for very long. Again, we finished the walk in true Mediterranean style and went for a dip here at this beautiful cove. There was a row of very swanky yachts parked up just out to sea with the owners having come ashore in their ribs (small boats) and were enjoying the spoils of the waterside restaurant. Alex and I spent a bit of time exploring some of the rocks nestled off the beach and jumped off a largeish chunk into the water (thankfully in my swimming shorts this time). The ladies were a bit more tentative (probably smart - there is a reason why guys die younger) and decided to put on their best Scouse brows in the form of seaweed to much laughter. The week had flown by, but we went away feeling like we had explored a fair amount of the island, and certainly bits that we wouldn’t have without the benefit of local knowledge. Thanks to you both for putting us up and showing us around your beautiful home. As lovely as Yorkshire is, the reciprocal offer to stay in Leeds didn't seem quite so appealing.
As a break away from PhD life, Jason and I decided to head over to Switzerland for a few days of mountains, exposure, and climbing. We had made it to Dover on the first leg of our pretty epic road trip. Next we checked in and on route to the ferry, obviously looking a bit dodgy, we got ushered into the border force area for the van to be searched. Trying to hide our amusement, the lady flicked a torch around inside the back which took about 10 seconds. Despite the fairly lame inspection, we were just glad the rubber gloves stayed put.... We had been deemed honest citizens and were allowed on our way to grab a coffee and enjoy the pleasant view of the chalk cliffs whilst waiting to board. Driving across Europe was a fairly lengthy affair. France was vast and it seemed like nobody was home. There were fields and wind turbines but minimal people, which made a refreshing change from the UK. Once it got dark, we thought it best to put on the light converter stickers. Whoever designed those instructions needs to re-evaluate their product. Feeling proud of our efforts we got underway, although, what started to emerge was a pattern of trucks and then cars flashing us (not the amusing kind). We had obviously cocked up the translation somewhere and ended up pissing off half of France (the ones that were home). Sixteen hours of travelling later (with only one wee stop), we had arrived in Switzerland not far from the exciting vertical stuff that lay ahead. Testament to Jason's camel sized bladder and enduring attention. After driving around beautiful Lake Geneva, we headed to a local via ferratta in a place called Champery. This idyllic alpine village was surrounded by mountains and felt a lovely place to start our trip. The route was graded 'difficult' and started off ascending next to a waterfall with wire bridges crossing the falls kicking up a refreshing spray. It felt good to be on rock and the new Petzl gloves were working like a dream. There were some powerful sections on the route which required a bit of grunt pulling on metal staples around overhangs, but this was short lived, and we were soon at the top. Two guys followed us on the route. On the flat one guy walked like John Wayne with a massive limb, or like he had two wooden legs, but on the rock and staples he was rapid! Then back to the laboured gait, once we topped out. Funny. Sadly, I dropped my camera case on this route, which highlighted my via ferratta set up needed some fine tuning for next time round. With a stroke of luck, as soon as we started our long trudge back down to the valley, we were met by this funky little tourist train. We asked whether we had to pay, to which the reply came 'no just jump on', with us happily obliging. This little beauty made the descent a breeze and we got dropped off right next the carpark and van (result). We had earnt a pint and being Switzerland, this cost a fiver (for a coke). It was worth every franc sitting in the sunny square gazing out and through the big peaks feeling very content. We attempted to convince another friend from uni to join us, but he made his excuses. Apparently via ferratta doesn't sit well with a mountain purist.
The next big undertaking on the itinerary was another via ferrata in a place called Leukerbad which was graded 'extreme'. It also just so happened to be the longest and hardest in Switzerland (gulp). Parked in a layby just down the valley from this beast looking up the night before I did feel a little anxious about what lay ahead. This thing was 2km long and scheduled to take around 6 hours of focus actually on the technical stuff, not including the walk in or walk out. The giant Swiss flag which was bolted to the rock around the midpoint looked a long way up and very small from down here. We woke to the sound of a 'knock knock' on the vans window. Cue Jason springing to his feet to greet the mystery guest and a perk of not owning the vehicle. It's the Police came the response. Apparently overnight camping was illegal in this layby. Although, there was no signage around, but he was polite and told us to not be here another night, which was fair enough. We thought some villagers may have tipped him off about our location and apparent audacity. We decided to leave the van in-situ (or to save paying for a car park) and cycle up to the cable car up in the village. We looked pretty cool with mountain boots and climbing helmets on bikes. The steep unrelenting ascent was made a fair bit harder by the fact I was on Jason’s sons bike and my knees were around my chest on each rotation of the pedals. It’s a rare treat when things are too small for me (doesn't happen often). I pulled in to raise the seat and Jas took great satisfaction that he had burnt me off. We ummed and arghed about shelling out for the cable car, but despite the £25 fee, it was definitely worth it! Jas also seemed to be tentative, then whipped out an annual pass he had already paid for... It was clearly all for effect. As we ascended and peered down, the walk looked absolutely brutal up never ending switchbacks. Anybody crazy enough to purposefully extend this epic route would arrive knackered, emotionally drained, sweaty, and probably regretting their 'tight ass' decision to save a few quid. The rich person version of mountaineering felt goood. We met some other pairs also doing the route today and the son-dad combo had clearly splashed out in Decathlon as all their matching kit was gleaming. They were polish, with impeccable English, and obviously were doing alright back home as the guys wallet was fat with swiss francs (couldn't help but notice when he paid for the cable car). Minor moment of terror! Overhead a helicopter carrying a large bag of something slung underneath up the mountain, which was spinning around violently with the down draft. Suddenly, what looked like a large rock (microwave-fridge sized) flew out of the bag sideways and plummeted to whatever was underneath. I couldn't see where it fell, but there was a footpath and buildings close by!! Then further up a long piece of what Jas thought was metal flew out and crashed down the rocks above...Whatever happened to Swiss reliability!? Glad to not be underneath the deathcopter we made it to the route and made rapid progress upwards. The route got steep pretty quickly, and during many moments we were actually climbing, with hands and feet having to pick holds on the rock. That wouldn't be a problem since we were both confidant climbers, but what made it scary was how loose the rock was. When tapping massive flakes of rock to clip the carabiners into the wire it sounded hollow for way longer than was comfortable. Focusing on not dislodging stones/rocks/half the crag on people below took a fair amount of concentration. There were certainly some sections that required some pretty powerful moves and others that were exposure-tastic. The single rods for feet focused the mind somewhat. Especially with the massive drop beneath. The cloud was a welcome addition at moments like this... We had also not really seen as many ladders as part of the route before, as there were loads bolted to the mountain. These required particular technique to remember to unclip as you ascended, finding a stable position to swap clips around, and ensuring to not stand on your cows tails. The thought of how far you would actually fall and how much it would hurt if you slipped was always on the mind. Routes like this are as much a test of emotional control as they are physical fitness. Being honest the postman’s walk was not a welcome sight. The drop beneath was vast, and I was not hugely looking forward to my turn. Jas did a good scared face for the camera! That's what he'd like you to think... I just focused on technique whilst shuffling across and tried to not look beyond my feet. Although, transferring cows tails at the midpoint focused the mind. Beyond this point was the crux of the whole route as it entered the mountain. We threaded through a massive chimney and sections were near enough dark, which again made clipping pretty challenging. It was more of a stab in the dark whilst hoping to have clipped something sturdy... Having decided against the easy option due to wet slippy rock, so not really the easy option, we had to pull hard to negotiate the steep overhand and several bridges across the chasm. This was one of the last ladders, after like 5hrs of balancing on pegs, pulling on cables, and doing one legged presses. The muscles were drained by this point and it felt pretty overhanging towards the middle. Fighting off forearm cramp I was very glad to get to the top! Hats off to the team that put this route up, as it was very impressive... Having finally made the top after 6hrs of via ferratta we were physically and emotionally knackered (well I certainly was). We enjoyed the moment with the other groups and shared some multi-language accounts of the route. The peak was just over 3000m and having done no acclimatisation other than cycling up the hill on our bikes, I definitely noticed the altitude during the day with some heavy breathing. It was a route that kept on giving and it felt good to have completed the longest and hardest one in Switzerland. Another guy mentioned he had done the hardest in Austria and that was a lot easier (feeling of smugness). The walk down was cool (literally) as we slid across the fairly deep snow at the top trying to avoid the icy streams below. The U-shaped valley behind was impressive and must have been carved by a massive glacier. It was a pleasant walk across the alpine meadow back to the cable car hut to descend back to the valley for drinks and hopefully not a parking ticket! Next day we drove, well Jas actually, to the mega slab at Miroir d'Argentine. We met a nice local guy and took in the route above, deciding it looked massive!! Also, realising we had not practiced on many large multi pitches for a while, and we were too late in the day to start really. Most people seemed to have camped the night before to make sure they started early. Weighing all of this up, we decided to head to another crag and come back to tackle this beast with a bit more knowledge and preparation in the bag. The grade of climbing was not the problem, it was more the scale of the route, and amount of time it would take. The crag we arrived at was full of easy bolted routes with solid unpolished rock and amazing views. Not quite the adventure we had planned, but still an enjoyable day. After four routes and feet feeling hot and sore from climbing shoes, I did think hhhmmm attempting the Miroir d'Argentine will probably require different forms of preparation. Cardio fitness for the walk in and off, practice climbing together to minimise faff, time spent in our rock shoes for several hours in the heat, climbing endurance for the long route, and exposure and emotional tolerance and regulation. Suppose that's why climbing is a cool sport - there is so much involved. After our unexpected day of multi-pitching on pristine limestone somewhere else, and a lot smaller, we arrived at the cafe with a bit of entertainment in the background. The Swiss military were training hard and arranged two armoured vehicles back to back with all of the hatches open. The challenge involved darting in and out of every hole on both vehicles which also involved a jump between the back doors. They would then spin around on the spot many times and have to try and walk a straight line. There was much cheering and wooping from the audience on the hill. It looked like great fun, and also a mild form of drinking games. Still, it provided some smiles whilst sipping our drinks. We awoke on the final day to rain. We had been very lucky so far since everyday had been dry. The UK had a full week of rain (cue feeling of slight smugness). Since Jas had bikes with him, we decided to go for a ride around Lake Geneva (not the whole thing). It was busy with tourists being the summer holidays, but it felt satisfying to hang out with the 'rich folk' for free (parked for free, cooked our own lunch, and travelling around for free). Dipping our feet in the lake watching SUP's, banana boats, and swimmers whilst eating ice-cream was very pleasant, and a nice way to chill on our final afternoon. That evening we randomly met up with one of Jas's friends from school. Bearing in mind they are both Aussies, went to school decades ago on the other side of the globe, and were now having a BBQ in Switzerland with a swiss wife, English guy, and Swiss children that spoke English with Australian accents. Still following. No, me neither. The week had flown, but provided a nice break from PhD life, the rain in the UK (sorry Charlie) and busy city life. Switzerland is a beautiful country and over the course of the week (which involved driving hundreds of miles) I did not see anywhere that countered this label. It was interesting comparing the socio-political systems of both countries and finding out more from locals about how the country worked. It was also nice to leave with something else in mind that we did not manage to complete....Miroir d'Argentine - we will be back!
We arrived at our holiday park for the evening. Crazily, this place was around number 20 of these similar places we passed on the coast road of N.Wales. We were amazed how many there were and wondered if organisation actually manage to fill these places in summer. We had booked Willaby (caravan) through a special deal in the paper as it was out of season and we treated it like a base camp to explore other areas. Many of the local tourist areas felt like places time had forgotten, with the world moving on and these places stuck in a parallel world. She probably had a larger front room that our flat in Leeds and a lovely fire to crank the heat up. Although, I think a colander held the warmth about as well, and a large mob of seagulls seemed to use our roof as a take off and landing strip. This bunch had a serious attitude problem, with their antisocial behaviour coming to and end around 7pm, but starting again around 5am..... I fancied my chances at catching them for some rehabilitation! UURRGGHH... We headed to the point of the north east coastline (Talacre Head) to have a look around. Having paid the local prices of 50p to park for a few hours, we pottered over to see the lighthouse. Apparently, this wonky structure was one of the oldest in Wales. Wrapping up to avoid the cutting wind we wandered the beach and found an interesting layer of clay right under the sand. Having realised this stuff was quite sticky and messy we opted to have lunch nestled within the impressive sand dunes. Using our Wild Wales book, we visited a rather spectacular water fall. Again, parking for 50p (very nice culture here England) we wandered over to the falls and pool, quickly realising the spray was formidable as it blasted us. They think the massive, fortified wall alongside was once built to house a waterwheel. Above the waterfall we admired views out across the Dee estuary, Irish Sea, and over to Anglesey. Next, we picked some wild garlic for our dinner that evening and explored the range of crags and caves littered around this space. The north Wales coastline is littered with old forts, castles, and ruins. The history here dates back a looong time. We were quite ignorant to much of this when locals told us some of the stories. Apparently Anglesey was gifted to one of the top military generals as a reward for something... We visited some of these and snapped away with thoughts of how challenging these would have been to build in the era. On the way to Anglesey we called in to Bangor as I was considering applying to the university. We visited a local hipster style coffee shop (Blue Sky cafe) which had great reviews and chatted to the very friendly owner / manager about Wales. He was clearly well educated, articulate, and informed about the local history and culture. It was interesting to hear about where the distaste for the English stemmed from, which when hearing about rich Englishmen owning mines and paying low wages for local labour was unsurprising. We checked out the university buildings (old and new) before returning to the car for our onward explorations. Thanks Bangor, it seemed a lovely little place. This place was surreal. Called Baron Hill Mansion, it used to be a very grand and impressive stately home of a wealthy family (see below). Situated on the top of a hill looking out over a deer park, it would have once dominated the surrounding area. Today it has fallen into disrepair and the whole place is a ruin now. We walked around the footprint and it was fascinating to peer through the windows at all of the intricate features within. Fireplaces hanging from walls, plaster still on bricks, architraves around top floor doors, and abandoned staircases. It was an eerie feeling looking around, but very memorable and I would recommend it to anyone visiting Anglesey. We headed to the small village of Moelfre on the recommendation of the barrister in the coffee shop in Bangor. Having parked at the RNLI building, we set off to navigate the coastal path. The views out across the water towards the mountains of Snowdonia were impressive and it was nice to see the topography from an additional angle. We had lunch whilst watching sea birds on a small island in the foreground of the vista behind. A little further around the coast we found out about the Royal Charter shipwreck tragedy. Sadly, a clipper ship travelling from Australia to Liverpool ran aground on the home stretch off the north Wales coast during a heavy storm. Before radios and GPS, the last-ditch attempt to signal distress by firing a cannon proved futile. Over four hundred people lost their lives, despite the bravery of a local guy that attempted to row out and be a hero. The boat was carrying a significant amount of gold worth hundreds of millions of pounds as cargo which was lost in the wreckage. Since then some of this loot has been found or washed up on nearby beaches. We had coffee and cake in a very cute little pub outside in the garden (Anns Pantry), feeling very content peering through the houses to the sea and mountains behind.
This barren place which looked more akin to seeing the surface of Mars on the news was called the Copper Kingdom. This huge undulating hole in the ground had been mined for copper for over four centuries. All dug by hand because the owner refused to pay for mechanical assistance, it was an impressive feat of human labour! Apparently, it was once the largest copper mine in the world for a brief period. Underneath lay a labyrinth of tunnels and shafts, which were depicted in a very complicated looking map. We bumped into a group of Masters students and spoke to their tutor, who explained they were mapping the entire site over three days. I'm not sure if this sounded an impressive real-world project or just quite miserable, manning a laser tripod on top an exposed hill for a prolonged period. The wide range of colours present within the rocks were impressive. Heading back to the car we concluded it was a strange place, but pretty interesting. Deciding to not brave the driving to Anglesey and back again, we opted to head for the Conwy Head, or as it transpired was called the Great Orme. We parked in Llandudno and looked around the art gallery there. The building was pretty impressive, as is often the case with galleries, and got talking to the volunteer about the poured concrete structure. He was an architect (unsurprising since he clearly had time and money to volunteer) and very interested in Charlies course in Leeds and her future professional trajectory. With most of this going over my head, we said our goodbyes and headed for lunch in the sun. Miss Allen spent most of this worrying about an oversized seagull that was being fairly bold towards our lunch. Showing the creature who was boss she exerted her dominance and scared it off. Having walked along the very Victorian promenade and over towards the cable car, we realised it wasn't open for the summer season yet. A little deflated we turned full circle to go and find the tram. A little like what you see in San Francisco, we paid the spicy tariff and awaited our journey up the Great Orme. It was truly impressive the steep inclines that the tram could negotiate. We later learned that there were large cables underneath the tracks that the trams clamped onto and were pulled up by a large motor situated at different points up the hill. Looking around the visitor centre we met and older couple who used to live just down the road to us in Leeds. Sharing stories about our trips away to the Scottish Isles, they invited us to stay in their holiday home in outer Hebredies. It was a very generous offer and one we wondered whether this was due to their faith, as the business card he handed me had details of a Christian theme. Religion aside, we were taken aback by the offer of complete strangers. For anybody that believes the world is a dangerous place full of weird and selfish people, they may need to stop reading the news so much and get out a little more. We even caught a glimpe of two F-35 fighter jests overhead. The most expensive military project ever conducted certainly looked impressive to me.
