End result was a day spent battling winds just to make headway, watching an old duffer fall over in front of me several times before catching up and suggesting he dropped down to a lower level path – oh and seeing the air ambulance come in for a lass who had broken her leg after getting blown over on Stanage. Then I actually got blown on to my backside at which point I decided to take a time out. Although I was bloody irrirtated at having to duck out, I’ve also had a spot of time to reflect on what happened and although I would have survived I’m sure, I’m also sure I wouldn’t have had the most comfortable of nights either. A good call considering the damage the wind did that day.

/merr’meuh ray”sheuhn/, n.

1. an act or instance of murmuring.

2. a flock of starlings.

Enjoy.

Young Giles himself.

I want to write about my experiences of last weekend, not as a review of what happened, but instead how I felt after the weekend as my mind has been buzzing for the last couple of days. I’ve promised Giles I will do a full review over on the Togblog which I will hopefully get done this weekend, but I hope you will forgive this interlude away from the usual outdoor related matters.

I came away after the weekend on a bit of a high, and I have been reflecting back this week on what was said over the weekend and how I felt. The key thing that made it special for me was the chance and time to learn something. This might sound blindly obvious to you but is it? Too often learning becomes a dirty word, reflecting back on my own experiences at school and being forced to learn certain subjects. It’s also something as we get older we perhaps lose the time to pursue.

For me, not enough focus is made on learning things for your own enjoyment. Having worked in a challenging educational environment in the past, my strength was always to find studies that people wanted to do. Straight away you have people who are committed, enjoying themselves, and engaged in what they are taking in.

Last weekend reminded me of this at a basic level, but it also ties in with what I have been reading about happiness – we need to continue learning to develop a sense of self worth and peace. It also leads on to the second major thing that gave me so much pleasure from the weekend, and that was the people that were involved.

I have not had the chance to learn a new skill from a teacher in a while. Along with the rest of society, I have been using the internet more and more to research and learn. It’s a total treasure trove on any subject that humankind has any knowledge on, and although we now have much more of a social experience on the internet with Facebook, Twitter, Forums, Comments and the like, I was reminded that the power of having a learning experience face to face is not to be underestimated.

One of the most popular subjects of the weekend!

You cannot see a perplexed face on the internet and check someone has learnt something, you cannot see someone at home doing what they have learnt and correct them when they go wrong, and you definitely cannot interact with fellow students as well as I have done this weekend. I make no bones that it was technology that was good enough to introduce me to the likes of Giles, Will and the rest of the gang. The actual workshop though was made so much more amazing as a result of being face to face. I could have learnt how to take photos from the internet, but every time I go out now to take a photo, I will remember the experiences and emotions of this weekend and I will be inspired.

There we go, some obvious stuff there mebe, but it still needed to be said. It probably helped as I mentioned that the people there this weekend were pretty special. Will & Giles, thanks for giving of yourselves so completely, you have a gift and warmth that mark you both out as two of life’s good guys. To Eleanor, Aaron, Nat & Alvin, thank you for sharing and being such great company, I was truly blessed to have had such a great weekend.

Chris wanted a heavy rucksack to test the fitness thing, so I kindly offered to help out packing his rucksack. As a result, he ended up carrying a sack of potatoes, and several gas cartridges I had lying around the utility room. He didn’t realise that until the end, at which point he thanked me with a long, cold hard stare. “It’s OK” I told him, “It’s what friends are for.” He didn’t even thank me, I mean that’s just rude you know?

The day started out with a little drizzle and it was heads down to get up over the first hill, strolling on in silence. The rain seemed to keep some of the tourists at bay and it wasn’t long before Durdle Dor was in front of us, and Chris had a huge grin on his face. It’s a classic sight, and I will never tire of seeing it.

click to make any of the photos bigger m'kay?

Forgive the lack of blogging again folks, but the reasons this time have been good ones, namely I have been out walking so much that I haven’t had the chance to write anything up about my latest jaunts. Two weekends saw me out along the South West coastal path with my good friend Chris, the weekend after saw me up at Monsal Head in the Peak District for a bloggers meet with Terry BND. I even managed to sneak in a wild camp with Phil Sorrell of Social Hiking. I was at it again this weekend camping with the family, and next weekend I am under canvas again with Giles Babbidge of the active photographer. It’s been an amazing summer and I promise I’ll start writing about it. Just as soon as I have stopped having fun.

