Some much needed stimulus

I joined The Fell Runners Association some years ago. I was motivated by meeting a number of members, and being impressed by their individuality and decency. If I had my life over I would be tempted to take fell running as my prime leisure activity.

The quarterly magazine arrived three days ago. This is a quality production in presentation and content, and reminds me of Melvyn Bragg’s South Bank Show: you think the subject may seem outside your interest, but start watching, and within minutes your attention is grabbed by a friendly iron fist.

Much of the mag. contains race results, and race reports, which are understandably interesting to the majority of members who run competitively, but there are many, well written articles. The overriding benefit for me is massive inspiration.

In this issue there is a story by a guy who fell in a race “417 days ago” and broke his fibula in ten places. He writes a thoughtful, and instructive account of how he first of all returned to fell running by marshalling, and describes how this has shown him the sport from an angle he was hardly aware of before. He goes on to describe how he had to accept pragmatic advice and a realistically devised training programme to achieve his objective of running again. After the “417 days” he was able to take part in the The Tour of Pendle fell race ( 16.8 miles, 4830ft of ascent).

After reading this two days ago, I got off my backside, kicked cabin fever in the teeth and went swimming, and today I have done a sixteen mile cycle ride from Kendal to Bannisdale Head and back. Being out in the wilds again was like having gas and air. I think the bike is going to feature for a while.


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Katie update:

Emailed to me by Jill - caption: "Katie tried some porridge this morning"

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Was I sleep walking?

I am battling on writing my new opus which relates anecdotes under various headings, one of which  is  “Epics”. This will include happenings that were particularly arduous, or unexpectedly eventful.

Part of the process involves me trawling back through an outdoor activities diary I kept for several years. I was surprised by reading details of a walk I did in 1991 which, by my standards, was monumental - perhaps even “epic”, but the strange thing is I have no recollection of this undertaking. At the risk of boasting here is the detail verbatim from my diary:

I had Ann and Jill follow me to a point on the minor road North West of Dockray, up from Ullswater where I left my car, and was then transported back to Kentmere where I was dropped off and started my walk.

I think I must have got away early, perhaps about 7:00 a.m. Again I am writing this from memory five years or so later. I had a good day, and ticked off the following peaks over 2,500ft. The Knowe, Harter Fell (two summits?), High Street, The Knott, Kidsty Pike, High Raise, then back over High Street to Thornthwaite Beacon, Stony Cove Pike, and down to Kirkstone. Then Red Screes, Dove Crag (2603), Hart Crag, Greatrigg Man, Fairfield, Dollywagon Pike, Nethermost Pike, and Helvellyn. I missed out Catstycam, Lower Man and Brown Cove Crags, but went on to Kepple Cove, Raise, Stybarrow Dodd, Watson's Dodd, and Great Dodd to land me back at my car.

I plotted this route with Memory Map just straight lining and it measures 27 miles with 13,562 feet of ascent. Taking into account the twists and turns of the paths the mileage would be quite a bit more. The ascent figure is staggering, and makes me wonder about Memory Map's accuracy.

Cabin Fever

The pre-op assessment took place last Tuesday and I am now awaiting an appointment. In the meantime I have not been able to go out on the bike because of inclement weather, and I am envious of my fellow outdoor bloggers who are up to all sorts of interesting escapades.

I have been pressing on with the new book which is a collection of reminiscences under various headings.

The Headings so far are:

Youth

Fear

Getting  Lost

Trespassing

Encounters

Heroes

Epics

Memorable Happenings

So far: 15,000 words and 60 pages (with photos)

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Whilst watching television during the evening I have been making a list of frequently used clichés and the like which irritate me - if anybody wants to make suggestions I will consider them for addition to the list.

