South Coast Sailing

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At the end of July, we headed down to Poole on an extremely wet Friday night, all arriving with minutes of each other, despite all being variously delayed by the traffic and weather from four different locations. We then settled into OD1, a Westerly Oceanlord 41, vast compared to Puffin, and tried to understand the constantly shifting forecast to come up with a plan.

Luckily Saturday morning dawned sunny and cloudless, but without being calm. With a forecast of higher winds on Sunday, we switched the original plans for exploring the Jurassic Coast and headed for the Solent. The sailing was good and fast, downwind with full sails, visiting both Old Harry and later the Needles (both of which I almost missed while looking at the chart). The sail up the west Solent was made entertaining by cutting through the middle of a race, requiring fast collision regulation decisions and clear helming. After a quick sail around the entrance to Cowes, we headed in to try and find a berth. Although all the marinas were full, Folly’s Inn had a pontoon for us and we made a quick (rather too fast actually) mooring for the night. Wine, Thai curry and lively games completed a great day’s sailing.

The following day started dry and calm until two minutes after I got on deck when it started raining. We made a start after stocking up on egg and bacon butties for breakfast. Once out of Cowes, we found the wind. Breezy, but without much fetch in the Solent the sailing was good, and luckily the wind stayed in the south as we headed SW. Once out of the Solent via the north passage of the Needles, the rain stopped but was replaced by the building wind and waves regularly covering us in spray. Despite the less than ideal conditions, the crew were all smiles enjoying the boat carving out its unlikely way through the wind and waves. Again the wind had yet to turn, so with a southerly breeze, we had a fast but bumpy sail back to Poole, ducking in behind Old Harry to drop the mainsail, coming into Poole under the genoa. An entertaining dance with the chain ferry (I swear it waits for you to be really close and then moves) and we entered the deserted Poole Harbour as it started to rain again. We paused to wait for the bridge to let us back to our berth then warmed up with tea and cake. An early return, but enjoyable as the sail had been, the high winds meant it was nice to be back on land. After cleaning and clearing the yacht, we had a much more pleasant drive home.

A great weekend with fantastic people, and good to sail a larger boat that was different to Puffin and her usual cruising ground (as much as I love the East coast).

Photos by Povl and Maude.

Heading out from Poole Harbour on OD1
Old Harry
Sunny sailing
The Needles
Not sunny sailing

 

Wasdale

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This one had been in the calendar for a while. When my parents retired, they decided to reset their Wainwright count (not that they had been counting) and do them all again. As they got closer to finishing, it was decided that their 214th Wainwright would be Scafell Pike, and that they would climb it on my Dad’s 70th birthday, 3rd July 2015. And so it was that 20-odd family and friends (mostly from the Castle MC) converged on Wasdale Head for a long weekend of celebration and generally having fun in the mountains.

A last-minute work trip to Finland happily managed to just avoid disrupting best-laid plans, and the yellow van picked me up from Manchester Airport en route to the Lakes. Torrential rain and traffic cleared to a wonderful drive over Ulpha Fell, and we arrived in time to join the party, who had taken over a sizeable corner of the Wasdale Head Inn (the birthplace of British climbing, as we were frequently reminded), for a drink. As usual, most people knew who I was while I had no idea who several of them were – though it was worse for Dave, who knew even fewer people, but was nevertheless immediately called on to participate in a “who’s taller” contest. The fact that around 20% of the party were called Dave didn’t help matters! We then spent a comfortable night on the green undisturbed by the relatively small number of Three Peakers (it being Thursday – more inevitably turned up later in the weekend).

Friday’s ascent of Lingmell and Scafell Pike went off without a hitch and in glorious sunshine. Summit celebrations included prosecco, ginger cake and pork pies with candles in. We descended via the Corridor Route and Lingmell Beck. Some of the party stopped to cool off in the pools of the beck, but Dave and I had bigger ideas and continued down to the valley. We had a quick change and paddled/swam down the river to Wast Water, where we managed a good 5-10 minutes of actual swimming (and very pleasant it was too, although we found that as soon as we ventured away from the river mouth it got a lot colder). Back with just enough time for showers before an excellent dinner and more cake.