Shoulder height has dropped noticeably and it’s been a lovely morning so far catching up on outdoor blogs. Bliss.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Butts View,Bakewell,United Kingdom

I’m not sure about you, but whereas my pack was getting lighter when solo backpacking, I found that when I was heading off with the family, I was actually taking more and more stuff. Two burner stoves with a grill that could just about cook a marshmallow. A full set of table and chairs. The solid, niche, canvas frame tent that are legends to longevity and stability. A box of toys that would put a small nursery to shame. Whereas at work I would gaze in rapt admiration of the Nemo Obi tents, at home I was looking at the portable kitchen station with space for a washing up bowl.

Click me to make me bigger.

The end result of this was that I simply could not be bothered to go camping en famille. It meant getting together a load of stuff, putting a load of stuff up, taking a load of stuff down and finally putting a load of stuff away again afterwards. So last August, me and the better half sat down and had the following plan which we called stealth camping.

Our aim was simple. Make camping as a family easier and lighter. Our new mantra was to just leave it all behind. Not to go and buy a load of lightweight gear, but instead just focus on the basics. So unless something was utterly critical, it got binned. We decided that we were not allowed to camp for a long time (weekends only) and could only decided to camp on a Thursday night, to leave Friday night. This, more than any other choice, has had the trick of really making us focus on the gear that was important.

In the end this is what we got down to, it’s not an exhaustive list, but it pretty much sums it up.

Lightweight family tent. – We’re currently having fun with the Limestone 6P, but we also have a Robbens Double Dreamer.
Trangia Stove – nothing big or fancy thanks very much
4 bowls and 4 spoons, a sharp knife and a spare plate
Cool Box
4 x sleeping bags, 3 sleeping mats and a cot.
1 outside toy for each boy.
Child Carrier for Ellis
Torches, duct tape, penknife, first aid kit
Clothes
Maps, compass and map case

Erm thats it I think.

We tried it out for several weekends at the end of last summer, and just had some of the best outdoor weekends we have ever had. The boys ended up going nuts outside and playing with natural stuff they found, rather than the toys they brought. We no longer stressed about what we had forgotten or not having stuff, and instead just got out and about and enjoyed ourselves. We felt free. We felt liberated. We fell in love with camping again as a family.

This does have it’s limitations, we are limited to camping realistically within a 3 hour radius of home, but hey that means we don’t cream cracker the environment. Occasionally, you may suffer the pitying looks of people who gaze at you from their portable decking with the BBQ and camping chairs, but it’s a small price to pay.

It’s a Thursday today. Nobody has said anything yet. We’re not allowed to you see, but the diary tells me I haven’t got anything on this weekend. Game on?

This post was one I previously published on the TogBlog, as usual though time is limited so in case you missed it, I’ve brought it across here. I promise I’ll try and get a bit more regular soon, it’s just that I don’t like posting until I have something good to say.

Well, we had a spot of holiday last week, but the weekend before saw us head off to the gloriously titled Mackintosh Davidson woods. I’d spotted it when downloading maps of the surrounding area on Viewranger, suddenly seeing the words nature reserve just shy of West Knoyle. Curiosity piqued, I filed it away in the grey matter until we finally got the time to pop out there. The start boded well. Dorset is too posh for my liking sometimes, too many fey little villages with price tags that would make a footballer blush. The drive out to West Knoyle was different though, working farms and houses that were run down gave a more honest feel to the countryside.

We parked on the high street, (if you could really call 5 houses a high street) and headed through the gate. Woods for me offer some of the best walking, the smell of the woodland floor, trees and flowers is kept strong under the leafy canopy. The light is always special and these were no different. The last of the bluebells still gave off their fragrance as we wandered, following Ifor who charged ahead. The path danced in and out of clearings until we came out of the oaks and startled the deer grazing nearby. They took a while to get the message until both boys crashed towards them in delight and they vanished as quickly as they appeared.

I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no choice when walking with kids, there is a point when trying to get them to fit in with what you want them to do just won’t happen. You can either have a cruddy time trying to batter them in to walking in a straight line, or you can let them do their thing with a little prompting.

Walking on, the tone of the wood changed to silver Beech, and them to pear orchards. We stopped for a bite to eat and marvelled that the woods still remained peculiar to us, no-one else gracing the paths we travelled.

I guess all I really want to say about this walk is don’t go to the Mackintosh Davidson woods. Don’t go as no-one knows about them and we saw no-one there all morning. Don’t go, as the variety of woodland and unspoilt little trails will leave you wanting more. Don’t go if you’ve got kids as the playground at the start of the woods rocks. Don’t go if you are miserable, as these woods will undoubtedly make you smile. Don’t go if you want your kids to have a good time as they definitely will. Don’t go if you want to feel uplifted and at peace. Don’t go if you don’t like taking your son on a zip wire. Have a look at our flickr set for more reasons not to go if you don’t like beautiful blue skies and green things. Definitely don’t follow the route we stored below on Social Hiking.