The main Square in Bruges is very picturesque, which local business are fully aware of when checking out their prices to eat dinner. We decided to head a few streets away from the main tourist spot, which was a smart move. It was also very hard capturing a shot without other people in, with the best I managed this one with two. The cobbled streets were circumnavigated by visitors smiling from the back of horses and carriages. We went to investigate and realised it was fifty euros!! Wow, I mean it is pretty cool, but I would rather spend that on something else, like chocolate, and tiny wooden men. Maybe it's the culture of my temporary Yorkshire residence wearing off... or just something called sense? The canal system in and around Bruges was very novel for us, so we jumped on a boat to explore the city from a slightly lower level. The tall towers and spires seemed even more impressive from this angle. Although, we also wondered how buildings faired having their foundations permanently saturated in water? We didn't really find out the answer, but concluded they are still standing today and have been around for a while, so it can't be that destructive. We spotted this mobile artist just doing his thing on one of the bridges. He had all of the equipment strapped to a bike, easel and all, and sporadically darted around the cobbled streets to display his talents. I think it was a marketing stratergy for the stall where his work was displayed, but still quite cool nonethless. Bruges is very pretty during the day, and we really enjoyed getting lost and exploring the nooks and crannies. Although, at night, this beauty was amplified, especially with the fairy lights of the markets. We had to indulge in some of the local stereotypical delights when visiting Belgium. It was always going to happen, so we dived into the sugary goodness of a nice warm chocolatey waffle. I think the national proudness being displaying by the national flag is somewhat counteracted by the Styrofoam container. This was in a cafe too, so no excuses really. At least some extra glucose in the blood gave us a boost for more exploring. Thankfully the markets were a little quieter during the week, as apparently you could barely access the stalls on weekends, which is not surprising and sounded a lot less enjoyable. At least the traders that had clearly invested a lot of time, effort, and money into preparing their displays and goods were reaping the rewards. We saw some really cool handmade products that were good to peruse and ponder over their usefulness. Having explored most of Bruges in a day we decided to investigate visiting another place before we headed home. A quick drive along the continental coastline west we reached Ghent. This place had good recommendations from a friend in the military who was stationed not far from here for a while, and also google. Despite being a bit early for the markets, we explored the cities many shops, cafes, streets, churches and spires. Less busy and expensive than the tourist trap which is Bruges we felt this was a good decision. We even experienced a park and ride on trams which was exciting. This is a very pretty and fairly compact city that surprisingly had tens of thousands of young people due to the large university. In the student area we even saw an Oxfam that sold reduced price wine and had a large selection. Only in Europe would you find that. Come on England, I think we need something similar to this. After an enjoyable few days we were sad to be heading back to the Eurostar and the UK.
Charlie and I were long overdue a trip together as I had been away with other people, and we had both been given birthday money for trips and not spent it yet. Cue some planning. We both knew that we didn't really fancy a package holiday in the sun surrounded by slightly overweight English people drinking pints and reserving sun loungers at 9am in the morning. The original plan was to hire a campervan and do a road trip along the west coast of Ireland, but we were surprised at the cost of ferries and also extra cost of taking a hire vehicle over there (technically another country, so extra costs involved, sigh). Scotland it was then, as Charlie still had a list of places to go up north, so we started making plans to visit the Inner Hebrides, more specifically the Isle of Coll and Tiree as they had been on the list for a while apparently. Journey NorthWith the money we were intending to hire a van with, we ended up spending on a new tent instead (above). We got this retro looking beauty for far less than hiring a camper or even just regular panel van for two weeks (result). Although I was slightly sceptical of a tent made out of cotton, since that is the only protection between you and mother nature. Surely there is a reason we use nylon instead now...? This type of trip meant we had to take our own Mazda on the trip, which we questioned whether she had been to Scotland in her twenty + years of existence. This decision did come back to bight us slightly (more later). Since it was a long way, we opted to split the journey and called into Northumberland on the way up to rest the pensioners wheels. We seemed to be the focus of the campsite by our decision to deviate from the typical style of tent. First impression was it was pretty easy to pitch and very roomy. So far, so good. Next, we headed out to explore the art trail around the Kielder Reservoir. The art instillations Charlie had mentioned were far bigger than I imagined, with a full-size maze made out of stone and glass, and really cool little building sunk into the hill with a viewing hole on the top to observe the sky and light levels. It was cool seeing the clouds whisk past above and the strangely mesmerising drips that fell and echoed around the circular structure. Sadly, the telescope required booking in advance, although we did manage to check out the black sky and abundance of stars from the campsite. What a view, and one that makes you realise how much light pollution humans generate. Our flying visit to the North East was enjoyable and we planned to come back and finish off the trail on bikes. After a flying visit to Oban (it was raining again) and a very early start, we arrived at the ferry terminal for around 6.30. Why they go at this time I do not know, everyone looked a little weary. Having received an unnecessary amount of tickets, we handed the stack over to the attendant and were allowed to board. It was an awesome sight with the front of the boat hinged up and us driving into the bowels of the hull. Shame we didn’t have the camera ready. It was a pretty fresh start to the day with a cold breeze (as you can tell from the double wrapped head). but we had to get onto the top deck and check out the views along the way. Despite the chill in the air, the views back to the mainland as we sailed past the Isle of Mull were pretty spectacular. This was snapped on my phone I think... We past the Tobermory on the way and soon realised it was easy to spot who the tourists were as the locals lay asleep on the chairs. Obviously seen all this before. Isle of CollWe were excited to be arriving at our first destination of the trip. It was nice to be doing something together away from Leeds and exploring somewhere new for both of us.
Once we had checked into the only campsite on the island, met our hosts and their pack of tiny dogs, and put the tent up, we headed out to explore the local beaches on foot. It turns out there were two castles perched right on the beach next to each other. This one pictured is the more modern of the pair, which is currently uninhabited, although rumours suggested it had been bought as a holiday home and will soon be restored. The other considerably older structure with just tiny slits for windows, apparently had an elderly couple of around 80yrs living there, which is impressive considering the heating bill and number of stairs. On the plus side there were amazing views, and I suppose any tidal surges would probably be easily shrugged off. We were amazed, as is often the case in places like this, that nobody else was on the beach at all. This place was pretty big, and we were there just after the summer holidays, and still nobody. Great for us. We were surprised by the amount of plastic lay on the beaches in this fairly remote place. After the first stretch of sand we decided to try and loop around to the campsite and tick off some other bays on route. This was our first lesson learnt about the Isle of Coll, despite having a map and knowing where we were on it, and where we wanted to go. This idealistic desire did not come to fruition. Despite the short distance required, the terrain under foot was pretty tough going. We both only had shorts and approach shoes on, and the constant tufts of dense grass, presence of ticks, hidden bogs, very robust fences and lack of crossing points, we admitted defeat and returned to the campsite with our tails slightly lower than before. It seemed the island made you work for the hidden treasures and amazing views, which without that local knowledge of gates etc was slightly challenging.
There was only one town on the island (loose sense of the word) which had a shop, post office, hotel, and cafe. We headed over to get some supplies for the trip and gather our bearings, and on route just had to pull in to check out the views. Above is looking across to the Isle of Mull and seeing this most days did not get old. Traveling 20mph along the single-track carriageway staring across the water felt pretty relaxing. The island seemed like a rugged version of Dartmoor with lots of rock and heather, just a slightly bigger skyline in the distance. The meal we had in the cafe was top quality with great service. Interestingly, we felt on more than one occasion that Scotland seemed to do things well. Whether that was making jewellery, chocolate, whisky, or just food. We explored lots of beaches around the island during our four days, and I like this shot of the incoming rain clouds. We managed to get a little further before the clouds dumped their contents on us prompting a dive into the sand dunes to take shelter. These were probably the biggest range of sand dune I have ever seen, with some around 2o metres high that spanned a distance of half a kilometre in depth away from the beach. It was pretty fun negotiating our way through in the temporary lull from the wind. Charlie attempted to recreate the Castaway movie with a new friend she found called Wilson II. Was my company really that bad? After a conversation of 'I'm taking this home', we realised there wasn't really much we could do with Wilson (maybe the royal we there), so we left him on the beach. Charlie was in her element walking along the long beaches with her wombling eye always scanning for treasures to collect. Unsurprisingly she managed to fill many bags of trinkets during the two weeks we were away. Sadly, this involved sifting through way too much plastic, highlighting the impact humans are having on the natural world. This stuff just travels the oceans and will be around for thousands of years, breaking down into tiny part that are being consumed by animals, which often die, and then humans through eating fish. Not a great situation. This day was particularly windy with some strongish swell blowing into this side of the island, which made a good pic. For the first time on the trip we bumped into other people on one of the beaches. It was the couple from our campsite. The funny thing was there were so few people that lived on the island and the little tourists that were visiting regularly bumped into each other out and about. We saw the same faces for the few days we were there, which was quite nice actually and seemed a strong sense of community. Not ideal if you don't integrate well or want to find a partner I suppose. Although, interestingly most islanders on Coll were not actually Scottish and came from the south of England. Obviously had enough money to be able to relocate to somewhere beautiful, but not a huge range of job prospects. This shot just shows how few people visit this place. Getting a similar picture down south with no other footprints on a beach during midday would be challenging I'm sure. We also found out and visited a company based on the island that delivered international expeditions for teenagers all around the world. It had been founded here years ago and business was strong. It was a slightly surreal experience walking into the office to meet several highly educated and young professionals working there, which seemed a stark contrast to the local farmers on the island. The lady in the office tipped us off about a washed-up whale on the beach below, so we went down to check it out. A bit strange, but not something you see every day. Unsurprisingly, we smelt it before we saw it. This poor guy/girl obviously misjudged something and ended up in a sticky situation. We headed up to the high point on the island (all 140 or so metres of it) to take in the views. It was nice to deviate from beaches and sand and have a little scramble over some pristine granite slabs. It took a while to figure out the views as there were a lot of other islands around. Above is the Isle of Eigg with its snubbed nose of a crag. This place is pretty much only inhabited by birds and researchers we were told. I'm not even sure if it has a road, maybe just a track or two. This picture shows the beach with the unfortunate whale and beyond is the Isle of Tiree, which was next on the list. Out into the distance we could just about see the Outer Hebrides with the binos and both agreed we would also like to head out that way soon. The couple we met said they loved it. Strangely most people we met during these slightly unusual holiday destinations, had also done lots of other islands off the coast of Scotland. I suppose like us they realised their beauty and caught the bug of wanting to explore more. There are certainly lots to do, with many holding an air of inaccessibility and exclusiveness due to the remoteness. Most people, if not all actually, were white and fairly middle classed with a reasonable amount of money. Except us obviously, probably the only students on the island. We met another couple on the summit and chatted for a while about what the view in the distance was. I'm fairly sure this is the right picture as they all start to look similar after a while. The hills we could see were suggested as the Cuillins on the Isle of Skye, but I was fairly certain these were the Isle of Rhum. It was a third world problem really and a nice one to have... Later on having checked the map and google maps it was indeed Rhum, with Skye lying hidden behind the hills in the distance. I'm sure there was some sort of folklore story to this rock, like it was thrown from somewhere, but I hadn't been to the visitor centre yet (as it was shut on all the days we had been there) so in the meantime it was fun to play on. Turns out it was open all the time, they just didn't bother to change their fairly large sign from closed to open. Obviously not hugely bothered by the limited footfall linked with this. It was a fairly relaxed attitude up there. I really like this picture of the Demio parked up with the ferry in the distance and Rhum in the background. It's almost like a glossy catalogue back in the 90s for buying a new Mazda and the life it can lead to.... 'Explore the UK' with this little beauty. As you can tell from the pic parking involved just trying to stay out of the way of the road. There were no designated places or any tarmac to perch on, which made things tricky for the motor homes people brought up. For us it wasn't a problem really. This was the only section of dual carriageway on both islands, which made us smile as it was about 15 metres long and wasn't even a dual carriage way in the typical sense, as it was still single carriageway, just had two sides like most roads. Funnily the confusion it caused as you swung around the corner was probably more dangerous than just having a single-track road like everywhere else. Towards the end of our time on Coll we headed to the other end of the island which was far less populated and far rockier. About half of the island has no human presence and is a pretty large bird reserve. Having bagged the only parking space, we explored the pristine bay, again with nobody else there. We scrambled up onto the rugged rocks above and just sat for a while looking out across the water to all the surrounding islands. We had the binos (yes very old manish, but they are pretty good) and watched yachts making progress up wind, peaks in the far distance, and birds slightly closer. We had heard stories from others of seeing whales, dolphins etc, but as of yet we had failed to spot any. In the words of Richard Brandson, we were taking time to be human 'beings' rather than human 'doings', and it felt nice. I can understand the argument that primitive man was far happier than modern humans as they probably spent far longer doing things like this after collecting their food for the day. The water was probably the warmest it would be all year after the summer and it was nice to have a little paddle. The air temp sadly wasn't quite warm enough for the jacket to come off as the wind was fairly steady... So, no sun tan, but on the plus side there were no midges. Got to see the positives in Scotland, as they are not always easy to come by. We had lunch on this golden sand beach with it totally to ourselves, looking out across to Rhum. With the turquoise waters this shot could almost be in the Caribbean. We felt very privileged to have found this spot and be enjoying it uninterrupted. I know like mentioned earlier Scotland isn't as warm as other places, and the weather is a fair bit more unpredictable, with possibility of being eaten alive as soon as the wind drops, but wow it is spectacular! And if you have the kit to able to feel comfortable in places like this, there aren't many other places like it. It does make you work hard for the moments of tranquillity, and beauty, but they feel even better for it. It rewards you for your hard work. On the plus side there were no fat drunk British people anywhere, and no problems in figuring out where to put my towel on the beach. Isle of TireeWe had mixed feelings about leaving Coll. On the one hand we were sad to be going as we enjoyed exploring this tiny island for 5 days, having met some really welcoming people and experiencing island life for a few days. But equally, we were also quite excited about visiting somewhere new. Although, everyone we had met so far that came across from Tiree said it was very different. Unsurprising really considering there were more than four times the people on a similar sized island with more amenities. Once on the ferry, again we ogled the views through the window whilst drinking coffee. As soon as we departed the boat we raced to the local shop, as there was only one. Although this time it was a co-op with a cash machine (luxury). There was an adventure race on over weekend, so the ferry was full of people talking about race pace, caffeine, diets, injuries, shoes, socks, and lots of other stuff that seemed pretty boring to anyone that wasn't a runner. We managed to sneak into the shop before the crowds arrived to grab some staples for the next few days. So much choice was a little surreal, and interestingly highlighted how quickly we adjust to our surroundings. Once heading to the campsite (again the only one on the island), we noticed this place was very different to Coll. It was flat as a pancake with almost uninterrupted views across the length of the island (10 miles) with the houses on full display. I can see where the statement of 'the houses look like they are rising up out of the sea' came from. On Coll since it was so undulating and rugged the houses were hard to see and blended in with the surroundings. The hundred or so residents were hard to spot. Whereas here there seemed to be people living everywhere. The architecture was interesting, with strange dalmatian houses and others with really odd roofs. Apparently, these are made from tar, and had to be replaced every few years or so. It just shows how brutal the weather can get up here for locals to feel the need to cover their houses in tar! The walls were about a metre thick as well. The beaches here were again quite different to Coll. They had the same golden sand and turquoise water but were massive sweeping bays that stretched miles. On Coll they were quite small, intricate, and rugged. Although, I think this was the first time I saw cows just chilling on the sand. When the ultra-marathon took place the runners pretty much circumnavigated the entire island, which was about 35 miles. Much of this would have been spent running head on into very strong wind. No wonder they were talking about all the technicalities on the ferry. Although, the race started at about 8am in the morning and unsurprisingly took most of the day. What most people didn't realise however was most of their tents were being absolutely shredded by the persistent wind back at basecamp. There were tents being ripped apart all day, and being nice people we repegged lots, did up zips, anchored ripped plastic, and comically flat packed the broken ones to the floor, like the summer beach shelter with the poor child expected to sleep in. Many competitors opted for beer at the post event party instead of returning home, to find their tent in pieces with snapped poles. It was an exciting game watching the fibreglass poles flexing like jelly in the wind, guessing which one was going to go next. Like hunger games for tents really. The reoccurring theme of plastic was widespread. We noticed it more on the south western beaches as this I suppose was where the gulf stream currents swept debris across the ocean, and these islands were the first land mass before the UK. We filled about three bags in the space of an hour or so. It did slightly strange doing a beach clean on holiday, but equally very needed. We took it to the only recycling centre on the island and felt content with our good deed for the environment that day. The weather was fairly benign on Coll, with this week being very different. Unluckily we had caught the tail end of hurricane Florence that was hitting the US. The 'biggest storm in a generation' was the wording used in the media, sensationalist I know, but still. Our glamping tent we had brought was intended for summer conditions, not hurricane wind and rain. Charlie anxiously looked up online what sort of wind it could stand up to, and worryingly the specs said they had been tested in 35mph wind and not all had survived. Coupled with the fact it was also made of cotton and not hugely waterproof we were a little anxious as the weather last night peaked at about 55mph wind with rain getting fired into the tent at that speed too. The forecast was even stronger for the next few days, with 60+ mph predicted persistently throughout the day and night.... Having not slept properly for a few days for concern the tent was going to rip open and the constant flapping, we did the sensible thing and bailed out into a pod (above). Although whoever made this thing used some suspect dimensions. I mean I am not a very tall bloke at 5ft 6in / 7 on a good day. But my head was touching one side and my feet the other. Was this thing designed for children I wondered, but then adults had been staying in it over the past few days. Anyways, despite the cramped sleeping arrangement it made very pleasant respite from the constant battering of the wind, phew. One of our fellow campers had a very cool device for his dog called the 'buddy carrier', which was imported from the USA apparently. Sadly, this shot was pulled from Google as I didn't chance to take a picture, but the dog gets a seatbelt in front of you to get the wind in their face with the rider able to monitor what they get up to. The equally cute and fluffy dog we saw couldn't wait to get underway on his journey with his master. Brilliant! The geology of both islands was pretty cool. I don't know a great deal about rocks other than the basics of whether it is limestone, granite, slate, or gritstone for climbing purposes. But there were really interesting layers and colours all over the place, with massive lumps of polished marble just lying around on the beaches. The Skerrymore lighthouse lies about 10 miles of the coast and was built in the Victorian times I think. Men used to sail out to the rocks and work building this structure for months at a time. It is all built from solid granite to endure the extreme weather, and amazingly not one person lost their life throughout the whole project which took years. I think China and the middle east could learn a thing or two from Britain regarding this approach to safety.. It is still in operation today, although automated and controlled from the mainland instead of manned. Impressive! During our time on Tiree we had noticed one of the shock absorbers had sprung a leak, so we limped back to the ferry loaded up with kit for an appointment with a garage on the mainland. I love this pic above as it looks like something from a 90s surfing magazine. The little bump on the hill in the distance was a radar station left over from the second world war which is now used to track planes flying across the Atlantic. There was an emergency runway built by the RAF which jets could land on in an emergency. Although we joked if any plane did land, would their emergency be resolved as there was only a very small medical centre on the island, which had a Doctor that only attended on certain days I think. We had mixed emotions leaving Tiree for Oban, as on the one hand it was nice to explore the island and its many beaches, but equally factors such as very busy campsite due to the race, less friendly locals, relentless wind, sleepless nights, and a broken car lead to a content feeling of heading home. Once back on the mainland we got the work done on the car. To our surprise the garage then said we had a dodgy wheeel bearing which was news to us, prompting a recovery truck to be called to tow home (all 300 ish miles - as we didn't want the wheel coming off on the motorway). We were very thankful for our common sense and breakdown cover at that moment. Despite a fair amount of faff (we did have a nice time in Wetherspoons eating and drinking), it did save us about £50 in fuel, and we got home far quicker than if we had driven. I thought there were reduced speed limits for vehicles like this, but obviously not. The story unfolded further back in Leeds, as it transpired the wheel bearing was indeed fine and instead the Scottish garage had fitted the shock absorber incorrectly, which made the tyre rub on the chassis. It took a while to unpack all of the kit from the trip and do all the washing, as always, but in reflection we both really enjoyed exploring these small islands off the typical holiday destination circuit. It is strangely addictive visiting such remote places, and we certainly came away wanting to more. The purse strings need to be tightened, and once the pennies have stacked up we will no doubt be heading north again for the beauty, and solitude.
