Season's Greetings

Christmas and New Year's greetings to my readers and thanks for  all your comments during 2014.

I've just received a card from our local MP -   I am in no way promoting this from a political standpoint other than to say this guy has been a workaholic in our region for several years contributing to many local improvements, and in particular the saving of Kendal hospital where we are now on the way to securing a radiotherapy unit, saving people a 100 mile round trip to Preston.

The outside of the card is based on a competition for local childrens' art, and it is only on the inside that there is a happy family portrait (note the typical Springer Spaniel straining to be off) contrasting starkly with the recent self publicity and strangely miserable photograph from Blair. Ok, it is easy to be cynical, but the enclosed letter, for me, sends a message of genuine caring and a will to making a difference stemming from continuous hard graft rather than glory seeking. It's a shame we haven't got more MPs with this kind of dedication, regardless of the political agenda of their party (except for UKIP and perhaps one or two others!)

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More seasonal rambling.

Ok, I'm an old fuddy-duddy and of course a grumpy old man, but I find it hard to endure seasonal parties that become disco nightmares making conversation impossible, and displaying aged contemporaries who should know better gyrating and gesticulating like crudely made automatons.

My son who is now gone forty and probably closer in time to my viewpoint than the time when he was a legitimate partaker said to me recently at one such event, "let's get out of here before they start doing the conga".

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What about the new buzz word? - redact, or should I say redact ?

I'm waiting for my first: amazing,  robust, redacted, emotional roller coaster post, which will ensure that such a thing can never happen again". If it does happen (the post, or again), "my thoughts will be with the blogger and his (or her) family". Of course I am typing this prior to my broadcast, standing outside the headquarters of ConradWalks.Blogspot.Com in lashing rain and darkness, round about midnight, wearing a fairly expensive suit protected only by a cheap umbrella lent to me by the sound recordist.

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Once again, Merry Christmas everybody.

Classic design

My Christmas policy is to do nothing until after my birthday early in December. I also admit to the arrival of winter when I awaken my Paramo Cascade waterproof/windproof trousers and jacket from their summer hibernation  - strange, are there any animals that hibernate in the summer?

Well, the birthday passed a few days ago and I did the Christmas cards and ordered a couple of pressies on line. On Wednesday evening I had need to go out to the garage and I felt like Scott trying to get to that last depot, and mindful of the Thursday walk with Pete next day I reckoned it was wakey-wakey time for the winter gear. Along with the aforementioned Paramo brand stuff, which is heading for classic status, there was one other all time favourite to be aroused which would count in my top ten list of global design classics.

In 1960, before setting off on a trip to Norway with Pete, I bought  myself a pair of Dachstein* mitts. I am not sure when this classic item first became available but they have stood the test of time in terms of practicality and durability (mine are still as functional as they were over fifty years ago).

We walked again in the vicinity of Simpson Ground (see my last post), keeping to tracks and reasonable surfaces, but there is a top of the world feeling here and we were blasted by fierce icy winds blowing themselves out after Wednesday night’s gales, and at one stage had a rare difficulty in the Lake District of finding a crossing for a swollen stream, but it was good to be out equipped with appropriate attire making the difference between hardship and smug comfort. 

Today I do the Christmas Tree.

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* Needlesports in Keswick are excellent suppliers with a good website giving advice based on their own knowledge of and participation in climbing and hill walking, beyond the usual manufacturer’s blurb. Their review and photo of Dachstein mitts tells all:

http://www.needlesports.com/Catalogue/Technical-Clothing/Hands/Wind-Resistant-Gloves-Mitts/Dachstein-Mitts-LAC-DM#.VIq3z4tA9Z8

On the way to Simpson Ground - top of the world

Gnarly hawthorne

Presumably they didn't

It's who you are with that matters

"I reckon it's getting dark."

My words after finding our sixth geocache of the day at the edge of a secret tarn in the middle of an oh, so remote primeval swamp-forest  unknown to the rest of humanity. I was jesting a little in consideration of it being well into the afternoon and it having taken us five hours to cover only four and a half miles.

My explorer companion was Bowland Climber, a regular commenter here. After we scratched, scraped and squelched our way back through the swamp-forest to more familiar territory, frequently consulting compass and GPS, we did find ourselves, yes in the dark, marching steeply down a Tarmac road overlooking Windermere, but with just enough light for a glorious flame-red sunset high up above the distant hills on the other side of the valley.

BC had not  geocached before, although he is a veteran of more long distance walks here and abroad than most trekking enthusiasts have even heard of. A lot of the terrain was challenging with tussocky swamps, dead bracken, gorse, dense fir forest and difficult route finding, enough to discourage most self proclaimed adherents of the outdoors, but not BC.

I am in my element with such challenges, but if I am with someone who is not game for it my day is ruined. Successive immersions of boots, and desperate fights through forest were greeted by BC with more and more laughter and amusement at our self inflicted discomfort, and a constant stream of interesting and largely amusing conversation was maintained throughout. BC also entered into the spirit of geocaching and I think he found four out of our tally of six.

Much of my walking has been solo, but being with someone of like mind and constant good cheer is a great pleasure.

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Please also see: BowlandClimber

Windermere below, and distant Old Man of Coniston and Dow Crag

Zoom to Dow Crag

Simpson Ground tarn

Location of one geocache. This was in the middle of a thick forest with no paths within several hundred yards in any direction. We reckon it was built before the trees were planted - it involved a hard fight to get there

Close to the above shelter and what geocachers refer to as "ground zero" for a cache

Science fiction mossy stuff on boulder shown in previous photo

Simpson Ground tarn looking back to location for taking earlier panorama photo

This is the final primeval tarn which, but for its geocache, may never have been previously visited by humans. Note, the reflected tree is growing in the middle of the tarn

Maps don't tell the whole story

Blonde Two's last post talks of gorse problems; I have had my own.