I’m a photo, click me to make me bigger.

Meeting up with Sean at Nant Gwynant car park, we headed back to the Pinnacle sports cafe in Capel Curig for a bit of ballast for the day ahead, and to decide what we wanted to do. I have always been keen to do the North ridge of Tryfan. My better half has never been a fan of scrambling and so whenever we have been in Snowdonia, we have always passed on doing it. Sean kindly agreed and so we headed down the Ogwen valley to park at the foot of Tryfan.

I think Tryfan is perhaps the most beautiful mountain to look at in Wales along with Cadir Idris, and I was genuinely excited to be climbing it. I don’t have a huge fondness for heights, attributable to being up the Kyoto Tower when a 6.3 richter scale earthquake hit on our honeymoon. Sean was decent enough to keep me away from the more exposed elements to the east, but at the same time, we took more of an interesting route up, away from the standard smooth rocked trail.

A steep ascent gave us some rapid height, and the route that Sean had us following led to a massive grin on my face. I had ditched the large sack from yesterday, and just had a small scrambling sack. Pausing to drink in the Carneddau opposite, I struggled to think of a time when I had more fun on a mountain. I was loving the physical challenge, but not feeling too exposed, and I really started to enjoy myself. Heres the route I took on social hiking;

Getting nearer to the top, the final section of Tryfan came in to view, looking like nothing else but a selection of rock lego bricks piled up by Ifor, my three year old. The top came too soon for me, and we perched for a while, catching our breath and some amazing views.

The descent was down by Llyn Bochlwyd. By this stage my feet had realised I had walked for a while the previous day, and decided to let me know that they weren’t happy with me. I’m sure other people feel the same as well, but I really have no fondness for going down hills. I would rather climb all day than have to step down. We soon reached the saddle leading down to the lake, and Sean pointed out Bristly Ridge. Keith has often said in conjunction with the North ridge of Tryfan, it is one of the best hill days out in Wales. It certainly looked like a hell of a lot of fun, but sadly we had a 6 hour journey in the car ahead of us, plus our exertions from the day had left us both zonked so we meandered gently back to the car.

The journey home was made in a comfortable haze of tiredness, Sean driving down through mid Wales, a route I had never taken before which was a treat in itself. Heading past the other side of the Moelwyns, Rhinogydds, Cadair Idris etc, plans were hatched for the next hill visit. I usually drive whenever we go anywhere as a family so I enjoyed the rare treat of not having to drive at all. Soon my head was lolling around like a broken doll and I awoke just as we came past the black mountains in the Brecons. Tempted to stop for an evening stroll, we resisted the temptation and continued down to Dorsetshire and home.

Snowdonia has so many memories for me as most Easters before the boys were born, we made the journey up to the Rynys campsite in Betys y Coed to stay with a wide variety of friends and family. It felt strange to be there without Cath, but at the same time I realised that these times are what we live for. The memories, experiences and challenges we gather from the hills, are many times the potency of the experiences we pick up from every day life. It has been too long since some proper hill time for me, but a week after my visit, I am still casting my mind back to an amazing weekend, and if truth be told, still feeling the tiredness a little!

I’ll write shortly about the gear I used, but in the meantime you might want to have a look at all the photos I took on Flickr

There is something about the quality of early morning light that uplifts you and Saturday morning was no different. Lots of low lying mist coupled with the pink tinge of dawn made 2:45 am feel years away. We arrived in good time at Betys y Coed and drove up to the Pinnacle cafe in Capel Curig to load up carbs. They know their customer base well , as half the breakfast was potato! Sean was up doing a Geology course as part of his SPLA qualification, and was due to meet the rest of his course at Pen y Pass. As usual though, the car park had been full since dawn, so we parked down by the Pen y Gyrd hotel, and set off to walk around the back of Moel Berfedd to Pen y Pass.

The whole weekend had nearly been kyboshed as I had picked up a decent bit of lurgy from the weekend before. As we started off up the hill my chest reminded me of this with a bubbling rasp that no amount of coughing could dislodge. It didn’t bode well. Taking leave of Sean at the top end of Llyn Cymffynnon my plan was to follow the ridge up to Glyder Fawr, heading round to Glyder Fach.  I would then follow the miners track down to Pen y Gyrd, before heading down the valley towards Bethgelert and a rendezvous with Lauren for a wild camp up at Llyn Edno.

Click any of the photos to make them bigger.