Having agreed to an outdoor trip with my friend Rach, I was glad the night before she had also hardly thought about plans and still not packed yet. At least we were on the same page. So, with a duffle bag stuffed full of kit I arrived in Keswick for what I thought would be a leisurely afternoon of food shopping and chatting routes. Instead, shortly after checking the weather forecast we were both in the van heading north (again) seeking the better weather window for the week ahead. In the words of the rocky bar - in search of 'big adventures'. I had been staring at a laptop screen for far too long. After negotiating the potholes on the way into Fort Bill and driving around in circles a few times in the dark we managed to locate the Ben Nevis north face car park (it was harder to find than I remember). This was Rach’s opportunity to show me her van modifications and what she had been working on for the past week or so. She had made midge screens that covered the open windows on each car door which attached by using magnets. What a great idea, and one that proved invaluable to keep the little beasties away all week. Thanks Pintrest. In the morning we debated for a while whether to lug camping kit up the valley and base ourselves there for two days (lots more weight), or just walk in and out each day (lots more distance). Having not reached a conclusion, we opted to let the size of our packs dictate, so after successfully cramming everything(ish) into two large day bags it was decision made! Although, I did feel like the food police several times when telling Rach there was a limit on chocolate bars and packets of pasta for tea. After a long and sweaty walk up the valley I felt pretty content we had made the right decision to put up with short term misery for long term gain. We arrived at the CIC hut, which is an alpine style hut that climbers can book into with bunk beds and kitchen etc. I had only seen it from up on the mountains before and it definitely looked bigger up close. No surprise really. We did the typical student and outdoor instructor thing and pitched our tent right next to the hut on their lawn. Next time the £15 or so for staying the night seemed an attractive prospect considering we were covered in sweat having lugged all our camping kit up and getting attacked by midges whilst eating lunch. Tower Ridge Fed and watered with our home for the evening standing proud, next up was what we had come for! This absolute classic route called Tower Ridge which is 600 metres of scrambling up on to Ben Nevis summit. Considering the weather forecast said '90% chance of cloud free summits', and hence why we had rushed up here, the weather was pretty terrible. We couldn’t see a thing! Visibility was about 15-20m. So, armed with our very limited description from the guide book, which we later concurred was more of a coffee table read rather than something to actually use in the mountains. We headed off towards the rough direction of the ridge, we hoped, as you couldn’t see any of its vast bulk. We accessed what we thought was the route, yet in such poor visibility it was more of an estimation. We started scrambling up the very wet and slippery rock, which seemed to get steeper and steeper. It felt more like climbing than scrambling and harder than the grade. After pulling some committing moves on pretty small holds with fairly large drops below, we agreed we were off route and should use the climbing kit were carrying. As soon as we roped up the perception of safety increased, whilst the speed of ascent did the opposite. We reached an area that looked like a climbing kit graveyard with ropes, slings, and crabs littered everywhere. Always a bit disconcerting on a route like this in less than ideal weather. Having abseiled down a smooth slab using a combination of the discarded gear as anchors (cue feeling of smugness having not had to sacrifice our own gear) we accessed terrain that actually felt like a scramble and the grade for this route. Phew, we could take the rope off and enjoy the ridge ascent as per the guidebook. As we got higher the ridge became narrower, and we soon saw a horizon which mirrored the shots we saw on YouTube during the planning stage. The exposure was pretty vast, with near vertical drops either side of several hundred metres, gulp...! I could tell the fear o meter was a little more sensitive than usual due to all that time spent in my office. We reached the infamous tower gap and weighed up the moves required. Once my little legs had been stretched to the max, I was very content being perched on a pretty small ledge. It’s all relative. Before that it was a response of 'don't take pictures' to Rach waving the camera in my face. Rach flew over the edge and made it look very easy. Were both really pleased to have made the top before nightfall. Always a cool feeling when you emerge at the corner of the hordes of unassuming tourists gathered on the summit clad in metal work, harnesses and helmets. The sun was setting as we walked off, and the earlier information of '90% cloud free summits' was only just starting to materialise at about 9pm. We trudged back to our tent in the other valley with a warm fuzzy feeling inside having completed one of the classic mountaineering routes in the UK. Even the 600m of rock seemed to come to an end too soon. We had caught the scrambling bug. Just needed the Scottish weather to play ball now. Ledge Route Next up was Ledge route, again another classic and a fair bit easier than Tower Ridge. We quickly looked up which gully to actually ascend, as the coffee table mountaineering book was terrible. Having researched the route (thanks to 3G signal) we headed up the right way. Approaching routes in the sun was so much easier. This route meanders pretty much the whole way and takes an easy line threading through some pretty epic mountain features. You pass over the top of this massive face which was cool. The route is slightly deceiving, as the surrounding features look mega technical, yet you manage to avoid them all really. Gives a feeling of exposure from very secure terrain.
Pap of Glencoe Having had two big days scrambling routes on the north face of Ben Nevis, a half day due to bad weather sounded pretty appealing. We opted for the Pap of Glencoe as this peak is very iconic and a landmark that we had both passed numerous times on the way to Fort William. The route lived up to the description in the book as it was pretty steep the whole way. Although we past the tamest cows I have ever seen. They didn't even flinch when we walked right past them. Maybe just in keeping with the care free Scottish attitude... When we neared the top, it didn't look as rounded or steep as it does from the road. The steeper face is opposite this more rounded side which joins the saddle. Although, there was a little scramble to the summit which was fun. We were back in the van by lunch and spent the remainder of the day resting the legs and drinking coffee / tea in town. I also introduced Rach to the showers in the train station which she seemed pretty impressed by. Check them out if you are ever up there - £2.50 well spent. Ballachulish Horseshoe Having relocated to Glen Coe area for the evening, we played the game of trying to park as close to the beginning of the route as possible. The outcome of this was a large flat open carpark behind a church. The considered the morality of this, but the quietness quickly outweighed any doubts. When we woke up and moved on, there were already two cars in the carpark with the church doors wide open. Ooops. What do people even do in churches at 9am in the morning? Nope we didn't know either. Since this route is fairly well known, or so I thought, the lack of paths was slightly surprising. We battled through sopping long grass and gauze to access the ridge, with legs well and truly saturated. Once up near the rock the trouser could start to air, which coincided with swarms of midges. It's always something to battle in Scotland. We 'bagged' the Munros in Rach's words, which prompted a discussion as to why we both enjoy walking in the mountains. Conclusion was we agreed to disagree, but that’s fine. Life would be boring if we were all the same. You may be able to tell from the half assed effort and limp finger pointing to the summit that I was there to tick this hill off the list. AKA following Rach to do that. Although my earlier idea of waiting for her in the group shelter down at the saddle seemed a bit harsh and too much of a protest. I did enjoy myself really. Ben Lomond For our final day we drove to the bottom of Loch Lomond, which to my surprise was quite wide, I always thought it was long and thin. Anyways, we picked up the road that handrailed the East shore and followed it until the end in Rach's usual Colin McRae style. It was nice to explore new areas, and we found a large forestry commission car park that was deserted apart from nomadic van sleepers, like us. After a great night's sleep on the very thick memory foam mattress (outdoor instructors are not always tight hey Rach??) we found it quite comical that we were surrounded both sides by cars parked the other way. We felt awkward for about five seconds. Heavy rain was forecast for the afternoon, so we blasted up the munro in the morning only stopping once to adjust clothing. We averaged about 14 metres per minute of ascent for most of the hill overtaking several people. Considering this was the fifth consecutive day of walking I felt pretty strong. Obviously, the office cobwebs had been cleared out by this stage and I may have even developed some fitness which was nice. Still not in the same league as Rach, but we only had a week, and she cycles a lot, and football. Cannot compete. The top was thick with cloud and pretty breezy, so we got a quick pic and opted to pull out the group shelter for lunch. After 20 mins of sarnis, chocolate, and sweets, the view had cleared. Result! Although, the post shelter chills are always unpleasant. For the unacquainted, it gets pretty warm and steamy in these plastic bags, which is really nice at the time. Yet as people don't usually take off any layers, when the microclimate is suddenly removed it feels baltic. So with hat, gloves, and spare layer on (yes in August) we headed down whilst enjoying the view of the entire Loch Lomond, which is impressive considering its length. We past the groups we overtook on the way up again and got talking to a Canadian couple. They even commented on our hill fitness which was nice, although coming from humans a decade or so our senior it was a little hollow. Anyhow a compliment is always nice... We got back to the van pretty early and our fitness even surprised ourselves. It was even sunny! So, we went to the beach (yes in Scotland). It was slightly surreal lying on my towel near the water’s edge surrounded by mountains. The sun lasted about 10 mins, then a massive dark cloud with much rain came our way, so we abandoned the bathing and took shelter in Bumblebee (van). Once we started cooking tea we met a German lad called Felix, who it turned out was 18 yrs old and walking the length of the west highland way (which is from Glasgow - Fort William), then off to the Isle of Skye, and finally to the outer Hebredies solo. He has as much meat on his bones as a chopstick, and his bag weighed 25kg. The poor guy must have seen the shelter over the van and think I want some of that. We helped him cook tea and chatted for a bit before he went on his way. We left Scotland feeling tired but content we had managed to squeeze so many classic routes in with less than ideal weather. We will be back, as there are still many more to do.... Almost a never ending pursuit.
At quite short notice Charlie and I decided to head up to the Lakes to catch up with a friend for a few days. The Methodology chapter could wait a week or so, and hey, breaks are needed right, and lead to greater productivity...? Having done the rounds of Keswick, that was Wetherspoons (several times), Needle Sports (always seem to buy unintended gear), Kong Climbing Wall, and a whole dose of winter Olympics later, we headed out for a walk. Having decided it was wise to not do Hellvelyn and Striding Edge in 40+mph winds and frozen conditions, we stayed local and headed for Catbells instead. True to Met Office's advice it was pretty damn windy, with a bobble hat having been blown clean off somebody's head and literally being suspended in mid-air, screaming children, scared dogs (thankfully the Chihuahua turned back), and plenty of tourists wearing jeans and trainers. Despite the lack of snow down low this was not a great move by said tourists, with some pretty anxious faces above 400m. I don't think my response to 'how is it up there' reassured the very nervous looking couple. I mean it's not Everest but snowdrifts and large patches of ice when you are just in leggings and trainers is always interesting. So, they turned back. I just tried to be factual and leave the decision up to them. Nothing worse than people forcing their views on the mountain. Anyways, having briefly returned to Leeds, we left the bags packed and frantically booked some accommodation (more of a rabbit hutch) and headed North again, but this time across the border into Scotland to catch up with another friend John. Having already taken a week off my research, an extra week didn’t really seem that bad. Not at this early stage. So, we drove through the night and checked into the accommodation in Kinlochleven. In the morning we awoke to amazing views down Loch Leven and headed out for a walk. It’s always a nice surprise checking out the view that remained elusive on the way in. Having done a bit of homework, studying maps and routes prior to leaving, upon arrival we just decided to go off piste and freestyle a route. Well I say that, it was more that's what John wanted to do as he seems to get a kick out of this style. Being content to be out of the office and just using my body to actually move I offered no resistance. As the drive was pretty long we opted to walk from the 'hutch’ and headed straight up onto the mountains from the accommodation. We said goodbye to Charlie for the day as she had pictures to take for a uni project so went her own way. It had rained overnight leading to very soft snow that was absolutely knackering to walk in. We headed up towards the southern side of the Mamores and the Ring of Steall, deviating from our original valley ascent and heading straight up the nearest peak. Thankfully the snow became more solid as we gained height making progress a little easier. But phew, think the breakfast had been burnt off and a few cobwebs cleared out.
