Ancient and Modern

 

 

 

TGO Challenge Stickiness

(You can click on the graph to make it bigger)

There was a question over on the TGO Challenge Message Board about the drop off rate of first timers on the TGO Challenge. I had often wondered about that myself - so I set to, to find out.

The above graph shows the entrants to this year's Challenge that were accepted at the first pass in November. It shows those attempting their first Challenge (108) and right over at the right hand end of the graph, Bill Robertson, amazingly, attempting his 29th crossing!

Make of it what you will!

A Bridge Too Far

With increasing age you find, somewhat depressingly, that things ain't what they used to be.

• Memory for one, but that was dealt with in an earlier post.
• Slim, trim figures. Sigh. It's not going well on the belly front; it has to be said.
• Judgement.  You would have thought that with age would come a bit of wisdom. Oh dear on that one too...
• Eye Sight. Now there's a good one - so let's stick with that for a moment.

Miss Whiplash, Lord Elpus and I meet up at a cracking little pub in the middle of sod all - the Maid's Head at Wicken. It has a fine selection of real ales and so we feel duty bound to sample them all between us. Miss W won't let us sample all of them on our own as we have miles to walk and she is determined that this time we will actually leave the pub.

 

So it's off out into the freezing Fenland Air. We start our route at a giddy 6.0m above sea level and promptly set off down the side of the Fenland Ridge, down, down onto the Fen to be met by an unusual sight; a herd of Polish ponies:

 

 

They are more interested in chewing the trees and we continue to another pub - this time really in the middle of nowhere as it proclaims to be "Five Miles From Anywhere." Another new to me Ale is tried and found to be excellent.

 

Now then, the next two pictures are for Phil - they are to be an aide-memoire for future walks in the Fens.

 

and

 

It's just that at the second pub Phil chooses a route after a great deal of peering and straining at the map that should make a nice circle back to our start point. After a great deal of slithering and sliding along the dyke's newly raised and incredibly muddy banks we arrive at the point where the dyke is mightily deep and wide and cold and where there is, in fact, no bridge. So is it down to dodgy ageing eyesight or does the man truly believe we can walk on water?

 

We slog back to the second pub but Miss W does not allow us respite for refreshment. No - she whips our sorry backsides along the other side of the bank to continue our murderous training regime. We know we will thank her for this in May...

 

We spot a cormorant, barn owls, heron and zillions of ducks (more than Darren) and have a jolly time in the faint warmth of the setting Fenland sunshine.

 

Winter Sports

Sitting on my settee (the settee is my friend) with a glass of rough old cider, watching a nail biting match of American and British women and their curling tongs, it reminds me that tomorrow Lord Elpus and I will be flogged around the icy Fenland Landscape by Miss Whiplash.

It leaked out that on our last walk (unattended by Miss Whiplash) from Reach, we never made it out of the pub - the Dyke's End - as it sold rather nice beer and it was all horrid and drizzly outside. We're 'Ard Bastards, Lord E & me...

So tomorrow we are being chaperoned to ensure completion. The route has been set; a big one, with no slacking allowed. I have just taken a peek at it on my mapping software:

Maximum height: 9.0m

Minimum height: -3.5m

So at least the oxygen will be in plentiful supply. No fear of nosebleeds.

TGO Challenge: The Dog Days

These are the dog days of TGO Challenge. The route is in and approved. The weather is still February; dull, raw on your skin and dark in the evenings. It is a time of waiting.

 

The belly is still there, grinning like a dull grey stone in a shiny hinge. The weekend walks have stalled for a number of reasons - family ill-heath, Valentine, and lethargy. The Winter Olympics side-track me into referred fitness - I certainly feel better watching all that exercise - it's all quite breathless stuff over in Vancouver.

 

My kitchen skills are coming on but my belly looks on reproachfully as it thinks everything must have been cooked in lard. The Challenge Message Board has been lively as there is now only twelve weeks to go.

 

Phil has been busy as tonight I have had an email planning our journey up to Lochailort - we fancy a less frenetic journey this year, so it looks like going by train to avoid all the unpleasantness of CrazyJet and RobbingAir and outrageous car-parking fees at Airports. A good man, is Phil. He has his eye on the ball.

A Clash of Compulsions?

Glass bottles then cans, cartons of fruit juice, root vegetables, packaged meats, breads, vegetables, soft fruits, eggs.

You will have got there by now; it's the order you load up the conveyor belt in the supermarket. Well, okay, it's the order that I load up the conveyor belt in the supermarket. It's not OCD at all, well not in my book - it's just a sensible way to pack my shopping without the heavy items crushing and damaging the lighter goods.

It's a system that works for me and I am sure it works for you too. (Come on, admit it, you do it too.)

So, the other day in Waitrose, I was stumped and confounded to be confronted by the lady on the check-out with a system of her own. I didn't notice it at first - but began to realise that something was up when the goods coming down the slope towards me were coming at a slower rate than normal. I noticed that she was selecting items from the upstream end of the conveyor in a very particular way.