A wild night (in terms of wind and rain rather than behaviour, in case that needed clarifying) ensued as the weather broke, and we spent a largely grey, damp Saturday pottering over Yewbarrow.

Sunday was much better, and we decided to get some of the driving out of the way in the morning by heading to Coniston. The van only just made it over Hardknott Pass – I think we’ll tick that one off and not bother again. There wasn’t time for any worthwhile climbing so we left the rope behind and joined up three scrambles to make a most enjoyable ascent of Brim Fell: The Bell, Low Water Beck and the crags below Brim Fell itself. Low Water Beck was the pick of the three – good rock, excellent positions alongside the tumbling falls, almost entirely dry and never too precarious. We finished the day by running over Swirl How and down Coppermines Valley, getting caught in a couple of summer showers but drying off before we got back to the van.

One of our more impressive parking spots
Not too many three peakers at this sensible time
Struggling to keep cool high over Wast Water
Having had a cooked breakfast, we hardly ate anything on the hill
One of many stops
Arguing over which rock is higher on Lingmell
Looking over towards Sty Head
Number 214
Number 214 x 2
Heading down
A steep ascent up Yewbarrow
Hot again, but cloudy and windy on top
Cooling the feet
The Pudding Stone was too good not to stand on top of (Low Water Beck beyond on the left)
Avoiding the stream
Stephanie wondering where we are taking her
Excellent rock
That’s the exposed bit over – oh wait…
Nearly at the top
High over Low Water
Up towards Brim Fell
More interesting than the motorway behind!

First Cycle Tour

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After having touring bikes for over a year, we finally found the time, weather and an interesting enough route to actually use them for touring. A quick jaunt over to Holbeach, Boston (national cycle network chaos), a campsite next to the National Bubblecar Museum (closed while we were there overnight) and back via ice cream to Woolsthorpe Manor (Newton’s birthplace) and home. We found that Jo is faster on the monotonous Fens, Dave is faster up any incline. We’ll definitely be out again once we have some more ideas of where to go.

Cake stop, at Greatford just East of the East Coast Main Line
Pode Hole: Fens, Canals, Wind and no hills
This (Fosdyke Bridge) is the closest we got to the sea – it is tidal and it has boats
Our own little section of campsite
Big sky sunset
Rainbow over the other campers
Tent, bikes and a rainbow.

Bank holiday backpacking

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The observant among you will note that we’re a little behind with our blogging – but bear with us; we’ve accumulated a few trips to write about.  First up, a little trip to Scotland over the late May bank holiday (and slightly beyond).

We started the trip with a few days by Loch Lomond to see friends and help Ruth climb her last Munro. After a warm up (very hot, humid and hazy) on the Cobbler and Beinn Narnain on Saturday, we successfully climbed Ben Lomond in increasingly wet and windy weather on the Sunday. This did mean we had the summit to ourselves (although a group of ~20 would have been enough to put everyone else off anyway), and we did get some views.  A great weekend, followed by a tasty dinner in the oldest pub in Drymen.

We had a few extra days off and an urge to do some proper wild camping (i.e. in a tent, not a van), so on Monday morning we headed to Glen Nevis for some backpacking. A late start simply meant a late finish in the long daylight, so we set off up the Glen, ascending to Sgurr Connich Beag and continuing along the Grey Corries ridge. The weather was good, with some strange wind patterns and excellent visibility below the cloud that was just covering the Aonachs and Nevis tops. Snow was abundant for the time of year, but fortunately only blocked the path on the descents (mainly East facing slopes), leaving the rocky ascending ridges clear. We made good time and got to the bealach between Stob Coire Claurigh and Stob Ban in time for dinner and a campsite.  Although windy, it was warm enough to sit in the tent with a view across to Sgurr Innse, the Loch Trieg hills, Loch Laggan and the hills beyond.