Having reached the first summit, I took in amazing 360 degree pano views whilst eating lunch. I was totally content with my decision to leave study behind for a few more days and escape the busy city to clear the mind. Scotland is an amazing place where you can walk for a whole day and not see anybody else. Such solitude is a very powerful draw, that never grows old. Crazy that more people live in one city in England that the whole population of this country.... Oh well, sucks to be them stuck in the rat race all competing to earn the fattest pay check and brag to their mates during overinflated priced cocktails. With this being the first outing for my new B3 boots, the consensus was my legs were aching (admittedly nothing to do with the boots and more due to my recent sedentary lifestyle). The boots were stiff and making my feet sore, possibly even breaking me in. I know B3's are supposed to be stiff and that’s the whole point, but I just needed to soften the leather slightly. Paying an extra £100 or so to shave a few hundred grams off did not seem to be worth the money at present. Maybe my legs will thank me later, or that's what I told myself. On the Ring of Steall it felt nice to have approached this popular route via an unusual way, rather than just following the crowds (not that there were any today). Having previously done the full traverse in winter and thick cloud, it was nice to actually see the route, take in its scale and retrace my steps visually. We also met the first people of the day and quickly shared stories and admired beards before departing. On the way down when we weren't falling into massive snow drifts we bumped into these birds, Ptarmigans we thought. We made a massive snow ball and rolled it down the mountain until it got so big that we physically couldn't move it anymore, which was fun! Having dodged the snow-capped streams and trudged back along the West Highland Way to Kinlochleven we flopped into the rabbit hutch. John kindly gave us a bottle of homemade sloe gin which went down a treat. Then the tone for the trip set in. I think I must have caught some sort of virus, which took hold considering the minimal eating and drinking during the day and physical tiredness. Cue many visits to the toilet, vomiting, and being bed bound for 2 days straight. John didn't feel too spritely either, different symptoms, so him and Charlie decided to visit the gear shops in Fort William. The highlight of the next two days for me was watching the Olympics from a sofa by the fire in the bar and lasting more than an hour before something needing to be jettisoned from my body (sorry). Still both feeling terrible we all decided to drive back South. Even the 16-portion chocolate cake we bought for Johns b'day didn’t get touched. Having recovered myself a day or so after returning home, I passed whatever bug onto Charlie. Not flavour of the month after that. At least we managed to get one good day out in the mountains, and there were some pretty epic views up there, always good for some stress reduction... Having taken two weeks off uni work I thought the time had come to rev up and get back to it. Motivation would hopefully return soon. Instead what came was the Beast from the East! Tentatively at first, then kaboom, dumping quite a lot of snow over the week. Luckily being students, we didn't have a pressing need to brave driving in these conditions. Also, the news on Wednesday of 'College is Shut' today helped the situation of not having to go into work. So, we donned the snow boots and spikes and took a trip outside. Comically the crazy students over the road were sledging down a fairly large hill by our house on all sorts of bizarre items. We saw a fridge door, baking tin, beer crate, survival bag, skate boards with no wheels, and the best was a massive sledge made from four skateboards with a pallet attached on top. Pretty funny to watch. Having got some food in the local supermarket, we came out to find the bike park had turned into a sledge park which was quite amusing. That’s not something you see every day. Only at Waitrose would somebody stack these up so neatly in such a designated area. Attempting to seize the last snow and ice and deciding not to brave uncertain roads of the Peak District to access Kinder Falls we stayed local and headed for Ilkley Moor instead. We found some ice to play on and tried out Ian’s new purchases (a set of ice screws). Having not done any winter ice climbing yet, I was keen to see how these things worked and performed. We drilled into a few lumps of ice, set up a belay, and hung off it to our full weights content. Nothing budged. Impressive! We then pottered further up on the moor and stumbled on another frozen waterfall. This time we decided to give the mini frozen falls a bash at climbing. It was only tiny but considering I had never done anything on ice before relished this experiential learning opportunity. Conclusion was, it's not as scary or precarious at it first seems. All the metal seemed to stick where I needed, so maybe a trip to Norway coming up!? Our Keswick friend decided to come and visit us in Leeds, so we took her out to share the delights of some Yorkshire gritstone. Having climbed a few routes her facial expression reminded me of when I first got to Yorkshire feeling like a fairly decent climber. Oh, how those perceptions were dashed... Both agreeing you need fairly large kahunies and confidence in your self-generated friction. This was also a great opportunity for me to try out my Christmas present. The hammock worked really well having set it up on some cams. We also took Rach to visit the famous venue for city-based climbers. What better to do on a rainy day in Leeds, well outdoor climbing obviously. Well technically it's under cover. What an endurance test, warm up panel 6a, next panel 6b, and the final one 6c. Obviously starting left to right is more popular resulting in more eroded and thus larger finger pockets. The tiny holds take their toll on both fingers and toes, I even got a blood blister on one of my toes after this which took ages to disappear. Like a silent protest ha. Another day in the Dales seemed to be progressing towards doing a 70m abseil off Malham Cove. Yet finding out nesting birds were doing their thing we changed plans to abseiling 60m off Kilnsey crag. Then somehow, we ended up going underground and doing the same length drop into a pothole. When we went to collect the long static rope off a friend he somehow managed to convince us all to join him to the dark side. Wheeling out our convenient excuse of Graham we don't have any kit was futile as his little Fiat Panda was bulging at the seams, with enough for everybody! Haha so we ended up underground afterwards. Graham the caving demon took us down Jingly Pot, which was quite an undertaking considering he took two complete strangers down there. The abseil in was pretty amazing considering this vertical shaft just kept on going. Scary considering on the surface there was just a little hole which opened out into this massive cavern. Negotiating the cave tested our rigging skills, and we gained some new ones ascending up many metres of vertical rope. Although the undercarriage to a while to recover as those seatbelt harnesses were not designed for comfort. What an experience. And what an action-packed week or so. I think I needed to return to my nice comfortable office and coffee machine to recover.
The weather forecast didn’t look amazing, with unsettled weather blowing across the Atlantic from the tail of several hurricanes in the Caribbean. Sadly, we only had this time slot available and soon we would both be back to uni and work. Sob. Thinking we had better attempt to make the most of it, in true British spirit we loaded up the car and kept the waterproofs handy. It made a nice change to be staying fairly local, with the sat nav set for Whitley Bay. We chose here based on a recommendation from a friend. On arrival the lighthouse was calling, so we walked across the causeway at low tide and had a mooch around. Apparently, several shipwrecks were just off the coast, which Charlie relished when she found a bright green stone lost from its cargo on the beach. We then visited a bush craft shop, again by recommendation (same friend). This place was the ultimate man space and had everything you could ever want to carve trees and whittle sticks. We especially liked the Hazel chickens. With our wallets slightly lighter, we thought it best to find somewhere for the night. We booked into a campsite with a very eccentric owner. It was about 40 acres of unkept woodland just outside Newcastle, but with no amenities. It felt pretty strange paying (a fairly large amount) to effectively wild camp. I remember thinking "pay more for less", hhmm doesn't make sense, but becoming seemingly a more and more popular marketing ploy. We were greeted with a spade (the toilet) and map to locate our home for the night. The Mazda almost didn’t make it up a pretty steep grass bank with her wheels spinning. So top gear style, and in the words of Clarkson “more power” sorted it out with a faster run up and more momentum. Today the weather forecast was bad, so we planned to visit Newcastle. It turned out that you can park in a local metro station for £1 all day, and get the over/underground tram/train into the city centre. I think the railway had a slight identity crisis. Also, there were loads of free car parking spaces which seemed strange. Anywhere else in the country this set up would be rammed, especially down south. So riding the train, we felt pretty smug about our convenient and cheap day so far. Once we arrived the first thought was “where is everybody”, the place was dead. It was like a scene from an apocalypse movie. Very different from Leeds. The Discovery Museum was very interesting with its interactive activities; my personal favourite was a cut open jet engine. Next on the list was the Biscuit Factory, which upon arrival I was slightly confused as no biscuits were being made. It was actually an art gallery. Not being able to afford the humongous price tags (think I’m in the wrong job), we headed for the River Tyne. The millennium bridge is synonymous with Newcastle and an impressive feat of engineering. We headed up to the top floor of the flour factory (another art gallery) and looked out from its viewing deck. It had an amazing view down the river. Deciding modern art is a bit weird, we checked out the architecture on the way into town. This city surprised me in many ways. The light-coloured stone reminded me of Bath or Oxford, not something that I would have imagined. Back at our crazy campsite, we were met by the token spaniels and also another car that had been defeated by the slippery hill. Reluctantly we went to help. The young lad was attempting to push his own car up the hill solo, and then run around to put on the handbrake. Is he mad I hear you say, well he almost ran himself over, so possibly! Having mustered some help, we left the rescue team with him to pull out his knackered car. Good deed for the day, check! Having packed down the tent, we bought some sausages on the way out. Apparently “the best someone had ever tasted”, sounded good. Bishop Auckland was the next stop, where we had a tour of a castle that the Bishop of Durham used to live in. Apparently he used to be a big deal, and a philanthropist obviously agreed having decided to invest £100 million of his own money renovating the site. We had a quick look around town, but underwhelmed we decided the castle was the only real draw. We dived into a coffee shop to avoid the incoming downpour. Once this had stopped we headed to a farm campsite for the evening. It overlooked Robin Hood Bay and had an amazing view of the coast. That morning after indulging in the 'best sausages ever' (which I definitely didn't agree with, lumps of gristle killed that notion) we had the luxury of washing up in a real sink. Going to collect the ice packs we realised somebody had put them in the fridge by mistake. Oops, school girl error (clue there)! With our uncool cool box we called into Flying Thorpe and visited an exhibition about Gainsay jumpers. An experienced knitter told us it takes around 100 hours to make one of these if you know what you're doing. Wow, that would be a lot of money, no wonder they were repaired each time they broke. Thunder and lightning boomed overhead, so we drove through the rain to Scarborough and ate lunch in the car watching the surfers. We got an obligatory ice cream and also called in to see the RNLI station. We even witnessed a call out, with men dashing around all over the place. They had some pretty Gucci toys in there worth in excess of £3 million. You can see why people volunteer. That night we relocated campsites, and splashed out on a nice pub meal. It was a holiday after all.. The next day we went to Filey Museum, which was really quaint and had some interesting collections. My favourite were the newspapers from World War II, which made interesting reading. Finally, we drove to Bridlington to check out the massive beach, before heading back to Leeds and business of the uni/work treadmill. At least we seized the opportunity to get away despite a terrible forecast, and managed to dodge the showers, downpours, thunder and lightning pretty well! All in all a nice few days away exploring a really nice part of the country. All the locals were so pleased to chat and offer ideas about other things to see or do in the area.
So the adventure began and felt very real with my bag sat on the train luggage rack staring out of the window on-route to the school.
So these were the teachers that I had the pleasure of spending a month with. Well apart from Johnny, the one looking very suspicios in the background, he was with another group. Oh and also technically Kav (on the left wasn't a teacher), but his practical role came in handy during project work. Our first in-country accommodation was this rather swanky hostel. It was really nice to arrive to, and made the transition to a developing world country slightly smoother. Andes Trek So day one of the trek involved heading up towards a mountain lake, which would be home for the next few days. On route we could see three different snow capped volcanoes in the distance. This one is Cotapaxi (5897m), and apparently the cloud halo that can be seen is the gasses released from its volcanic activity being blown in the wind. So who said enduring hardship was an essential component of a mountain trek? This was a complete surprise and our first nights camping spot (we slept in tents, the lodges were for the in-situ staff, sob). Either way it was a stunning location with immaculately kept grounds. Day two started to thread through larger peaks. The one in the distance here is Cerro Negro (4200m), with a small technical section that we climbed on day four. The closer we got to the lake, the more it felt like we were in a Jurassic Park movie, with thick green forests carpeting the mountain sides. Once we arrived at Lake Mojanda (3800m) it was absolutely spectacular! This whole area used to be a super volcano (Caldera), with the numerous surrounding 4000m peaks forming the rim. The hollow centre and now lake, would have been inside where the lava was. What a place to camp and spend several days - I was in my element. Here is another perspective that shows the sheer scale and awesomeness of this place. I don't know how deep the lake is, but what I do know is it was blooming freezing!! The best I managed was washing my feet. Respect to the students that took the plunge. We all braved the cold and wearily emerged from tents to capture a glimpse of the sunset over Mojanda. Facebook header for sure. The view from my tent each morning never grew old. We were very lucky to have near perfect weather for the duration of the trek. Result, seeing as the group before us had cloud for most of the week. At the summit of Cerro Negro 4200m (that mountain mentioned earlier) with teacher Steph. She did amazingly well and reached the top despite having a day off walking and acclimatisation due to overseeing a hospital visit. Cue cheesy grins. This was the highest peak in the area at 4300m (Fuya Fuya). Previous maps from 1970 stated it was a dramatically different height, but the more recent map borrowed from the Ecuadorian military confirmed what the altimeter showed. Slightly disappointing that it wasn't the larger figure, however I'm sure most, if not all of my group would have disagreed. They were all very glad to reach the top and be heading for the pick up point. Trek over and time to rest those exhausted legs. Mountain guides Camilo and Pablo were very professional throughout and very knowledgable about the local area. I enjoyed my time of sharing stories and chatting about climbing & mountaineering in other places around the world (not that I had much to offer here). Two great guys. Amazon Rainforest So from the cold dry air of the mountains to the heat and humidity of the jungle in one day! Wow what a change it was. My sore throat and cough soon disappeared with the thick moist air. One very nice perk of life in the jungle was hammocks! I'm not sure that these counterbalanced the sheer amount of bugs that persistently plague you, but I did spend many hours chilling out in these. I just need to find two solid objects at home in order to install one. It may be quite tricky with living in a second floor flat, hhmm I will have to keep thinking. Whilst waiting to be collected by a fleet of pick up trucks I spent some time 'people watching'. The river bank was a real mixing pot of locals using these water taxis. Clients consisted of school children, families, women tarted up in pencil skirts that were far too tight to be practical in the jungle, and also a businessman carrying a leather briefcase. Bizarre. We had to cross several rivers during our trip, which meant we got to go on these cool things. I really loved bombing down the river on an overly narrow boat with a child steering. As you can see from the picture, not all the students would agree this was fun. Charlotte behind me was FTFO (freaking the f*** out) during every crossing. This shot is probably the fourth occasion, and is a remarkable improvement in emotional management compared to the others. It was a long month of continued female teenager anxiety. This was our final camp and probably the most remote. The local community were very welcoming and it was a pleasure to help out with the various project work to make life slightly easier for those in need. Issac one of the camps staff was a spitting resemblance of King Julian from Madagascar - I think it was the voice, accent, and mannerisms. He provided great entertainment for all during the last few days, and has yet to watch the movie. Not sure he will appreciate this feedback once he does... We got to try some cool native traditional activities such as spear throwing, blow darts, and tattoo painting. Twenty people all slobbering on the same tube was never so much fun. Luckily nobody was contagious, and we all lived to tell the tale. This was harder than it looked, I missed the wooden parrot completely which was the designated target. Mountain Camp A common natural feature during this Cayambe camp can be seen here, the double rainbow. The camera only just captured it, but it was impressive. The high altitude cloud / mist reflected light well (thats about all my knowledge of how rainbows work). The camp was situated at the foot of Mount Cayambe (5790m) seen in the distance. The group are walking to project work close by. This altitude proved a great way to acclimatise before our trek. A rare shot of the summit not shrouded in cloud, with the added bonus of having a clear blue sky. I never tired of looking at this mountain so close. I regularly thought about my crampons and axe left behind at home that could of had an outing here. Embracing local culture and trying an Ecuadorian staple of cuy (guinea pig to you and me). These are being prepared for the groups dinner. I did sample this cuisine, but can't say I was overly impressed. Lets just say I wont be heading down to Pets at Home when I return to the UK after the weekly shop. Quito R&R Otovalo market was a must do. The group immersed themselves in the sea of knitted alpaca and llama goods. Many dollars were spent on all sorts of colourful spoils. I spent several hours fending off locals with their eyes on my fat western wallet. It did eventually open, but only to buy a fridge magnet for my mum, $2 well spent. This is an example of what the teenagers were spending their parents hard earned money on. This knitwear became a common feature of wearable fashion for the remainder of the trip. I even gave in and bought a pair of jazzy trousers, I opted for the green variety to blend in in the jungle. From observations the thread count quality was far higher than the African equivalent, and it even came with pockets.
During another visit to the capital, on our last day, we just so happened to coordinate this with a large formal ceremony. It turned out that the President was in town, which was what all the military, guns and secret service were for. At least it gave me some entertainment whilst drinking my coffee and waiting for the teenagers. Project Work I love this shot of a school boy playing on the swing in his local primary school deep in the jungle. The British teenagers really enjoyed interacting with these children. I was impressed with how smart their uniforms were, although jogging bottoms in the rainforest was a questionable choice. Part of the deal here was to build relations and links with the local community. They had not seen many white people before and spoke no English. So obviously the thing to do was human totem poles. Once these children were attached it was incredibly difficult to shake them off, they were like limpets. I ended up depositing mine onto a set of monkey bars which I thought was quite clever. Also I had to chase down my sunglasses that I lent to a small boy, the sneaky blighter snuck into the classroom with them, maybe hoping I would not follow. Anyhow I managed to retrieve them (which made me feel bad for about 30 seconds) which only led to short term success, as a week or so later I lost them on the trek. I should have just given them to him. The two school pictures above make our project work look easy. Far from it, they were both taken on the same day - the only easy day of the whole project work schedule. The rest often involved hard physical work in the heat (trust me a lot of concrete and motar was mixed). Here a touch of genius saw students construct a chute to deliver building materials such as sand and aggregate down a flight of stairs. This saved carrying it in buckets and worked really well. Conclusion = what white British westerners lack in physical prowess they can make up for in brain power. Some of them. The Return.. So upon arrival back into civilisation (Quito airport) we were debilitated by the freedom of choice. It turned out that everything was ridiculously expensive ($6 for a coffee :o) so we decided to not hold back and gorge on cheese. The staff went all in and shared this monster, which at $30 was the most expensive pizza EVER! We opted for plain cheese (no brainer - living in Yorkshire must be rubbing off), as the next level up was pepperoni for an additional $8. It was heaven! So the final stop before the UK was Columbia. Next on the agenda was what this place is synonyms with - COFFEE!! (the other option would not have gone down well with UK border force, I've seen the programmes on TV). Crazily enough coffee was really difficult to get readily in Ecuador, considering it's next door. So we decided to go for an iced smoothie version, which was very bitter and slightly disappointing. Maybe we should have just stuck to the regular latte (as that was lovely on the way out).