It seemed like a good idea at the time (2002).

Lurgh Mhor and Bidein a'Choire Sheasgaich (Lurgh Mhor is often mentioned as one of the most remote Munros)

SMC guide to the Munros, "...there is very much the feeling of a real expedition to climb them, some may prefer to take two days..."

By my route the distance was about 18 miles there and back of very strenuous hill walking.

The conventional route started by crossing the railway near Gerry's Hostel (where I later stayed on my LEJOG walk).

I had looked at the map and also viewed the river from the road just to the east of Achnashellach station and it looked shallow. I took trainers to wade across the river thereby saving myself about six kilometres there and back on the track starting near Gerry's hostel.

From memory, the climb over the fence or whatever to cross the railway was not easy. Next I found myself in total swamp often up to my knees, but boots were being carried so remained dry. The river was waded fairly easily, but the far bank was guarded by solid gorse over six feet high and twenty or thirty feet deep. I hid my trainers and had no alternative but to force my way through that gorse which was very close to impossible. Sweating and shredded I was faced with climbing a deer fence (they are about ten feet in height), into a wood. The wood was strewn with felled trees and thick undergrowth, the trees having being felled at right angles to my direction of travel necessitating climbing over and negotiating the mass of twisted branches, brambles, hidden holes and other evil ankle twisting horrors. Another deer fence was conquered to land me on the track of the conventional route. That was a distance of about half a kilometre from the car, but the worst half kilometre I can ever remember.

The rest of that day was brilliant, but on the way back descending steeply a few hundred yards from the point where I had gained the track from the second deer fence my knee suddenly suffered the most excruciating pain. I was staying with the caravan at Kinlochewe and the previous day I had by some strange prescience bought a single walking pole at a small outdoor shop there which has since closed. Why I bought that pole I have no idea - I had scorned them in the past and seemed to have no reason for the purchase, but it it turned out to be a lifesaver.

I think that was the start of my knee problems which resulted in several arthroscopies and replacement knee surgery in May 2012.

Of course I had to re-negotiate the obstacle course providing a final challenge for a very long day.

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The thick brown dash/dot line is part of my LEJOG route from 2008 - the tent symbol indicates a night stop at Gerry's hostel

Orange goes pink

I am now wearing black stockings.

The nurse (I didn't ask if she wears them) said I can dispense with them in summer if I am walking and wearing shorts - that's a good job - some observers may get over excited otherwise.

This compression hosiery will apparently reduce the risk of DVT - let's hope so. 

The wound on my shin is improving and I am walking some miles again, modestly. Pete's arthritis is showing signs of gradual improvement with the shed load of pills he takes daily. I feel I could walk more, but I don't want to risk aggravation and I will see how things are going after I see the nurse again next Thursday.

Here are a few photos from our two last Thursdays around Witherslack and the Winster valley.

Old yew tree and Witherslack church

Well, I have gone on and on about hairy-orange-string.  Perhaps we have a  refined lady farmer in the Winster valley?

Strange building, excessively windowed, in grounds of large conventional country house - cheap roofing-felt roof. Any ideas anybody?

Witherslack Hall. The special-needs school where daughter High Horse was recently made redundant.
Whitbarrow on the skyline

Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day was doubly poignant. My brother (18 months younger than me) has Altzheimers and he has been moved from a home in Leeming Bar to a hospital in Scarborough.

With daughter, High Horse, and granddaughter Katie, just gone three years old, we made the round trip of 330 miles setting off at 10:00 am and getting back home at 8:00 pm and all for a half hour visit with my brother. Although Nick recognises us it is impossible to have meaningful conversation, but he seemed fairly cheerful and pleased to see us, and the staff were kind and seem to be looking after Nick as well as is possible.

We did reflect at the eleventh hour as we were driving across Bowes Moor and a little later had a break at the Sutton Bank National Park Centre.

After leaving the hospital I was asked to drive along the sea front at Scarborough for Katie to see the sea, then I continued to follow sat-nav instructions. I quickly realised that sat-nav was now taking us home via York and Leeds because we had diverted from our inward route over Bowes Moor. Although I knew this was not the best plan I just went with it and that was a mistake leading to all the usual M62 start stop frustration.

Another World War reference came to mind - The Longest Day.

At Sutton Bank visitor centre

What are the odds?

Amidst all the frustration of my leg wound healing, oh so slowly, I have had a free health check with my gp’s nurse.

Prior to getting the results, and considering the mountains and lakes of cheese, red wine and cakey sweetie confections I consume Imagination tortured me convincing that at least diabetes would be diagnosed, along with cholesterol off the top of the graph, and perhaps something else Imagination had failed to anticipate. 

In the past, Imagination was so good at creating the “what if…” scenario I was invariably second on the rope as a rock climber and rarely the leader.

Everything was fine, so nurse said? I don’t understand these things and work on the principle that the less I know the better. Amongst stuff about blood sugars, and a resting heart rate of 54 I was told there is good and bad cholesterol and my good outweighs the bad.

Nurse put all the stats into some sophisticated number crunching software, even asking me to confirm that my country of birth was the UK, which seemed to be the largest influencing factor.

I was told the national average chance of having a “cardio vascular event”for a 74 year old, within the next ten years was 26%, and mine came out at 23% .

With my ignorance of things scientific I am now not sure whether to laugh or cry.