The following day we made short work of Stob Ban before a massive descent, river crossing and re-ascent south to Sgurr Elide Mor. We then nipped round to bag Binnein Beag while the cloud and rain came in. It was good to be back in the Mamores, but snow on the high ridges combined with the rain setting in and ever decreasing cloud levels meant that ascending Binnein Mor and continuing along the ridge was far less appealing than a cosy night in the van. We’ve done walking and camping in the rain without a view plenty of times before, so we headed out. A classic Morrisons breakfast while watching the rain in Fort William rounded off the trip before heading home, via a driving tour of Edinburgh.

Finally, as some of you will know (apologies to those we haven’t got round to telling yet – we’re finding it rather tricky to do in person in any sort of timely manner), we also got engaged on this trip while admiring the view from our tent.  No plans have been made yet, but we’re thinking of getting married in the autumn of 2016 – probably somewhere with mountains.  But don’t worry – we’ve no intention of letting wedding planning get in the way of adventuring!

The Cobbler
Near the summit
Beinn Narnain
Ptarmigan Ridge and Loch Lomond
Olivia and Ruth
282!
Summit mob
Escaping the wind
Ascending from Glen Nevis
Sgurr Choinnich Beag
The Grey Corries
Last summit of the day
Stob Ban and our campsite for the night
Heading for the Mamores

Scrambled Legs

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With one eye on the weather forecast, Jo managed to swap her bank holiday Monday to the Friday, so off we went on Thursday night to the Lakes. This meant we got the best weather on Friday, and the good forecast (but not the actual weather) on Saturday.  Whether or not we were net winners is a matter for debate…

Anyway, we headed to Rosthwaite for a weekend of scrambling and hopefully climbing. Friday dawned cold and clear, and with snow on the tops, we opted for a scramble rather than a climb. Langstrath is an amazing empty valley in the middle of the Lakes, and Cam Crag is a wonderful ridge onto the tops in a good surrounding. After a fun scramble, we headed on up to Glaramara and on again to Esk Pike and Bowfell. I realised I had left my water bottle at our lunch stop, so we headed back over Esk Pike to Allen Crags. Unfortunately, someone had already nicked the water bottle, so we headed back to our route, past Angle Tarn and over Rossett Pike back down into Langstrath. Not entirely surprisingly, Langstrath is quite long. It was nearly 7pm when we finally made it out, pretty knackered and both of us with sore feet, dreaming of gear shops and buying new boots.

We then spent a pleasant evening in a campsite (luxury), although it was still pretty cold to be outside.

The next day started similarly, so we went off to look at Gillercomb Crag on Grey Knotts above Seathwaite. While still walking to the start from the campsite (before 10am) I ran out of energy and required a second breakfast, despite an enormous meal the night before. We wandered up beside Sour Milk Ghyll (we decided it was too cold to go in) , did a short but enjoyable scramble on Seathwaite Upper Slabs, and were checking Gillercombe Crag and our route when it started to rain. Waterproofs on, we decided to abort, and walk around the crag. Getting closer, we decided the rain had eased enough to go for it anyway. We were half way up the obvious route, when a re-reading of the guidebook (“no route finding difficulties”) showed we had taken an alternative route but were luckily back on track. A fun and interesting scramble up an imposing crag and it started to snow as we topped out. A quick stomp in the wind round to Brandreth and Green Gable and we headed down – it just wasn’t worth the mist, wind and rain to head on up to Great Gable, which we have done in similar conditions before.

Another afternoon and night in the campsite in the pouring rain (we saw a few groups give up and leave) and we simply relaxed on Sunday as the rain didn’t let up until we were out of the Lakes driving home around 2pm.