Having negotiated forgotten items in Leeds, a taxi that didn't turn up, a train delay due to broken signals, and forgetting my railcard which demanded several moments of sweet talking and blagging, we had finally made the ferry crossing to Brodick. Phew. Seeing the mountains across the water was exciting, and I couldn't wait to explore the island. One of the amazing things about Arran (there are many) is the presence of both beaches and mountains, condensed into a small footprint. The locals were very friendly and helpful in relation to sorting buses and campsites. We later found out that the true locals were apparently called 'Arranites', which meant being born on the island, and actually weren't all that friendly. Those that were likely relied on tourism for their income. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you" as the saying goes. Once some of the group had found the courage, we progressed away from the relative luxury of a maintained campsite for a slightly more remote & wild alternative. Here it was just a field with a toilet block. Still not wild camping, but as close as we came on this trip (progress for some - not mentioning any names, cough, Matty). The group had admitted defeat on how we were going to watch the Anthony Joshua boxing match whilst away. We had already rang around every pub and hotel on the island prior to arriving, with all of these proving unfruitful. This conundrum was surprisingly solved when Lawrence announced he had a live stream on his phone. So sat around the campfire at night with a beer, we watched the fight live through 3G. Bizare experience. The first mountain day saw us heading for the highest peak on the island (Goatfell, small in stature at 874m) and leaving the tourist path as soon as possible. Things started to get steeper and more rugged under foot. One nice surprise were the large slabs of pristine granite to scramble up, Lawrence may have needed help once or twice. Maybe we should have done more than just the one session at the climbing wall before heading out. Escaping the crowds instantly felt nice, along with the freedom to pick our own route to the summit. Having descended to the road, conveniently there was a taxi parked up. This guy obviously makes his living running tired and aching tourists back to Brodick each day. Well the business model worked, as we all bundled in, with the only directions consisting of "to a pub please". Upon arrival Mitch asked the bar tender for the cheapest pint, to which came a reply of "nothing's cheap on Arran". Well at least he was honest! On mountain day two we walked from the tents, and headed up the valley alongside Goatfell handrailing a beautiful stream. It didn't take long for this environment to feel wild with nobody else around. We only saw one other person all day on our 8hr walk, which was surprising considering we weren't that far away from the islands main ring road. Either way it lead to an experience that we perceived to be quite remote. Mitch then decided it would be a good idea to go for a dip. So true to his word he stripped down to his boxers and jumped in! This provided great entertainment for the rest of us watching from the side, and to be fair to him he handled the cold water well. Once we had reached the head of the valley, a quick group conflab about which way to go followed. We opted to to take the steeper and more exciting route, via this gully (on right). There were a few interesting moves along the way that demanded a little focus, balance, and bit of grunt. Having not dislodged anything major we all made the top safely and enjoyed a pause in the sun. During this pause Lawrence checked his phone and noticed he had 3G. We punched in the details of this ridge, to realise it may be slightly more demanding than we first thought. Here we have the 'A Chir Ridge', a 1.5km long scrambling traverse, which the way we were heading was graded 'Very Difficult' in climbing terms. The funny thing was that the original plan was to traverse this whilst carrying our 15-20kg rucksacks. Think that was a bit of a learning curve for Mr Kettle. Anyways lesson learnt, I was sad to have come as a walking group and not prepared for anything more technical. I will definitely be back with a harness and helmet soon as it looks awesome! On our final summit of the day we had 20 mins to take in the views, peace, and apparent remoteness of this amazing island. Having decided to try and embrace the local culture, you can see Mitch here in his snazzy new kilt. Obviously representing years of family tradition and in-keeping with the ebay clan and tartan. I think he thought more people would comment on it, but nobody did for a few days, to which the first responce was "you bought yourself a girls kilt". The Scottish folk are nothing but direct, but pretty funny. It must have been the purple. When in Scotland, especially a coastal island, we had to go on a whisky tour. The Isle of Arran brewery is a small, family run, independent brewery, free from the restraints it's competitors often experience. This means they are free to experiment with new flavours and casks. We paid for the full works, a tour and tasting experience. So after being shown around the factory and learning lots, it was time to taste some (more). We were unsure what our money would get us, and thought the amount of alcohol may be fairly stingy. How wrong we were! The line up on the bar above was everything we sampled (in a short space of time), including one bottle that cost £150. We also mentioned it was two of our birthdays, which secured several extra tumblers. It also turns out that getting people drunk in the middle of the day before visiting the gift shop is a great marketing strategy. This group of students fell out the door with several bottles of 10-15 year old scotch whisky, having spent much of our recently deposited student loans (hey we were graduating soon). So what to do after a whisky tour, whilst still slightly drunk, carrying several bottles of expensive alcohol. Well it's obvious isn't it - GOLF! This course was on the way home, so we called in for a quick round. So out of the group of five, one, maybe two of us knew what we were doing. The others were pretty much freshers in this domain. So Matty took the baton of keeping us all in check. We were told we weren't good enough for the full course, so the mini one it was. It turns out hitting a tiny ball, into an even smaller hole, whilst avoiding several obstacles such as deer, trees, sandpits, and streams is damn hard. Although using the ball scooper to fish them out of the river was pretty fun. Good job we weren't doing the full sized course, otherwise we would be here all day. The whisky was obviously effecting my co-ordination, or at least it provided a good excuse. Also note to self, swinging a lump of metal at full speed past your feet is not ideal, especially whilst wearing flip flops. Maybe those uniforms do actually have some purpose other than that of exclusive aesthetics. Having finished our journey on the North of the island in Lochranza, we were surprised at the lack of civilisation and amenities. The only thing other than the hostel and the brewery was a pub, so that's where we went (not whisky this time). After a few beers and a meal this progressed into a stroll, and ended up at the beach. A group of boys together at the seaside of course led to a stone throwing competition.
The following morning we had planned to catch the first bus of the day back to the ferry port. So it turned out several members of the group had spent all of their cash in the pub the night before. This was a problem seeing as Lochranza had no cash point. After much debate and arguing we scraped together all of our shrapnel, and hoped we had enough to head directly back on the bus. The next surprise was the first bus of the day wasn't until 1pm. Cue ringing several taxi firms. Apparently there was only one people carrier on the whole island, which must have been the one that picked us up from Goatfell. Anyways he was on the mainland today!! So back to waiting for the bus it was. Once it arrived we did have enough money, just...
The North Coast 500 route is supposed to be one of the most spectacular road trips you can do anywhere in the world. So, having done all 500 miles and quite a bit more, I would say it does indeed live up to its 'spectacular' description. But having not done all of the road trips in the world, I'm not sure about that part (the Alps are pretty stunning). Anyways, above is a postcard of the official 500 mile route. Seeing as we had time on our side (student life), but not much money (student life), we had to do this trip on a budget. As many of our friends have pretty 'pimped up' vans, we had the idea to make a flatpack, totally freestanding bed, that could be assembled in a hire van, and then removed cleanly afterwards. The above picture is the result of many hours of planning, trip to B&Q, several sheets of plywood, and several hours sawing in the garden. It all slots together with no fixings required, and provides a rigid base for the sleeping platform to sit on. This was made from more ply that was ripped down into three articulated sections, and allowed access to the storage areas below. These were designed to allow Lidl bags in each to hold all our stuff. It was nice to have a storage ratio of 50:50, that definitely doesn't happen at home. In the world of paper and designing, we thought it would be a good idea to create this lift up section that could act as a table. However, once we had positioned the sleeping platform, and loaded it up with padding, and bedding, we didn't really want the faff of moving all this to access the table. Instead we just used a flatpack table outside, like most normal campers. But hey, it was a good idea, and it looks great in the picture, just not very practical. This is the finished article with it all in place. Luckily we ended up recieving a long wheel base version of our hire van for no extra cost, think there may have been an admin error somwehre. Anyways, it gave us more space at the foot of the bed, and proved invaluable for storage, cooking, and getting changed. With the van sorted, next we had to fill it with stuff. So we packed up our lives for the next three weeks, and bought some food. If you noticed the humungus pack of kitchen roll in the trolley, that isn't becasue we were incontinant, but rather for the condensation that would develop on our interior roof. Having read other blogs this was mentioned as a common problem for vans with no insulation. There is a reason for people spending all that money on their vans interior.
Our first overnight stop of the trip was a steep learning curve in hindshight. Initially we headed for an industrial estate for the night as we thought it would be away from others and fairly quiet. Oh how wrong we were! We had managed to park alongside the main haulage enterance into the Coca Cola factory. There were HGV lorries thundering in and out all night long. It wasn't even making the real deal, being their bottled water plant. I didn't even know they made that. Anyways, our second night we were determined to find somewhere quieter. So this is a car park just past a golf course overlooking Edinburgh across the bay. There were some other campers around, but it was definantely more picturesque, and we were making progress with our parking spots. The next day we headed through Edinburgh and saw the new Firth bridge just about to be connected, with two large spans of road just hanging in space above the river which was quite impressive. We thought we would head into Ratho climbing wall and meet up with a friend. I had never been here before and only seen pictures. It's in the middle of nowhere, but definatley well equipped. I dont know of anywhere else where an old quarry has just been capped. Next we headed up to the Cairngorms for a few nights. Having flicked through the scrambling guidebook we selected the Fiacalli Ridge as it was close by. It was a bit of a trudge up from the car park, and then boulder hopping up onto the ridge proper. The scrabmbling was airy and exciting, but shortlived. This is Charlie doing her man leg conquering pose here. Inspiration may have filtered down from John Rocks. Having descended, we relocated to Loch Morlich for the evening. What a spectacular location to have our BBQ, just a shame about the midges. Having recieved a few laughs and scoffs from other tourists ("haha they look like bee keepers"), we cooked our food with headnets on, and tucked into our midge curry. Mmmm. Scotaland is an amazing place as camping in a local layby, or even on the lochside beach is totally legal and accepted, as long as it's done responsibly. It was an uncanny feeling that a few hundred miles across the border this was totally acceptable. It's a shame that England has so many people, and things are a bit different. The following morning we nipped into see Glenmore Lodge and we were slightly disappointed they didn't have a coffee shop, before blagging a free shower in a nearby campsite and heading further North. Having spent a night on the edge of Lochness, and experiencing the delights of the associated museum we headed away from Inverness to a place called Chanonry Point. We were informed this was a great place to spot dolphins in the wild. We needed to find a spot for the night, so just out of curiosity we called into the immaculately kept campsite on the beach front. Having been told it was around £30+ for the night, next on the agenda was to find a free space. So we drove out of the official caravan club perimeter, about ten meters, turned right, and parked on the same patch of grass that wasn't owned by them, for free! It was a great feeling of smugness to be alongside the posh caravans, having not spent a penny. Several other vans had obviously had the same idea. The next day we walked along the beach to the point, and waited for the shoal of salmon to swim past at high tide. This happened like clockwork, shortly followed by a massive pod of dolphins. They came within metres of the shore and there must have been 40+, it was an amazing natural spectacle to witness. Back on the road we bumped into the Glenmorangie factory just North of Inverness. We had to stop and have a quick look. Having missed the tour we got a free sample from the very glamourous shop assistant. Not being a huge whisky fan, I did the sensible thing and downed the "wee dram" as she put it, that was actually pretty damn big, in one go. I think some expletives were then said slightly louder than I intended, much to Charlie's disgust. I only found out when we were back in England that north of the border there is a zero tollerance approach to alchohol and driving up there. Ooops, good job there were no police around. I think we only saw one over the whole three weeks.
We weren't too bothered by this, as Dunnet Bay was pretty nice. I reguarly thought it's strange that amazing outdoor locations like this beach have got hardly any people around. Back down south this would be teaming with people, like ants. If you dont mind sitting in a vehicle for a while, and putting a jacket on, rather than your trunks, then pretty much getting the whole beach to yourself was the reward. Next stop was Thurso, where apparently there is some pretty big surf in the winter months. Having explored the Northen coastline, it was time to start heading south for the first time on our journey. We had run out of country. We called into Weavers Cafe on route for a nice break from camping food, and ordered some wild Scottish salmon, mmm. Oviously not a whole one, all us students could afford was a wafer thin slice in a sarni.
We spent the night just outside town and camped at this viewpoint. There was certainly a nice view to be enjoyed with a bit of clever parking. That is a bit of an artform which takes practice to get good at. Assessing the angle of the ground and considering the best viewpoint and wind direction took practice. There were some (more) pretty spectacular views (reoccuring theme here) across Loch Ewe, and we didin't really want to move on. Just as we arrived into Gairloch we caught this amazing sunset across the bay. I'm not sure if this is the Isle of Skye, or the Isle of Harris in the distance, but we definately stoppped to take several pictures. In the morning we mooched around Gairloch, and then headed South onto Torridon. It's not often you get to say those two words in the same sentence. I showed Charlie around the Beinn Eighe nature reserve and also pointed out previous routes I had done up there such as the Liathach. She sounded impressed, or was just being polite. So technically we had come as far South as the NC500 route stipulated, however there was still lots more to explore... Having seen the weather for the next few days was rain, we decided to get to the Isle of Skye as quickly as possible. I've always wanted to explore this place, and doing it in the pouring rain didin't sound quite as appealing. We crossed the pretty handy road bridge to the island and found a place for the night, just down the road from the local police station. I can't imagine these public servants get much work out here. Although we noticed a comical poster up in their station that read "make sure your gun is licenced". In the words of Hot Fuzz, maybe "everyone is packing round here"? We braved the wind and rain and walked out to find this Coral Beach, where the sand is made completely from dead crustations. Well thats what the guidebook said, I'm not actually sure if that is true. With the weather getting worse (Met Office was right) we headed back to civilisation for dinner. We had the best curry ever in Portree, which is not a place you typically associate with Indian cuisine. We had a rather entertaining chat regarding contrast of climate with the owner who came over to the UK and Skye from Bangladesh. He said he loved it - fair enough! Another amusing thing was when coming to pay the waiter said the card payment service was down due to the bad weather. Charlie kindly volunteered to brave the rain and dash to the semi-local cashpoint to get cash. We have never had better curry since. Having chosen a terrible camping spot for the night (just outside Portree, and another reoccuring theme), where apparently everyone felt the need to drive at break neck speed during the night, which shook the van. Anyways, that days agenda was to head to the Old Man of Storr. This poor quality picture was captured through the windscreen from my phone - not great! What seemed like a quick jaunt up to the rock turned out to be slightly longer than we expected. This didin't go down too well with Miss Allen having a full bladder surrounded by tourists with cameras. Crisis averted. We noticed that Skye seemed to be quite a draw for internationals, but then probably a lot of them were here visiting this feature. Having circumnavigated the island we opted for a different route back to the mainland. This was the ferry crossing to Mallaig and the water was pretty choppy, with us both getting soaked from the bow spray. The campervans were rocking around pretty violently inside the boat. On departure we drove down through the West Highlands to Fort William, which was an absolutely stunning part of the journey, and unexpected, only making it more impressive. On route to Fort William we passed thorugh Glenfinnan and Loch Shiel where Harry Potter was filmed. We jumped out for a quick look. The loch looked familiar, mius a bit of CGI trickery, as I don't remember the monument being shown.
We opted for a slighly more scenic route back to the M6 and explored the Dumfries and Galloway coastline. Here we had amazing views across the water to the Isle of Arran. It looked pretty amazing and I thought it would be great to head over there one day. It didn't take long, as eight months later I was on the island with uni friends (see other blog post). From here we popped into the Lakes to see a friend, before sadly heading back to Leeds. In total we had covered around 1500 miles in two weeks. That was our limit on the hire van, and we totally exploited all of them. We were happy to have given the brand new van a proper outing for its first big trip. It will likely spend the rest of its days humping and bumping furniture between houses in cities. Urgh! At least it's seen the delights of the Scottish coast.