I haven’t been back in the mountains for some time, and I had a certain amount of trepidation about my navigation skills and fitness. Dorsetshire is great and I’m pretty active, but nothing makes for good hill fitness except, well, you know, hills. Initially however the stillness of Llyn Cymffynnon, the call of the birds around me, and the presence of the hills made me just glad to be there. I had deliberately chosen this route as the path less travelled, and I was rewarded with no-one else around me. I spent some time just breathing it all in as I strolled upwards. It was rather claggy and the hill fog came down thickly. Before I knew it,  I was way lower than I had planned to be. Not happy with myself, I began to climb sharply getting irritated with my lack of navigation nous and the bubbling in my chest. Stopping after a while I started to mentally slap myself. It was three years since I had navigated in something like this, and a year or so since I had been up an ascent as steep so I made peace with myself that it would take a while to get back in to my hill rhythm and skills. Stopping and pausing by a beautiful bit of quartz, I paused, had a bannana of justice, told myself to follow Helen’s advice to go with the flow a bit, and just enjoy where I was a tad more. I couldn’t see anything much due to the hill fog, but I could hear. Birds calling from the Llyn below and water wandering in the earth under my feet soon restored my calm and I headed upwards with a happier stride.

Topping out, I became mighty puzzled. There was absolutely no-one on top of Glyder Fawr, which was unusual to say the least. Taking advantage of the fact I was carrying all my kit, I brewed up. Blessed by the kindness of the weather, I then had quarter of an hour of cloud cover clearing whilst I descended to Glyder Fach. As the cloud cleared, Tryfan appeared , and actually made me stop. I don’t think anything has made me have such a physical reaction on the hills, but it’s manner of appearing, and that as a mountain it’s a point of kick arse rock made me come up short in wonder.

Hill fog sneaking in again, I headed down to Castell y Gwynt and started heading up over the top. My navigation and route finding were found wanting again however,  so I ended up scrambling with a large sack. Feeling uncomfortable and slightly top heavy, I backed off, heading around and towards Glyder Fach. By now the hill fog was in nice and heavy and I decided to aim off to find the ridge and trickle down to the miners track paying more attention to my nav. My skills started to come back and I was pleased to hit the trail where I thought I would. Coming out below the clag, I came across an old welsh couple pausing on the hill. The moustache immediately marked them out as part of my grandparents generation and we shared a quiet word and chuckle.  One thing I had forgotten about hill time was the social nature of coming across people, particularly on busy trails. Everyone is doing something they love for the most part, and is generally good company. I reaped the benefit of the encounter, enjoying an impromptu lesson of Welsh pronunciation on the hill. Despite my parents being both Welsh, I’ve never lived in Wales so my accent is shocking. They soon had me sounding like Richard Burton however and I strolled back towards the car, rolling my R’s in a manner to which Jones the steam would have been proud of.

Although the social hiking map above finishes here, my day had not, I just decided to save some of my battery for the following day as I was due to wild camp that night with Lauren . Heading down the valley towards Llyn Gwynant and Beddgelert, the transition from mountain moor to wooded valley bathed in sunshine gave a lovely counterpoint to the day. Approaching the campsite by the lake, it all became a bit peculiar for 3:30 in the afternoon. The sounds of banging techno lurched across the lake from a group of Teepees, and I encountered several groups of Scousers with cans of beer wandering randomly through the woods on the far side. Leaving them behind, I moved further up in to the woods above the lake, the mossy trees and buds of spring giving new energy to my tired legs.

The rest of the walk was a gentle meander down the valley to the car park at Nant Gwynant where I met up with Lauren. By that stage I was pretty pooped, my first full days hill walk in a while having covered quite a distance. Lauren is an MRT member for North East Wales Search and Rescue, and she had been trying to contact me during the day to say she had been called out for a search since 6 that morning. As a result, we decided to wild camp, but rather than hump up to Llyn Edno, we headed towards Llyn Llagi to find somewhere a little closer to camp as we were both shattered. The evening sun was glorious and we soon found a spot overlooking Craig Wen, Yr Aran and Snowdon, pitched our tents and broke out the single malt. A gentle evening in the company of the brightest moon I have seen in some time was a grand re-introduction to wild camping. The setting sun over mountains is something I can never tire of, and being outside again in good company put a tired but seriously happy smile on my face.

The only downer to the evening was the two chocolate deserts we had both brought along. The initial Mountain House main course was superb, never having had them before I was mighty impressed with the taste. The subsequent Wayfarer chocolate pudding was however, utterly stomach churning, and Laurens choice wasn’t much better either!

All that was left was to fall in to the shelter of the Obi 2 Person I had brought along, and give thanks that I didn’t have to see the numbers 2:45 again the following morning, but just dream instead of Tryfan’s north ridge.

Flickr set