The word “amazing”

Well oiled machine

Feeding frenzy

Massive (heart attack) - it would seem that the media reckons nobody has an ordinary heart attack - it is always “massive”

Journey - Here I mean celbs who may be talking about a film they have made, or a spell in rehab, or the trauma of a recent divorce etc., where they relate to having been on a ”journey” preceded by the appropriate adjective -”wonderful, “lonely”, “amazing” etc.

Age old

Unique micro climate - wherever anybody lives they always say that they have one of these.


I hope the title of this post doesn't qualify for the list.

Katie update

I know, but I couldn't resist this one.

Another Lulu self publishing project

I have started a new book using Lulu  (self publishing website - if you're interested click on the link).

The idea is to group anecdotes and thoughts I have assimilated over the years under a number of headings such as "getting lost", "fear", "trespassing" etc. and experiences and thoughts will not necessarily be restricted to outdoor activities. So far I have written 3000 words and sourced a number of photos which will be integrated with the text. My previous six books have all had the themed titles of "Conrad Walks...", so for this one I have provisionally decided on "Conrad Talks".

The knee

I now have a pre-operation appointment for 7th February, so I will get an appointment after that for the operation. In the meantime I have had a few more modest bike rides. The only consolation (for me) is that the weather has been horrible.

Christmas cheer.

My last post omitted news of daughter Jill being ambulanced to hospital (with baby Katie) at 3:30am on 22nd December with unbearable pain. The diagnosis was gall stones. Jill was was sent home. Although the pain was rapidly controlled, we ( J and K, and son William and I) did not get back home until midday after endless, waiting at the hospital.

Christmas was anxious - we were on red alert for a repeat. That occurred about midday on Saturday 7th January. A second ambulance was called and we had the same thing all over with more prolonged waiting, and Jill again being sent home. Ambulance number three was called at 5:00am the next morning (Sunday) - William attended, and I followed about 9:00 am after seeing Will’s text message when I arose. Jill was promised an ultra sound scan and we waited until 3:30pm. After my third enquiry we were told the scan would not be done until Monday, so Jill stayed with Katie, and W. and I returned home.

On monday morning (yesterday) I had an appointment at the same hospital for 10:10 am with my knee consultant. I then went to Jill who was having the scan at 11:30am. We had to wait, and wait,  being given no information until 3:30pm, when we were given the results of the scan and sent home with promise of an appointment within three weeks with the consultant, who I reckon already knows he will put Jill on the list for gall bladder removal. In the meantime we may be calling out further ambulances. I suppose this is all a middle class whinge when most people in the world have little access to medical care, but I have to say we are all weary from these events.

The Knee

The consultant has put me on his list for a replacement knee. 

Walking is uncomfortable after four hundred yards, but today I cycled locally for an hour with no  discomfort, so that is the only glimmer of light in this dreary post.

Can anybody recommend a bike suitable for camping/touring with some off-road capability?

Brain power?

The recent Royal Institution Lectures featured the brain, and posed the question “who is in control?”

Not my brain... as far as I know?

When running over rough terrain I would identify the next stone where my foot would land. As I moved through that stride I was often aware that my foot had landed in a different place without me being conscious of commanding that action. A hidden force had taken over in the last micro second having apparently calculated  a more advantageous placement.

Not my feet either - I don't think I could afford those shoes

This would leave me with an uneasy feeling, wondering where that control had originated. I  often tried to  describe this phenomenon to others, but without the expected response: “oh! It’s strange you should say that...”. Perhaps that was because I had not been sufficiently concise, but the RI Lectures set me wondering again, and I would be interested to hear any relevant comment. I would add that I recognise similar brain occurences in other situations.

So who is in control?

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Readers will know I became a granddad 11weeks ago. I’ve just watched a documentary about King George V (1865-1936) who was a fearsome, autocratic father, but otherwise (according to the documentary), an alright guy, but he became besotted and gaga with his granddaughter Elizabeth (our present queen) who he always called Lizbet. Twelve weeks ago I would have been puzzled by this apparent anomaly, but now I understand.