The Lake District is an amazing place that I have been lucly enough to visit frequently over the years. This used to involve sitting in the car for hours during long motorway journies, but now I live up North it's only a couple of hours away. Result! Initially visits were personal trips with friends, but as my outdoor career evolved this shifted to working here with groups of teenagers. During these professional years, the typical evening culture involved going out for various mini adventures with colleagues. Having spend several years exploring this amazing ntional park the conclusion I have reached is, you could probably spend a decade or so here and not exhaust every feature, or discover every hidden corner. Below is just a summary of snaps taken over the past few years. I'm not sure what image is conjured up when you think of the Lake District, maybe lakes, or mountains, but for most it probably isn't ghyls. There are numerous ghyls to explore (which for non-outdoor folk means a narrow river running through rock in the mountains), that are much more enjoyable during the winter months due to higher rainfall. Only down side, as you have probably guessed is it's blooming freezing! One solution to this problem is to wear a dry suit with a really thick Tellytubby suit underneath, not cool worn on its own, but coupled with a skin of plastic then it works a treat. Many would say this decision is pretty risky, not in a physical sense, but in terms of denting one’s wallet. Brushing past, or sliding over potentially sharp rocks could possibly rip a dry suit, which means it's no longer dry, or warm, with a steep repair bill coming your way. Another thing worth pointing out is many outdoor instructors would rather take considerable personal risk if it means not spending any money. Massive generalisation there, but I'm confidant it applies more than 50% of the time. The wallet is probably at the top of the hierarchy (hey high wages is not typically associated with this profession), with personal safety sitting underneath. Anyhow, often the wetsuit is a safer bet for ghyl scrambling and stands up to more abuse from geology. Descisions about personal attire sorted, focus can progress to getting wet, and not slipping on the derriere, or loosing a kneecap. Each ghyl has its own unique features to play in, including slides, jumps, and scrambles. Some are more technical than others, which ideally requires local knowledge of the specific hazards in order to enjoy them safely. There is nothing stopping you rocking up and jumping straight in, but whitewater should be respected as bad stuff can happen quickly! Doom and gloom over, they are also huge fun! There are also several really cool mines and quarries (some of them flooded) in the Lakes which can be accessed. Sadly, I cannot take credit for this picture (it may be pulled from Google) but this proved to be a regular spot visited in the summer. Stories say this place is haunted, and eerily if you turn your head sideways (to the left) you can just about make out the rough outline of a skull. There are several ways into this rock fortress, one being through a half-submerged tunnel that pops out into a flooded cavern that is pitch black. Jumping into water with zero light is a strange feeling, maybe even weirder than swimming whilst drunk, if anyone else has done that. Not a great idea, but maybe somethhing to tick off once in your life. Having swum across the darkness using headtorches for guidance, wondering how deep it was the whole way the sump is reached. This word terrifies most people when used in conjunction to water, and if it doesn't they probably don't know what a sump is. Luckily that description overestimated the hazard to be negotiated, as daylight could just about be seen through the gap. So, nerves controlled, deep breathe taken, hands braced against rock and plunged body under the water and through the submerged weakness. Few! Sadly, not all members found it that easy, with mild panic soon progressing into severe concern. Outdoor instructors are not often described as the most sympathetic bunch, so this hysteria only held attention spans for about a minute before expletives were voiced. This was an evening away from work and needy teenagers, so the phrases 'every man for themselves', or 'survival of the fittest' summed up the ethos generally adopted in situations like this. Ironically the Lakes is also home to many mountains which you may associate with the name. This place is a massive playground, and it would certanly take a long time to complete every mountain, scramble, climb, ghyl, quarry, cave, and mine. Sadly, word has got out and millions of tourists swampt the Lakes every year, which will likely increase with the recent UNESCO award. So now it will be Beatrix Potter, Wainwright, Wordsworth, and also world heritage status that will be attracting people from all around the world to this small(ish) patch of beauty. Great for the local economy, but also raises the question of how many million people can this small(ish) spot accomdate each summer. Selfish I hear you thinking, well yes, a little. No really I am a total advocate of more people enjoying the natural spaces we are lucky enough to have in the UK, but sometimes just get a little frustrated when natural landscapes are heavily used with little concern for their wellbeing and future sustainability. Yawn! Hippy moment over.... Above and left is a route I had wanted to do for a while, and attempted it a few times during the summer. With a partner that had DNA from Scandanavia she is not particualry good in the heat. Second time round the glasses, hat, sun cream, and huge water bladder obviously still not quite enough. I ended up doing it on my top in the summer, much to her discust. In order for her to not feel left out, we returned in the winter, which was much easier. Vikings were much better at handling the cold, and we breezed up it. Anyways, there are some pretty cool sections of rock in the Lakes, which unlike N.Wales you do have to walk for more than 10mins to access. Many tourists don't make it this far away from their cars or buses parked in towns such as Windermere, Ambleside, or Keswick. Oh well their loss. Here me and a friend walked into this mountain crag to climb 'one of the best VDiffs in the country' according to our friend. A few hundred metres of rock later and consensus was it was pretty good, but maybe not living up to the lable given. Nevertheless we had survived the loose scree slope, and decided we made the right choice of route peering across the gully and seeing loads of climbing kit abandonded on a climb that looked pretty damn tough. As we sauntered off the top we headed back to Coniston for a pint, or maybe an ice-cream, I can't remember. Either way I'm sure it was nice. The 'Sphinx' rock can be seen on the left, which for any walkers sits three quarters up the mountain of great gable accessed by traversing around the southern slope via the 'climbers traverse'. I think it looks more like an Easter Island head, and to be honest was a little underwhelmed when I saw it, but hey. On the right we are ascending to thread the needle a little further on this traverse. It's really difficult to get a good picture of the Needle when you are so close to it. The famous shots must have been from afar with a good zoom lens, as it's pretty damn big. I managed to seize the opportunity the do the Fairfield Horseshoe one winters day whilst catching up with two friends I had not seen in a while. Having realized we had walked too far and missed the turn up in the cloud and snow, we set a compass bearing to get us back on track. We swung pretty close to Priests hole, which is a cave high up in the mountains that outdoorsy people sleep in. We delicately navigated our way there, as it is pretty tricky to find. No wonder on another trip me and a friend didn’t manage too during the night and ended up sleeping in a bivy bag, but that’s another story. Luckily, we managed to find the cave this time which provided restbite from the chilling wind and snow. It was recently featured on country file, and maybe coincidently also had loads of rubbish strewn around the cave. We took the moral decision to bundle it all up and carry it all down. Sadly one of the items was a broken tent, which wasn’t light. Having rested the legs, taken in the view, and eaten our lunch we headed out. This shot was on the way back down towards Ambleside, on the Eastern side of the traverse. This section felt like it went on forever, with legs aching and a tummy rumbling. We staggered into a pub in the town and ordered a pint and food!! Hhhmm.. Having eaten a small whale and got comfy we remembered the car was a few kilometres along the road. Better dig the head torches out and start plodding back. Hey at least we jiggled our dinner down. Bothy, amazing view from window, crazy guy, alost blew us up lighter on fire... Professional
So having arrived 'tup north', I was surprised there was no climbing club at Leeds Beckett University, especially considering there are some pretty decent crags around. I mentioned this to Jason King whilst on my first year outdoor residential. His response was "well set one up then". Hhmm fair comment, but I was a bit reluctant as it seemed a lot of work, and I didn't even know how hard degree study would be yet. Once my first year had passed and some good grades were produced, I finally gave in. Ok so not always strictly 'outdoor' as it mostly took place indoors, but in 2015 Charlie and I founded the climbing club. Currently we are due to start our third year of operation, which is rewarding to know that our sustained gumption and diligence have paid off (helped by some firm words of encouragement from staff). One of the first things we did was make a kit list (every outdoor person's dream). We pitched this to the uni - Dragons Den style. The panel thought about it for a bit, then agreed to buy it all. Result! We set a new record for most amount of funding ever allocated to a society, at several thousand pounds (hey if you don't ask, you don't get). This event also prompted the university to re-evaluate the amount of funding available to societies each year, and led to an increase of several thousand pounds. Win win. Next on the agenda was to strike an arrangements with the local climbing wall. Things first started at Leeds Wall where we approached the Manager Daryl. He was very supportive and keen to get things up and running. His generosity allowed the club to get going very quickly by allowing free equipment hire for all members until ours had arrived. This venue had good facilities with a bouldering wall, top roping section, large lead climbing area, strength and conditioning room, dry tooling tower, shop, and also cafe. You even got a free hot drink if you cycled down. What more could you want!? All of this made the drive / bus journey worth it, as it was across the city for most people. During the clubs early months John Rocks kindly offered his time on a Thursday evening, which helped get things off the ground. Another pair of hands to help train the influx of beginners was welcomed. Apparently he said he had done something like this before, although I think he mainly agreed because of the free meal at ours before we went. I don't know if the students were quite ready for his sense of humour and the associated 'ripping' they all received, but they were soon aware of it. I have known John for about 3 yrs now, and I think the more he likes you the more abuse you seem to get. So for the first two years of the club we ran things quite formally. We had the added bonus of committee with years of experience delivering climbing training and also qualifications. Having decided against the approach of letting members sign in their mates and attempt to pass on any knowledge, which was at best limited, and at worst outright dangerous, we had created a high maintenance system. The alternative approach adopted by many other universities, where students trained others scared me. There is a common misconception that indoor climbing is safe, however I have seen many accidents over the years that proves otherwise. Gravity is a strong force and acts quickly!! I was prepared to take criticism from disgruntled members and stand by my more informed decision. Anyways so over the year we delivered several beginners courses, and also lead courses. Above Max, Lulu, and Beth are about to do some fall practice. Max is trying to calm himself down through the power of yoga, ad Lulu looks so calm she may fall over. Maybe they should have swapped roles for this... Having set up roped climbing at Leeds Wall during year one, we thought it would make sense to introduce regular bouldering sessions. Luckily over the Christmas break a new local bouldering centre opened (minus the setback for flooding), that was pretty convenient for most students to get to. So we didn't hang around and booked a meeting to discuss setting up a regular arrangement with its manager. Initially we weren't sure how popular this new climbing venue and style would be with members. The interest was a pleasant surprise, and the Lab soon overtook Leeds Wall with regular climbers. It is a really nice space with friendly staff which helps. Although it is often mostly guys, with many females not deciding to come back. This more strength based activity, and probably the fact you have to not mind being watched whilst climbing may have deterred some. This new climbing venue had the added benefit of being closer to amenities than the usual Thursday evening spot. Cardigan Fields retail park has several eateries, one of which is MOD Pizza. So for post climbing nutrition on a Monday it seemed perfect, and had to become a regular thing. Once the new academic year started we didn't waste much time in introducing this routine to others, which went down well. It became something myself and others looked forward to, sometimes I must admit more than the actual climbing. So after after a year of use, The Lab remains very popular and will continue into 2017... Along with the weekly pizza, mmm. Throughout the year we spent some money on several training courses for members and committee. One example included a self rescue course delivered by the very professional and experienced climbing guru of the North - Andy Swann (obviously alongside Dan Mckinlay). We had great fun refreshing and practicing rope work, rescues, ascending ropes, and problem solving. There has to be some perks of giving all this time for free, and training felt an appropriate, and fair way to repay committee members. Also this experience filters down to newer members, and ensures a safe club. Win win! Just have to plan what to spend the 2017 training allowance on now... Once the indoor venues and yearly programme were self-sufficient, the next aim was to move outside. There had been a continued demand by members for the club to progress into running formal outdoor climbing trips ever since we started. However, just getting the club to this stage had taken a phenomenal amount of work. Also having personally delivered a LOT of training indoors for members, I was not overly keen to take on more responsibility, hassle, and its terrible to say, but often unappreciative people! To some this was a service they paid for, and the fact that this was organised and delivered by fellow students for free, whilst also studying for a degree wasn't considered. I had already given too much of my free time to this endeavour, and did not fancy holding more hands on the weekends. So crag climbing through the club resulted in friends only, going casually on the sunny days. Half an hour out of Leeds was this beauty, and our local venue Almscliffe! There are numerous multi stared classic routes here, which require jamming, tough skin, lots of cams, and fairly large testicles/courage. Grit demanded a different climbing style to the southern limestone I was used to, and escaping the city to practice with friends was awesome!! A great release from uni life. Slightly further than 30 mins away are some other pretty decent climbing spots. A car is essential really, and with that covered exploring other Yorkshire crags on weekends was pretty addictive. Above we are just about to climb 'Lovers Leap' at Brimham Rocks. Lots of university staff were keen to help out with the club in the early stages. Jason King is one example, and he regularly came down to the Leeds Wall in the evenings, and also occasionally to the crag. Any excuse for being allowed out of the office for an afternoon. Here we are climbing the Matterhorn boulder (HVS 5a?) at Almscliffe, which definitely focused the mind as the mat grew ever smaller. A great problem tho. Many visits later, and most of the easy routes have been completed. The next on the list may require slightly more practice, and the big boy/girl pants to be dug out prior to arriving. Another activity that was recently suggested and introduced by Charlie was slacklining. Here we set up in Hyde Park, and sent an invite to members. It was a very windy, but also incredibly funny afternoon with most of us embarrassing ourselves in some form or another. Within minutes of arriving Harry had managed to rip his new jeans clean open around the crotch area, with boxers on full display (there was a good decision made that day)! Cue heading home for a new pair. In the mean time we had been attempting the 'double bounce', which had spat out several of us clean on our backs, multiple times, which was pretty funny (I thought I may have ripped open my down jacket). We managed to get most of the group all balancing at once, which was held for about a second before collapsing. Then one of the lads casually limbo'd under the slackline as we watched in awe, then attempted to emulate in vain. Good effort. After two and a bit years of running LBU CLimb, the time had come for Charlie and I to hand over the reins to some other keen beans. So having decided on who the best individuals would be, we coerced them by copious amounts of free pizza, and pressured them into this responsibility. That's how clubs work isn't it? At least that's how my experiences have been. Anyways, the cool kids that make up the new committee will take the club forward into the future (hopefully this cycle continues for many years to come). Tom is the new president (above left) and maybe regretting his decision of eating a big dollop of Naga sauce on his carrot (that he won in a raffle). Also Max has agreed to come back for another year (on right) and is in awe of limbo skills previously mentioned. We have total confidence in you all to do a great job of running the club. Gulp.
High Atlas Mountains TrekArriving into Marrakech was a stimulation of many senses. Even late into the evening it was unbearably hot, with the overinflated hotel price well worth it just for aircon. Next on the agenda was food, so off into the sea of people we went. We were allured into an eatery with the strapline of "no diarrhoea for a month", which sounded good to us. First mistake of the trip, we let the locals suggest what was good to eat, clearly they saw us coming and provided us with the most expensive spread of food available. Turned out the strapline was true, which made us feel slightly better about getting ripped off. Also in reflection it turned out I had paid about a fiver for a bottle of late night water, much to John's amusement. The collective plan for the rest of the trip was a much more assertive approach!
Day one of walking consisted of a lot of road / track underfoot. This provided a good opportunity for me to realise my rucksack didn't fit particularly well, and I was probably more unfit than I should have been. Once we found a place to call home for the night (a patch of dirt to put the roll mat) we realised we had run out of water. So off John went to find some. About an hour later back he comes, with me ready for a cup of tea. "Couldn't find any he said". Argh balls, ok so off back down to the road I went. First good move of the trip, I decided to be polite and cook the rice, turns out I did such a bad job according to John that he cooked for the remainder of the trip! Result.
At the end of a long and physical day it was really nice to arrive at such a lush camping spot next to the river. The rucksacks then exploded over the grass, bivis set up alongside. This attracted a fair amount of attention from the other Europeans sleeping in tents. "You are staying in those things" was mentioned several times. I think we were seen as the crazy Englishmen. I think I probably agreed with them. Oh well, at least we had erected a bespoke washing line for airing out the socks. Brilliant! Potentially the shot of the trip here. John practicing his Golum impression, whilst simultaneously attempting to find the hole in his air mat. So obviously offering lots of sympathy I did the first thing anyone else would and grabbed the camera. After several calamities of broken kit, we made it up into the mountains. All be it with John nursing a sore back and no camelback anymore. Having had to ask a local shepherd to point out the path / way through a very steep and rocky valley we were making progress. After a relentless and morale sapping ascent up to this saddle we set up camp. This was about 3500m and we had the place to ourselves to enjoy panoramic views. After dinner, falling asleep under the stars, looking up to see the most spectacular view of the Milky Way was insanely memorable. One of the best wild camping spots I have ever stayed. After a long and physical ascent up the valley (bit of a reoccurring theme here) we made it to the Toubkal mountain hut. Surrounded by the crowds of many other nationalities we checked in. Over dinner we met two other crazy English guys. It tuns out they flew into Morocco, drove to the mountains, and hiked up to this hut all in one day. Day two for them consisted of attempting Toubkal, which is 4000m +. Clearly not a good idea, which resulted in two broken men sitting before us in a wallow of self pity and upset stomachs. They had no knowledge of altitude, and minimal experience of trekking and seemly everything else. They were very funny tho with many stories to tell. We decided to avoid the crowds as much as possible and took another route up Toubkal. This peak is the reason many westerners come to Morocco and draws huge crowds, we we were managing to avoid, result! Having the luxury of staying in a mountain hut meant we could ditch the 20kg weights on our backs and go light and fast. Many others undertaking this ascent were struggling badly with the altitude (cough, cough the other English lads we met). But being older and wiser we had already spent a week in the High Atlas acclimatising. This meant that the highest peak in North Africa, which on paper would be the hardest challenge actually felt very easy. We passed the broken wreckage of a downed plane ascending the quiet and shaded valley, before topping out next to Toubkals subsidiary peaks. We bagged these, before finishing off what we came for and made the final 150m height gain to, once again join the crowds at the true summit.
