Light penetrates the tent and I leap joyously out of bed. Well, ok, maybe not. But I certainly don’t linger and am up and about quite early. I’m keen to make the most of the weather while I can. After … Continue reading TGO Challenge 2017: Day 10 – Soggy Sunday and The Pants-gate Scandal
I last saw fellow Dornie starter Dave in the shooting hut on the way up the Monadhliath, but now he is sat there at breakfast. I join him and we discuss routes for the day. We’re both headed for Braemar … Continue reading TGO Challenge 2017: Day 8 – The Shortcut
Renewed hope surges through me, thanks to the liberal application of whisky last night and some ibuprofen this morning. To cement the deal, a big cup of tea for breakfast and then I seek out the “facilities” – it’s my … Continue reading TGO Challenge 2017: Day 7 – Everything Looks Better After a Big Glass of Whisky and a Poo
I wake, refreshed by a decent night’s sleep, to the knowledge that yesterday’s big day has given me options. This is a nice feeling and I resolve to buy similar opportunities throughout this walk. I’ve only got about 23 miles … Continue reading TGO Challenge 2017: Day 6 – Solitude and Sole-itude
I wake from a terrible night’s sleep, courtesy of some late night banging next door and lots of raised voices. It’s lucky I’m awake early as it’s a very early start. I have to catch the ferry at 8am and … Continue reading TGO Challenge 2017: Day 5 – Chocolate Brownie Land
Rain falls during the night, not unexpectedly given I’m in the Motherland of Rain, and does little to speed my leaping joyously out of bed. I lay and doze, listening to the geese overhead, the song birds somewhere near, and … Continue reading TGO Challenge 2017: Day 3 – Raincoat Hokey Cokey
A decent night’s sleep is had, despite some snoring from the room’s other occupant, and so much so that we’re late to rise. We’re also slow to breakfast and slow to set off. Basically we’re slow in every way conceivable. … Continue reading TGO Challenge 2017: Day 2 – Fluffy Slippers and Anchovies for Breakfast
Recently I unearthed a couple of sets of typed route instructions for sponsored walks I did at school in the late ’80s. I remember these being in the region of 20 miles, which I polished off fairly easily, which was nice because I was at a sporty school and was crap at most of those sports. I remember feeling slightly smug being one of the only kids with proper walking boots. I remember feeling less smug when my Dad was operating on my heels to pop the resultant blisters, a job he botched so much I still have rough skin there to remind me of those days.
In recent years, the vague memories of those days have set me wondering about these routes and they’ve achieved an almost mythical status in my head. Many is a time I’ve been out for a walk on the North Downs and felt a stirring of a distant memory or wondered if such and such a path were part of the original walks. Now this is all solved. Continue reading “Old Skool”
Just as I arrived at Paul’s, he had the news on and a general election had been called. I took this as an omen that there could be no better time to lose myself for 3-4 days in the middle of nowhere. Continue reading “The Quest for a Furthest South”
What little fitness had been instilled in my legs in Wales already felt like it was ebbing, and so it was time to top them up. The aim was simply to do a long walk and carry a decent load – and to have a bit of up and down. That ruled out staying my side of the river – it’s pancake flat here. I quickly hatched a plan whereby I’d catch the Tilbury ferry to Gravesend and do a big circular walk on the North Downs from there, finding somewhere to pitch up overnight. The sort of thing I’ve done many times before, usually when training for a bigger walk to come. Continue reading “Making it up as I go”
The euphoria of knocking off 15 miles and nearly 1000m of ascent on a day when I was feeling sluggish soon wore off. The wind picked up in the night and was really pressing on the tent. Again I had bits of cheap Chinese inner in my face. I was glad to get up, but boy was it cold. I set off wearing 4 layers. Continue reading “Cambrian Way #9: Bryn y Fedwen to Mallwyd (Days 20-21)”
The need to get in some serious backpacking practice before the Big One in Scotland in May saw me heading back to Ponterwyd a bit sooner than I’d expected. I’d decided that the Cambrian Way would be a suitable training … Continue reading Cambrian Way #8: Ponterwyd to Bryn y Fedwen (Days 18-19)
The Mardyke is my local river (ignoring the fact that the Thames is actually nearer), and I’ve done many walks along and around it. This time last year I even took Little Miss Hillplodder for her inaugural wild camp in … Continue reading The Mardyke Bivvy
Cath was safely dumped at Exeter St Davids, Jim was heading home, and Paul and I had a camp planned. The mission was twofold: a camp at a favourite tor, and a return to pick off a rock formation that eluded me last time I was in the area. Continue reading “Another New Year on Dartmoor – Part 5: A Night at a Favourite Tor”
Stood at the sink washing up one night in September last year, it suddenly occurred to me to add up the number of camps both I and my daughter, Rebecca, had done so far that year (I think of a lot of odd stuff like that while washing up). I realised with all of the various forms of Scout camp she’d been on that year, we must be pretty close in our totals. It was, nevertheless, a bit of a shock when I found out how close: Continue reading “The Great Camping Challenge 2016”