Apples, bottles, breads, butter, cans, carrots; it went on, with no apparent rhyme nor reason to the order of selection.

It was causing havoc with my packing regime at the downstream end.

It was only when I got home that I realised what her system was - it was selected alphabetically!

Disappointed...

I was in London for lunch at the rather good Cafe Boheme having a rather tasty steak frites, béarnaise all washed down with an excellent Gigondas. Full of the joys of impending Spring, I suggested a short stroll over to the Paramo Shop in Covent Garden. This wasn't my other half's idea of a thrilling retail experience, but well, we had just had a nice lunch and it wasn't far away and I never spend too long in shops anyway so we skipped on over there.

I wanted to take a peek at the new Velez trousers that I had heard so many good things of on the web, most recently from Andy Howell - thanks Andy.

It's a smart little bit of London with all sorts of first class outdoor retailers jostling for trade in the vicinity and so having found the shop I was full of expectation as it was to be my first visit.

Now I have to start off by saying that I am a total Paramo fan - I have worn Velez jackets for about ten years and am so supportive of them that I could almost be classed as a Paramo Disciple. The idea of a new pair of trousers that would be more stylishly cut than Paramo's previous offering (Cascadas - big and baggy) and in a wonderful black colour-way was just too good to be true and really had to be investigated, even at their seemingly expensive price tag.

Well, Paramo may well be a market leader in technical clothing but my oh my! What a dreadful shop! It has all the feel of a jumble sale as you enter - racks and racks of clothing suspended with precious little clues that tell you what clothing is where. The range of colours that Paramo comes in are not what most people would call 'bright and cheery' - for very good reasons - and so the resulting array of drab colours don't make for a cheerful environment. We mooched about the shop (it's not very large) and eventually, almost by chance found some trousers - then some more trousers and then with a bit of luck the Velez trousers.

They look like this:

Even from the photograph you can see how poorly made they are. Seams have gathered material and so they have a permanent wrinkly finish (so they will go with my skin texture then...) and the belt loops just do not fit the belt at all. The loops are far too big. This will mean that the belt will ride up above the trousers when worn and dig into you. The belt buckle itself looks really flimsy.

So why am I niggling on about this? Well, these are expensive trousers- they have a RRP of £140 and for that sort of money I want them to be better made than this.

Now I am not a retail guru and I don't really like shopping but I was with someone who could shop for Britain - and does. As a 'retail experience' she agreed with me - it was pretty poor. I really do believe that Paramo should get someone in to sort out their dismal shop. As we left we noticed that in the shop window Paramo are advertising for a new manager for this shop.

Foundations 2: Four Star Award

As well as bringing back Ugg Manor last weekend I have inherited my Dad's Bureau - a piece of furniture that was shrouded in wonder and mystery as the drop down worksurface was only unlocked and opened when people like the Liverpool Vic Man came round or Dad was writing a cheque for some school outing or other.

It was a grown up bit of furniture.

Within its two draws was all sorts of wonderful stuff - a newspaper that had George VI's death as its headline, an aerial photograph of what likes Monte Casino (Dad fixed Hurricanes that were in action in that particular battle) and then a few more personal treasures - the children's handmade Easter Cards and the occasional child's certificates.

I am sitting on the settee at the moment with a certificate to celebrate the fact that I 'accomplished a successful ascent and descent from the Parachute Regiment Training Tower' when I was the tender age of 13. I must admit to being particularly proud of this one as at the time I was absolutely terrified. I have certificates to show that I had attended three Patrol Leaders Training Courses at the age of 12 and 13.

But the biggie - yes the real biggie was the Amateur Athletic Association (Sponsored by Wall's Ice Cream) Four Star Award.

I was amazed I got this as until then I hadn't considered myself very 'sporty' at all. I had always been a bit lazy. However, I completed 880 yards in 2' 22" and a mile in 6' 00". The Long Jump was 14' 6". None of these results are startling in any way - in fact they aren't particularly good at all for a 13 year old boy.

But Jings! The effect that receiving this award had on me was electrifying.

A whole new world was opened up and before too long I was busting these results by miles and miles. I joined the school's athletics team and became a winner. Or more importantly, I became someone who wanted to win as, truth be told, I didn't win very often.

It was a turning point in my life.

TGO Challenge 2010 Cairngorms FWA and God and stuff.

(You can click on the map to make it larger)

The organisers of the TGO Challenge like you to put in FWA's (Foul Weather Alternatives) for crappy weather so that you have a plan already sorted out to keep you safe in nasty weather.

I believe I mentioned in an earlier post that Phil & I think it's wiser to plan the route for horrid weather and then, if it is particularly nice & sunny, we don't have any horrid head-aches, the grass doesn't look overly long and we are at least three quarters of the way through our mammoth food bags, we'll have a bash at some Munro or other Fine Weather Alternative.