Roof top terrace with boiling hot stone calls for a sculpture of clothing. Sweat was evaporated almost instantly and the UV hopefully killed some bacteria. Thats what I told myself anyway, it made me feel slightly cleaner. Having explored one Atlas Mountain valley we headed back to Imlil and our old friend Ali, where we chilled out for a day or so. Much mint tea was drunk. This stuff was starting to grow on me, despite reservations on arrival. Maybe it was the MEGA sugar cubes that were helping sweeten the taste. Not sure about the teeth tho. As decent food was tricky to source out in the mountains we had a brainwave. For each evening meal our host Ali cooked us some sort of naan bread. As they were pretty dense we coined them "discuss bread" which due to the weight we were sure were packed with calories. So we paid him to cook many of these and wrapped them up to live on for the next few days. Note to body, this decision did provide fuel, but sorry for the lack of fibre, micronutrients and protein. John even looks sceptical of this choice shown here. Like a moth attracted to light. It was nice to cool off tho! This was the mild peril ledge. In the night I got up to go to the toilet as quietly as I could, to not wake John. Having done my business I retuned, obviously making slightly more noise. With John alerted to somebody approaching, he looked over to my sleeping bag with it still lofted, and him thinking I was still tucked up. He peered out of his bag to say in a really soft, likely a little scared tone of "hello who's there". I'm sure he will argue differently, but this was probably the highlight of the trip for me. I think I laughed out loud, which I'm sure he was very glad to hear my voice and it wasn't some weirdo after his expensive western gear. The head of the valley revealed a paradise for climbers and mountaineers, with snow still lingering despite it being peak summer. We attempted to ascend a gully to get another perspective of Mount Toubkal, however there was thick solid compacted ice sprawling across the width of the gully. We attempted to push on, but with no crampons or axes we decided we did actually want to return home. We attempted to bypass this mega iceberg, but this led us up onto very steep verging on climbing terrain. Again no climbing shoes, rope, or protection. We retreated with our tail between our legs, having made a sensible decision. Take 2. Having spoken to a local mountain guide and some Americans we got some inside beta on a new route. As our cousins from across the pond call it a "couloir" or in our tongue and less dramatic as always a "gully" was suggested to us. Having taken in as many instructions as we could remember, we set off. We quickly realised gullies are better kept for winters where the snow and ice can freeze all that loose scree and choss solid. So there we were battling up an energy sapping, never ending scree slope thinking why the hell did we listen to the yanks. It was the gully on the far right of the picture. Having cursed a lot, and added about 5yrs of wear to my new boots we flopped onto the flat ground in front of us. Johns never ending compacted flapjacks had never tasted so good. A quick reading on the pulse oximeter showed we were both pretty close to intensive care by the GP's standard. This gully led to a spectacular high plateau. This was at an altitude of about 3500m and stretched out miles in front of us. Cue the headphones and antisocial behaviour that we both needed in that moment, we ploughed on in awe of the baron mountainscape before us. Once the plateau ran out we had reached the edge, where we could see across to the parallel valley we had spent the week before exploring. We dropped down a few hundred metres before bagging two more 4000m peaks. We paused for a while to regain some energy where we had an amazing view of Toubkal in front of us. The route back to the hut meandered through a moraine littered valley. A little bit of down climbing a waterfall later and we arrived back to the safety of our mountain hut. What better way to spend the last day in Marrakech, than taking all day to find McDonalds. Turns out this is a place where kings hangout, and those fortunate enough to be able to afford this fine cuisine can enjoy elevated status amongst their poorer counterparts. So John and I blew most of our remaining money and joined in. We had run up a large calorie deficit. My torso was starting to look chiseled, which lasted about an hour before were gorged on grease. Yum yum.
Ring of Steall - Mamores Having arrived at our hostel late on Friday night, and after a busy week at uni, I was glad to hear the plans for the weekend. When the Ring of Steall was mentioned, my politeness went out of the window as I asserted my desire to take on this route. Previously I had attempted this classic with a friend, minus crampons and ice axe (I'm embarrassed to say). You can probably guess the outcome, which resulted in our retreat. This time it will be different! It's a formidable opponent to take on, requiring almost 1700m of ascent over 10 miles, bagging 4 Munros along the way, with a guidebook time of 9-12hrs. So in winter conditions this challenge is made even tougher, due to deep snow and lack of daylight hours. The walk into the first major ascent required the river to be crossed via this rather Scottish sized bridge. I've done this before, but some club members were slightly nervous. Offering support I obviously got the camera out, just in case the worst happened. I would have helped afterwards, honest. Once that obstacle had been successfully negotiated, we headed towards the very icy looking Steall Falls. Another river crossing, this time no bridge, and several hidden pools of water fallen into later we were at the foot of our first big ascent. Time to properly warm up, sounded good. Matt (or should I say Dr. down, using his most recent title) did a good job of leading the group through this thick cloud. Scotland was reminding us where we were choosing to spend our free time. So once the group reached a section where it got considerably steeper, I can't fully remember the way it happened now (as I'm writing this a few years later) but it was either (a) I got pushed to the front and told to lead the way, or (b) I volunteered for this responsibility. Either way, the Beckett student was out front running the show, with the Leeds Uni cohort following on (rivalry was always going to be mentioned). At first this involved wading through waist deep snow, which took a while, and several hundred calories to overcome. Being the spearhead of the operation for a short time, and breaking trail through a massive snow drift led to easier ground. Maybe one of the many things attending a Russell Group Uni teaches you is when to delegate jobs to others. In this context it was just before a large amount of physical exertion was required. Mug on my part I feel. Some delicate footwork was required whilst wearing spikes on these narrow ridges. We only had one quick stop during the whole route. There wasn't really any spare daylight hours to be spent eating, this had to be done whilst on the move (glad I made wraps). In the morning we set off as the sun came up, and in the evening we arrived back at the bus just as the sun was setting. Perfect planning and use of the day. If anything untoward had occurred, we would have been digging out the head torches and night naving off the hill. Nevertheless I was glad to be sat on the bus and resting those aching legs. The thought of doing a VO2 max test on a treadmill at simulated altitude, back in the Leeds Beckett lab tomorrow did't seem that appealing right now. But being a man of my word I had agreed to do it, so put that thought to the back of my mind and focused on the multiple hour journey back south instead. What a great first trip with LUUHC. Torridon I had always wanted to see what was further north than the West Highlands. So when LUUHC advertised they were planning a trip to Torridon, I had to get signed up. Bring on heather, lochs, deer, whisky, old sandstone, scrambling, spectacular views, and possibly midges. Having arrived in Torridon on my first summer(ish) trip with this bunch, the committee announced what the mountain line up would be over the next few days. I was approached and asked if I minded leading a group across the Liathach (grade II scramble). Seeing as I hadn't done anything in the hills with many here, I said as long as everyone in the group were confident and capable then I'm game. So the result was 'team strong', seen above. Ben on the far left had also done it before several years ago, so it should be a breeze. Bring it on! So with several hundred metres of steep ascent behind us, we could see the route ahead. First impressions were WOW it looks awesome, shortly followed by thoughts of "why has it taken me so long to head up here"? Anyway, time to focus and enjoy the delights of scrambling over 500 million year old sandstone. There were several short sections of rock to negotiate along this ridge line. Having reached a section of steeper rock (not in the picture shown) there was a choice to be made. The obvious option for walkers and scramblers was to head left and stick to the easier terrain. However, some members mentioned it would have been nice to climb up the more vertical section to the right. Considering the large drop, I responded by suggesting "lets get the rope out and do it". Being a climber undoubtably helped levels of confidence in environments like this. So having belayed all members successfully up this steep section of rock, it was announced that I was the first person to have deployed the rope on a club trip. I was quite surprised by this, but also content in my decision to require protecting this section and enabling the more adventurous option. Once back in camp the eccentric individual that is Jessie decided to instigate a quick yoga session. The randomness of this caused individuals to run over and get involved (Roy with his midge net still on). This may have helped to ease tight muscles and stretch out for the next days adventure. Cooking in the evening was a difficult affair, with the mass of midges often impeding progress. Having retreated back to the tent too many times, the tummy clock eventually won. Head nets were brilliant, but were also somewhat restrictive when it came to eating dinner. If your diet consisted of a liquid one (cough, Sina) then this was totally fine, but for the rest of us it was a constant emotional battle. For some it even got too much and they checked into a YHA down the road (not mentioning any names, Sam). This provided a great excuse for others to get out of the rain, away from the flying critters, use the facilities, and lounge around on sofas. I'm happy with being a fair weather camper when there's a more luxurious option. The second big route of the trip was a traverse of Beinn Eighe's pale Quartz rock. We got dropped off by our shuttle bus and started heading up. Once we reached the ridge line we could see the many miles stretched out in front of us. This was a big undertaking. The undulating terrain occasionally presented a few scrambling opportunities. These were often optional and could be avoided, but still fun to play on. Having decided against ascending another peak at the end of this traverse, we dropped down and past the spectacular Triple Buttresses. This corrie provided an amphitheatre of rock all round for 270 degrees, it was truly spectacular. So much so, we had forgotten to take our helmets off. We also noticed bits of aircraft wreckage strewn across the hillside, which we inspected on the way down. I remember thinking that flight hadn't ended well for somebody, and even if anyone had survived it would have been a long walk out! Having looked it up, apparently in 1951 whilst on a navigational exercise, an RAF Lancaster bomber struck the summit at night in poor visibility, and tragically all nine aircrew lost their lives. This route seemed to go on forever! So we decided to have a breather by the lake, air the feet out, and take on some extra calories. If somebody could come and collect us or bring us some dinner that would have been great.... With the realisation of this being unlikely, we pressed on. Some of our days up north were indeed wet. You can't expect anything else from Scotland, and it made those dry and sunny days even more special. Anyways, what to do when it's miserable weather? Well we headed for the nearest pub (not sure the Torridon Inn would welcome being referred to as that) but hey, I'm sure they aren't reading this. One pleasant surprise, other than the dry and warm environment was the addition of several board games. Result, perfect entertainment during this rainy day. When numerous hours are available then the obvious choice was Monopoly, which we soon became engrossed in. This was a really nice space to spend time, that was made even better by the addition of tea, coffee, whisky, and high quality food, depending on who you were. With another wet day presenting itself to us, and deciding against spending another day at the pub (mainly due to the hit on the wallet) we opted for a valley walk. We stayed low and took an easy route. This allowed other members of the club to practice their leadership and navigational skills. There were several things to see along the way such as this beautiful waterfall. We all paused to get our cameras out, and took advantage of this opportunity to get a rather soggy looking group shot. Funny this was the best of several attempts, as we had totally missed the waterfall in the background. Just for further variety, during one morning or afternoon, we decided to try and cross a mini estuary where a river exited into the loch. This required damning the current in order to keep our feet dry. This started as a bit of a joke, but soon progressed into a full group commitment. Before long ten or so people were all working together, fulfilling different roles, to get this thing accomplished. Several hours may have passed, before we had built something that resembled any form of structure. With a large average IQ (not that has anything to do with physical tasks) we all stood back and admired what we had constructed. The only thing left to do was cross, on route to the pub, which we did. On one of our last evenings we decided to ditch the camping stoves and head out for a more sophisticated meal instead. We jumped into vans and headed for Applecross bay, which involved negotiating the meandering, but stunningly beautiful country roads. We even had to dodge an influx of highland cows. I did think we may have to explain the multiple horn marks down the side of several hire vans paintwork. The location of this restaurant was unbelievable with amazing views across the sea to the Isle of Skye in the distance. Also, I was totally surprised to see this smallish establishment, in the middle of nowhere, to be crammed to the rafters with customers. It must be good food. This was a really nice way to end a top trip, with a great bunch of people. My experience with LUUHC was a good one, and I looked forward to another adventure with this bunch. It's a shame it never happened, as I opted to divert my time into setting up a climbing club at my own University (see other blog entry). Keep up the good work as your club provides a great experience for many students studying in Leeds!!
So not stricly outdoors to start off with, but still several years of my life that felt like an advenure at times. This new chapter started by touring many cities and universities, which was made harder by nursing a sling and recently broken clavicle (above is post surgery, and a year of regrowth). If you wondered, yes Charlie and I came to uni together (argh). It was her idea, I just had nothing else going on in my life at the time, so thought why not. We both decided Leeds was going to be our first choice, and so the applications went it. And if you wonderd how I broke my collar bone, I went off a big drop off on my mountain bike, then straight over the handlebars.. Right of passage apparently. To make it worse, Charlie completetly missed it in the camera shot.
On the way home, and again in keeping with student logic we booked a National Express coach as it was cheap as chips. Turns out there is a reason for this, and our bus broke down on the motorway mid journey. The exact words from the front (shouted by a staff member that had only been doing the job a week or so) were "quick, everyone off, it's gunna blow, leave your stuff". The engine had overheated and something had indeed blown, so there was smoke billowing out of the back, and spewed oil over the road. Having assessed the situation and deemed it safe, I jumped back on to grab my remaining possessions. It didn't take long before several fire engines and police had attended (those overhead cameras obviously worked). 30+ people ended up having to walk down the hard shoulder and up over a fly over to the nearest pub, with a rolling escort of multiple emergency service vehicles. It would have been quite exciting if we didn't have another 200+ miles to go. Urgh. At least the house hunting trip had been a success, so this hassle was kind of worth it. The first time I saw Headingley campus it was fair to say 'impressive' was one of the words that sprung to mind. It was a really nice thought knowing this would be home (during the day) for the next three years. That time has come and gone now, and my position has changed slightly, however I can honestly say I still haven't tired of this view every time I walk out of my office and look across the grass. This place I'm sure will be forever associated with good times and oppertunities. Leeds Beckett is pretty unique as a uni as they send many student cohorts away on a week long residential at the start of their course. We were luckily the pilot group and made a longer than usual trip to Scotland and Glen Coe. We stayed in the swanky HF Holidays place that Plas-Y-Brenin use for its clients during winter courses. It had a proper retro Scottish lounge with token deer antlers on the wall, and even a swimming pool and hot tub. Result. It also had amazing views from the garden, seen above left. For many students this was their first time North of the border. Their loss. So once the adventures of Scotland had subsided, student life settled into a more mundane affair. It's fair to say that throughout my degree I worked pretty damn hard. This ethos likely stemmed from my negative experience of mainstream schooling, which felt minimalaly relevant to my life, resulted in regular truanting, and unsuprisingly grades that left something to be desired. "Not reaching his potential" was commonly mentioned on most school reports. So fast forward ten years or so, you can see why I was keen to prove I had an ounce of intelligence and achieve something worthwhile. In order to do that above was a common scene, even in first year, likely in stark contrast to many others that were just there for the ride (in more ways than one). Being adults and having a fair chunk of life expereicne already undoubtedly helped this new venture. Good food definitely helped our ability to take in new information, contribute to discussions, and produce decent work. We were often amazed some students were still alive, having gone out for multiple days in a row until 4am, surviving on microwave meals alone, which for long stints does not create the best conditions for learning. Boring but true. We certanly indulged in a few late nights out, but being an adult never let these effect our day to day commitments.
It was nice that my course did semi-regular outdoor trips away. Above was on my week long residential trip to the Lakes where we did the via-ferrata course in Honister Valley, above is stood on top of Fleetworth Pike. It was satisfying that my course enabled me to do something I had not previoulsy, just a shame it only happened once. This is where the proposed zip wire would start from that had its planning application rejected. Having settled into our new flat, and uni life now becoming familiar, the next thing to do was explore Leeds. The city is an amazing place, with so many things to explore. This is one of my favourite shots looking up the central stair shaft in the Royal Armouries museum. It's defiantly worth a visit some time. Another really cool space is the Corn Exchange. Leeds has so much amazing architecture to explore, with an abundance of history to accompany it. We have lived here three and a bit years now, and there are still exciting places that keep suprising us. Finding some of the cities more interesting spots was quite fun. On the left was coffee at the Hilton hotel roof top terrace. This place is one of the highest buildings in Leeds and has great views of the surrounding area. Looking out makes you realise how undulating the cityscape is.
Leeds is also pretty good for sport, and this is the annual Varsity competition at Headingley stadium between the cities two universities. Beckett's claim to fame is they are currently unbeaten. No mean feat, and a great statistic. Although the academic outcome competition is routinely won by the Russel Group university. Sob. Pull your socks up fellow students, there is more to life than the bottom of a glass. The Tour de France recently came to town, which was shortly followed by a British version coined Tour de Yorkshire. Original. Anyhow, cycling up here is pretty popular, and I have routinely bumped into the Brownlee brothers, usually surrounded by people whispering and attempting to subtly take a picture.
Extending our cultural capital we occasionaly visitied some sophisticated events. This performance is the Nut Cracker at the Royal Ballet theatre kickstarting feelings of Christmas. Not the first thing I would volunteer to watch, but I could certainly appreciate the physical ability of the dancers. Their feet must have been made of titatium, or just in tatters at the end. Respect! Some Outdoory Stuff... So after a year or so, uni had become fairly routine and we had explored most of the main attractions in Leeds via bus. The next step was to start exploring the local area. We had both sold our cars before coming to uni, so were bound to the city. But now we had managed to get our hands on the dream machine that is a Mazda Demio. If that doesnt ring a bell, then let me tell you this moster is third generation in the family, twenty years old, and the most practical car ever. With our new set of wheels we could venture further afield. Some of our first days out included Yorkshire classics, such as the loop around Goredale Scar, Janets Foss, and Malham Cove. Headingley is pretty close to lots of green space, that we were starting to enjoy with regular trips to the Yorkshire Dales. Living in a second floor flat can soon become fairly claustrophobic, especially with no garden. But visiting places like this definitely helped relieve cabin fever. More was needed. Leeds is fairly landlocked and Charlie missed the coast. Understandable when you have spent 20 years of your life growing up around amazing coastal locations such as Poole Harbour and Sandbanks. We headed East and visited Robin Hood Bay. Not quite as warm as the golden sand down south, but still a nice place to explore.