However, just occasionally and I do mean occasionally, we actually plan our route with a Big Day in mind. That's why you will see the map above with the little radioactive symbols clambering up Carn Ban Mor, skipping lightly over Moine Mhor and putting up the tents at Loch nan Stuirteag. It's going to have to be particularly horrid to keep us off this route this year as it is On Our Route Plan. So, I need you all to put your hands together (eyes closed) and pray to God for lovely weather please. If His Holiness, the Incredibly Irreverend Dave can do it, it would be appreciated as he might have the inside track to Big G. Nothing like a bit of insider dealing.

However, the following morning, if it's horrid again, (well thanks Dave - that didn't work, did it!) then we'll drop down into Glen Geusachen. But you will note that there are little green question marks that says if it is Fine - then we shall be nipping over Beinn Bhrotain before dancing down to The River Dee and a big party at Braemar.

Simples!

Film4 Morons

I have just sat up to watch one of cinema's most amazing films - The Godfather Part 2.

But Film4 comprehensively cocked it up by playing one sequence twice and missing out an entire sequence. But only after I had sat through three hours of the film.

Some bastard should be sacked for this! I can't imagine Vito Corleone standing for it.

Foundations 1: Ugg Manor

An interesting day.

My father died in 2006, leaving behind my Mum who soldiered on at the family home until fairly recently when it was agreed by all that Mum would be better cared for and have a better quality of life in a care home.

Well, the time has come to sell her home in order to help with the payment of her care. A brother and two of my sisters have done a wonderful job in getting the old house sold in double quick time.

Today I met with my brothers and sisters to go through my parent's sixty years of accumulated household belongings. We had to decide what to do with the stuff that Mum doesn't have with her in her care home. Mum & Dad weren't 'well-off' by any means and without the people to whom it mattered, their possessions looked a forlorn sight. But today we found jewels in the form of memories from the mundane:

My two brothers delighted in Dad's lovingly cared-for woodworking tools, My three sisters found their memories too.

But I came away with a treasured memory: Ugg Manor.

My first experience of the great outdoors was in the back garden of my childhood home - my elder sisters and I built a tent out of an old woollen blanket and some sticks. We christened it 'Ugg Manor'. It was immediately an adventures and our own secret space. It was a home from home. I was three years old and it was a swelteringly hot summers day but we loved it.

The blanket's holes and tears echo the memories and adventures lived beneath its canopy.  Now that old woollen blanket is washed and drying over the banisters.

Ugg Manor is home again.

BT: A Sense of Humour

Last Sunday, our usual triumvirate of mis-shapen walkers (well, in truth, only two are mis-shapen) had a stroll around the deeper parts of Suffolkshire, at times clambering well above the snow line and bagging at least two Suffolk Tops. Just after leaving the wonderful pub at Cowlinge Lord Elpus happened to bump into the following startling red obelisk:

(It had been vertical prior to him colliding with it in his beerhappygrinningattheworld state)

Inside there was a note:

So, when you clamber inside, having broken your aging pelvis on the red obelisk after colliding with it after leaving the hostelry and find that they have removed the phone apparatus from within due to lack of use, you are given a phone number to call to find the nearest alternate payphone.

Thoughtful bastards, BT.

PreWalkDaunder 2010

Each year Lord Elpus and I send out invitations to a few hardy souls that we feel might benefit from a bit of an airing. The list of invitees is never the same but all have one thing in common; they have all completed the TGO Challenge at some point in their lives.

The 'PreWalkDaunder' has been running now for fourteen years. It is known as such as it is 'pre' the TGO Challenge 'Walk' and it's not designed to be a demanding testosterone fuelled hike but more a gentle bimble, a 'Daunder,' in fact. It usually takes place two to three weeks prior to the 'off' for the Challenge. It reminds all the soft and flabby body parts, in a gentle fashion, that there is work to be done.

It exercises the grey matter as well: Participants need to plan their own menu, find their own way to the gathering point and pack their rucksacks - all on their own! A fine preparation for the Challenge.

And (I know, Marian, I know...) there is usually a route strung together by the organiser that involves at least one public house. Two is better. Three is positively delirious. That way we are all fully prepared for all the rigours of the Real Event. It's two and a half days of daundering amongst fine mountain landscapes with a band of like-minded souls.

Well - the invitations have all been sent out and as is the norm with these things, most have promptly ignored it and not replied.

This is absolutely normal and is never a surprise. When was the last time you tried to organise a bunch of wild things with minds of their own (or no minds at all in some of their cases). Its like trying to count a pillow case of feathers in a wind tunnel, it is.

But they have until Valentines Day to get back to me. I shall remind them a few days beforehand, bless their cotton socks.

WINDOW DRESSING

For someone who likes a bit of order and safety, stepping out of my comfort zone is a wild and dangerous thing.

But.... I am often told that change is good. So with a deep breath and a bit of fiddling with scary computer code stuff (is that what it is called? - the techies will be able to tell you) I have managed to change how the blog looks.

I am afraid the content is exactly the same old drivel though. So - Live with it. Get Over It. Okay?

We'll see how it goes for a while. I know you don't like change either... We are in this together.