This is another good day out with family, taking advantage of a croquet set being left on the lawn. Always keen to try something new we embraced this upper class tipple and experimented with different grip types. My undergraduate journey rapidly came to an end! It really does fly past. Despite only having a short period actually on campus, when there it is pretty intense. Luckily for me the Government decided to introduce new funding for post-graduate study, which meant the experience could continue. Having deduced I did not want to study a taught Master’s degree I frantically put together a research proposal for my own study. Having just made the deadline I submitted it and crossed my fingers. A month or so later I got the good news and green light to start! Receiving the keys to my new office, and accepting my laptop was a very surreal moment. I suddenly felt very grown up. Having stocked my shelves with books, and sorting a coffee machine, it was ready to work.... Fast forward six months and I am halfway through my research project, with thoughts of PhD proposals regularly flitting across my mind. One sad realisation is the more you read, the more you realise you don't know! Gotta end on something deep :)
Mount Meru - 4562mThis was the sight from the plane window as we flew into Tanzania. The larger massif is Kilimanjaro (5895m) with its flat top, with the slightly smaller, but far more technical peak at the bottom being Mount Meru (4562m). Amazing to see what we will be climbing in a few weeks so clearly from above. The trek started gradually meandering across open plains full of wildlife with an armed escort, before progressing to denser vegetation. I really like this shot of the group with heads down, and legs full of energy. This feeling soon wore off amongst group members after the first day, when most probably realised they should have done some sort of fitness training. When questioning teenagers about their preparation, the responce was "well we walk to the corner shop and back". Oh great what fun this is going to be... Students whinges and moans were soon quashed when they saw the epic humans that are Porters carrying a full sized table up alongside them. On their heads! As you do.. So with their struggles soon put into perspective we carried on upwards. Having only had a short time in the high camp, we decided against ascending the optional lower summit option for energy conservation. We set off for the main summit around midnight, with head torches fully charged. A short breather here with everyone wrapped up shows how cold it was. By the early hours of the morning it was absolutely freezing, I was slightly cold with all my decent kit on. I did feel a little sorry for some of the teenagers in their less substantial equipment. It was such an amazing sight to see the sun slowly rising in the distance over Kilimanjaro. Not long now until the rays hit us, I was willing the heat on so much. We paused for a moment to check out the spectacular view of the moon retreating above the clouds. Argh so much better, how things can change so quickly. That ball in the sky beating down on us once again. Thermal leggings + sun + altitude = not a good combo. The once lush green vegetation couldn't be any more contrasting with the rugged landscape up here, it reminded me of the moon. Not that I've been, but from pictures obviously. The group were virtually spent, with a little way to go. We rested for a short while before the final push! Cool to be above the blanket of cloud below; sunglasses, lip balm, and suncream working a treat here. Once an active volcano, the ash cone below was a fantastic sight that temporarily distracted us from the relentless physical undertaking. Woohoo we made it!! So glad to get to the top. I am forcing a smile here, whilst experiencing the worst headache ever. My head felt like it was going to explode. Mount Meru has a steep ascent profile, with several thousand metres of height gain spanning only a few days. Wow was I feeling it now. Short stop to take this picture and sign the book that was up there (bothy style) before heading back down. The locals that do this trip every week are absolute machines, with legs like pistons - respect to them. Every step down felt better, with a little less pressure in the skull. Charlie (my partner) gave me a teeny tiny flag to take to the top, which I did, however forget to deploy. So with a bit of slightly wonky camera trickery this can be seen placed firmly into the all rock summit. Cha-ching, hopefully that will earn me some brownie points.
Landscapes Our first camp in this amazing country was at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Every day we were spoilt with amazing sunset/rises such as this. I remember this being a sunset, but logic tells me this cannot be the case since Tanzania is on the East coast of the continent. So as the sun rises in the east, I must have dragged myself out of the tent to observe this one morning. My memory is a bit cloudy writing this three years later. Either way this setting was a really nice place to spend time, with its tepid waters, the warmest I have ever experienced so far. In stark contrast to the coast and ocean we also headed inland, where huge open savannas dominated. Here you can see Mount Meru (4565m) in the distance, which we climbed towards the end of our trip (see another blog entry). Community Crossing a dried-up lakebed, we saw a local child casually strolling across. I seized the opportunity and took a quick snap, which I think wouldn't look out of place in a travel agent’s brochure for Africa. We also noticed some pretty huge pawprints on the floor, which was slightly worrying. Hopefully my group of teenagers didn’t look too appetizing. I really like this shot of me chatting to a local guy about his life over in Africa. I remember asking how they manage with the continued risk of Malaria. His response was that people do often get ill, but they try and build large smoky fires to keep the mozzies away. Over time apparently locals do build up a resistance and tolerance to the bites they receive. This expedition was fairly unique as it had a large staff team. Typically, there would be two teachers, one male and one female. This school had decided to bring five, which including myself totalled six adults. Before going I thought "argh happy days, life will be easy with all this help, bring on the monthlong paid holiday". So, then this happened. Their fatiguing school year obviously winning the battle here. The guy on the left (Rob) had a high-altitude sunbathing accident whilst on the mountain later in the trip. When looking after some of the teenagers unable to continue for various reasons he decided to have a rest and fell asleep. I hear you think ok, what's wrong with that. Well let me tell you, up at around 4000m there is considerably less air, gas, atmosphere, or molecules to block the sun’s rays. The result is a massive UV risk. So, as he casually lay asleep his eyelids were being incinerated with no sun cream on (because who would ever think to apply it there). So, the next day with crispy eyelids he realised maybe that was a bad move. Lesson learnt for me too. Once his eyelids had recovered and surviving the high altitude cold temperatures on the mountain with a budget paper thin sleeping bag he returned to form. His high energy and lack of concern for looking the fool, Rob was amazing at rallying the locals. The child wrangler. This was great for group morale and interactions with the local community. Project Work As most of the teachers delivered design and technology in school they were a fairly practice bunch. Having met the project staff, it didn't take long for the ego fest to begin. Most here felt they were the strongest, but the guy wielding the machete probably needs to win. Common sense really. The locals work ethic was pretty hard to keep up with. I was amazed some of them were digging for hours whilst wearing a fleece and woolly hat in 30 + degree heat. They even did this during Ramadan, which meant they couldn't eat or drink during daylight hours. Machine seemed a fitting word to describe them. Here we were building a house from sticks, mud and reeds. The deputy head just ensuring everything is up to standard. Two lads learning the delights of plastering, but still trying to master the art of getting it smooth. There may be a little way to go before you would want them replastering your living room, but standards over here were not quite as high. Packing the gaps of this house with mud was a pretty exciting job, which started fairly sensibly. This didn't last long and Cherie one of the teachers decided it would be far more fun to lob a few clumps of mud around. The teenagers really got into mixing this mud up with their feet, which was pretty funny to watch as it oozed out of their toes. It got even better then when they realised they had to clean them before putting their boots back on with no towels. Another interesting job was to make paper from elephant poo. Not something I had heard of, but something I was prepared to try and embrace. Luckily, we heard that the turds had already been baked in the sun, so were dry for us to handle. Phew! There was even a specific recipe, like baking a cake, which we followed rigidly. We all pummelled the mixture in a massive mortar and pestle made of wood and pressed out some rectangles onto a table. Once dry we all proudly kept them to take home and show our family. Not sure my sister really knew what to do with hers. Apparently flip flops always washed up on one of the local beaches, and interestingly it was always the same foot. It must have been something to do with the plastic top bit (whatever that's called) effecting the aqua-dynamics of its journey through the ocean. One of the projects involved collecting these, cleaning them, and glueing them together to make a large(ish) lump of foam. The locals then used this lump to carve out an object or sculpture, which they sold. A brilliant way to clean up the environment, help protect wildlife, and also make money at the same time. Genious. Wildlife During our expedition we had the amazing opportunity to go on a two-day safari to Ngorongoro Crater. It was like somebody had designed a wildlife park for tourists, but this place was totally natural. A massive bowl sunk down into the floor surrounded by hills, full of wildlife. These are a selection of some of the best shots I managed to capture from the truck. It's a shame my camera is only a cheap one, as I'm sure the students with their snazzy SLR's got snaps that were a lot glossier. This is my personal favourite showing an actual zebra crossing! A que of safari trucks waited for the herd to cross the track. Surprises There were a few suprises whilst out in-country. When walking back to camp after a hard day of project work, we stumbled upon this home workout gym. I think it may have been pointed out by a student, but in this persons backyard was a full set of weights. What was more impressive was that it had been home made, with the weights fashioned from poured concrete with a metal bar inserted, and a wooden bench. It doesn't allow for much progression, but you have to adire the determination to get fit. Another nice surprise was checking into this luxury hotel lodge for the afternoon for some much needed R & R. It had a heated solar pool which the teenagers spent hours splashing around in, whilst the adults did a spot of sunbathing and caught up on some reading. It had amazing views out onto the open savanna which was pretty amazing! We also had a really nice social meal together and laughed about the funny stories during the month. The director of the company even came to meet us, which was nice, until he told us about a plane crash somewhere just before we were about to fly home. Not great! When I saw the truck trundling along the plain kicking up a dust cloud, I must admit I was a little sad to be leaving both this lodge and Tanzania. This was my first taste of a developing world country, which was a fairly big culture shock. It took a while to adjust back to UK life when I got home. Travel gives us an additional perspective to view our own society and country. This clarity enables a more objective view of our day to day lives. One feeling after this trip was a 'developing world country' such as Tanzania could learn things from us in Britain, but this was also reciprocal, and we could also learn much from them. Wanderlust is a powerful draw that seems to only get stronger the more places you visit. Expeditions ever summer seemed a great way to explore the world on a budget.... Just a shame you have to spent it with so many emotional and stroppy teenagers!
Our trip started by visiting a very posh lounge in Gatwick airport thanks to the generosity of a family member. Waiting for us was an all you can eat buffet, (or in the more classy establishments I believe it's phrased "eat as much as you would like" its not a challenge apparently) a range of daily papers, numerous iMac computers with internet access, a soundproof cinema (where most of the kids were deposited), and a great view of all the planes on the runway (not that I'm a plane spotter, but still quite cool). Flying into Geneva we had amazing views from the plane window of the lake, likely several very expensive yachts, and also the Mont Blanc massif in the distance. We met our transfer company indicated by a lady wearing a Mexican sombrero (interesting marketing strategy - at least it stood out in the alpine airport). The journey which felt around an hour was about thirty euros each. Try getting a similar taxi ride back home for the same price, we were well pleased. In Munich it cost that for a 10min transfer to the airport, maybe the 100+mph trip on an autobarn affected the fare? So after struggling to find our chalet in the dark we awoke to a pretty impressive view from the balcony window. In true alpine style there were shutters on all the windows, which we closed on the first night before going to bed. I woke up in the night to go to the toilet (too much detail maybe) and just so happened to check my watch. What I thought would be the early hours of the morning, say 2 or 3am actually turned out to be almost lunch time (bit of a suprise)!! So seemingly complete darkness and no light pollution seeping through overly thin curtains definitely does the trick. So Jess and Dave (Charlie's family friends) keep this dream machine in the garage all year round. We named him Pierre! Well actually Charlie named him Pierre and I went along with it which I suppose is the same thing. Anyways, having this pocket rocket meant we could be more independent and explore the local area. We soon noticed he had a rather squeaky wheel which was slightly disconcerting, and also quite flat tyres. So, Charlie consulted her French phrasebook and rehearsed many times what "have you got some air for the tyres please" was, or something similar. So that done, and her very pleased with herself and lingual ability we were free to explore in truly French style, not standing out like the foreigners we were. This disguise was totally working until we came to a roundabout, and going the wrong way blew my mind, almost causing a traffic pile up. The driving was fine, just weirdly it was figuring out the indicators in a new country and car that took a lot of getting used too. I managed to master overcoming years of muscle memory probably the day before we came home. Whilst visiting an old friend that was currently managing a chalet out in Megeve, he suggested we should go and do a via ferrata. This sounded a great idea, however we didn't have any kit with us. "No worries he said I've got everything you need". So having borrowed a harness, helmet, via feratta lanyards, and a pair of shoes we set off (luckily he just happened to be the same shoe size). What a place to stay/live, with the possibility of so much right on your doorstep. Having snapped out of the daydream we jumped into the French pocket rocket and headed off, crossing our fingers and hoping the squeaky wheel did not fall off. The drive was very wiggly and also incredibly hilly. Pierre struggled a lot with this, much to our mates frustration in his modern car, and I wouldn't describe him as the most patient person in the world. Apparently this mountain pass was on the Tour De France route, so massive respect to those riders ascending these hills under leg power alone. Once we arrived at La Clusaz via ferrata it looked impressive, with hundreds of metres of limestone to be traversed. Being fairly late in the day already we got cracking! There were some pretty cool features along the route including a pretty big wobbly bridge to negotiate, and also we found a cool hole in the limestone which obviously required a photo to be taken. There were a few steep sections that required a bit of grunt to haul up over some overhanging rock, but nothing two climbers couldn't handle. So, it turns out that Morzine and Les Gets is a mecca for downhill mountain biking in the summer months (this seemed common knowledge amongst friends). Anyhow, the lifts and shuttle buses that typically accomodate skiiers in the winter months transform to hold slightly crazy people wearing full body armour and bikes . We had only been there an hour and a Land Rover ambulance was being mobilised to scoop somebody up off the dirt. "Go big or go home they say", well maybe it should be "go big and potentially go home in an ambulance". I think this risk aversion is possibly being influenced by my recent mountain biking disaster and smashed clavicle.... Anyhow, there were some pretty monstrous bikes being ridden to the max by a range of ages and nationalities (including little kids). Lets hope it wasn't that serious for the guy/girl in the ambulance.. Charlie doing her pose for a Cotswold catalogue and the distant stare here. We walked up to this old wooden cabin which had amazing views of all the surrounding mountains. We could see the Mont Blanc massif in the distance but it was shrouded in cloud. We also wondered what the hut was used for..? And didn't really reach a conclusion before heading down. There were also loads or paragliders taking off from the higher hills, which were impressive to watch. I suppose lugging a massive canopy up to 2000m was never so easy with the cable cars. Luxury. Just down the road from Morzine was Lake Montriond. We drove here for a day of chilling, literally, as it was blooming freezing. So wimping out of the icy cold water, instead we opted for walking around the waters edge checking out the amazing scenery along the way. On another day we headed to Chamonix, hoping the squeaky wheel would hold up (reoccurring concern present). We decided to bight the bullet and shell out on the ridiculously priced cable car ride up to the Aiguille du Midi. This is as close to Mont Blanc as you can get really without actually walking (hey this was a sightseeing holiday). At 60 euros each it was expensive!! On the way down and once we passed the last suspension pylon, before crossing the world’s longest span, the cable car dropped from the sky, which felt like a lift out of control. I was totally unaware this was going to happen and not holding on to anything at the time. I think I let out a feeble yelp and may have grabbed Charlie, much to the local’s entertainment. I think the local mountain guides had probably been waiting to observe the unexpecting tourists. Also, another thing we noticed whilst queuing and traveling in this cable car, was how the oriental tourists clearly had a different perception of how big the 'personal space bubble' is. Once a flood of western tourists had qued and stood with what they considered appropriate space between each person, a second wave of Asian tourists piled in and filled all of the gaps. I suppose they are small, but blimey, I wouldn't want to travel on their underground based on that experience. The views from the first stop were pretty spectacular. Alpine spires and glaciers surrounded us, with a few famous names present such as the Aiguille du Dru (I have read several books about this face). It was obvious the glaciers were retreating over time, with piles of moraine heaped up on either side. This was taken from the top deck where we enjoyed watching mountaineers ascend this icy ridge, likely heading for the relative comfort of the Aiguille du Midi station. There can't be many other places in the world where you can step out from a concrete tunnel, through a little barrier onto technical ice slopes and down onto a glacier. This is how accessible mountaineering has become, providing you have enough money. Alpine style is clearly a rich mans/womans sport. It was a bizarre mixing pot of people that occupied the upper station. Examples included Japanese tourists wearing trainers and taking pictures with their cameras (standard), to mountain guides leading their clients up the Cosmique Arete (suppose standard in the Alps). I even noticed a guide belaying from a metal fence railing, suppose it saved placing his own protection. Another observation was the apparent alpine trend in relation to outdoor clothing - it was BRIGHT! It didn't seem to matter what brand you owned as long as it was many shades brighter than we typically tolerate back home. Above is a bad example and the best is a muted red, and a slightly brighter green. But fluorescent orange pants were the norm out here. Britain we need to be a bit braver and step out from the olive green. At 3842m the Aiguille du Midi is undeniably an incredible feat of engineering, considering it was proposed in the Victorian era, and building ceased in the 1950's. It would have been finished earlier but had to be suspended (excuse the pun) due to both world wars. It even has a lift to the very top carved out of solid rock, a gift shop, flushing toilets, and a post box! Maybe these engineers should have a word with whoever is building HS2, they might be able to shave a billion off. We got the obligatory high level snap with amazing views in the background. It did feel a bit of a hollow endeavour having ridden the cable car up. It was definitely memorable and over time the small fortune will fade away. Before heading back to Morzine we seized the opportunity to explore Chamonix. There was a lot of wining and dining in the streets, loads of gear shops all selling jazzy kit, and a mountaineering museum. I think motivation to have a second home in the Alps was definitely just born. What an amazing place, and only a short flight from the UK. We will be back once a second small fortune has been accumulated. It felt like this is how mountaineering should be, jump on a cable car, access hundreds of metres of vertical rock quickly, then be back down in the valley for beers and food. Slogging it out on the damp slopes of Scotland suddenly didn't seem quite so appealing. Maybe that's why a few friends are going for their international mountain leaders award...
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