Van in summer mode
No comment
Langstrath – Cam Crag on the right
Start of the scramble
Checking the route for the next bit – unfortunately no pictures of the good stuff!
Upper Langstrath
The top
Looking back to Rosthwaite Fell (finally bagged), Borrowdale and Derwent Water
Langdale Pikes
Glaramara – snowy and quite busy
Lots of paraponts over Great End
Zig zags from Stake Pass back into Langstrath
Seathwaite Upper Slabs in Gillercomb

Parco Nazionale Gran Paradiso

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We spent 10 days in the Alps recently, shortly after I submitted a little thesis I had been working on.

The first few days were spent in Chamonix. We bought ski boots, got excited by the amazing range of colours and outdoor kit, skied in awful weather (including rain). We also skied some great off piste, although high winds meant everyone was constricted to lower, shorter slopes. Jo and I also managed to ski a closed run by accident, and half way down, I broke a ski while side stepping up a powder embankment. The ski snapped just behind the heel and was left flapping, making side stepping in powder impossible, and skiing difficult.  I am officially not part of the social media generation as I didn’t instantly post about this, and I didn’t even get a photo. Luckily the hire shop didn’t seem surprised, and gave us more ‘robust’ kit, that was more suitable for ski touring…

Anyway, we then met with James (www.jamesthacker-mountaineering.co.uk) for some proper touring. We headed into the Benevolo hut for a night and attempted Punta Galisia, turning back as the mist rolled in and the thought of skiing in the white didn’t appeal. We then headed around to the Rifugio Vittorio Emanuele II and attempted Gran Paradiso, which we were literally blown off at around 3700m. We then had a huge traverse and descent the next day, finally finding some great powder and long descents.

Our trip into the Parco was great fun as it was covered in snow and felt very remote. Would be interesting to return in summer. It was great to be away from the crowds and on mountains again, and we got some great skiing in too.

I’ll let pictures tell the full story (more here and here), and there is a video on the way…

Skinning into the Benevolo
Exercising the legs after being stuck in Mont Blanc tunnel queue for 3 hours.
The hut at last
Day 2 – Ascending the Punta Galisia
Up the valley – up and down in undulating terrain
We’re heading for one on the left
Simon taking a breather.
Day 3: Ascent to the Vittorio Emanuele II
Day 4: Sunrise as we start the ascent of Gran Paradiso
Zig-Zags!
Good plumes of spindrift off the tops
Looking West, with shadows of Gran Paradiso and surrounding mountains
Cold, windy, spindrift – challenging but atmospheric near our high point
Looking warmer on the descent
Quick break now we’re out the wind and in the sun
The hut
Tin shed of a hut
Skins and Skis
inner boots
axes
rocks
Day 5:Traversing out
lots of drops and jumps to get over
descending from the Col du Grand Etret
Back into the woods.

Duffers in Northumberland

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A March weekend in the north east with hillwalking friends (several weeks ago now, but holidays got in the way of posting).  Most of us were coming from the London/Cambridge area, so the Scottish border seemed an ideal place to meet up.  A conspicuous lack of Pettits owing to poor timetabling may have resulted in some less-than-early starts… As well as walking in the Cheviots and near Bamburgh Castle, and catching up on everyone’s news, we enjoyed a feast (masterminded by Jane) on Saturday evening, and some of us kept the others awake by “playing” Articulate late into the night…

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Climbing or writing?

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So, as I’m in the throes of frantically finishing writing a thesis, we took a long weekend in Cairngorm.

Accommodation was in the very nice Badaguish lodges, where the best part is the lively company of ex and current British Exploring Leaders. Some three vans turned up; although we didn’t have ours this time, it was clear where the inspiration for our van came from.

Saturday had a good forecast, so we headed into Coire an t-Sneachda with Richard. Richard has a 12 week old girl and was on a rare day off so we had volunteered to take him on his first real winter climb. We haven’t climbed much recently, so thought that Spiral Gully would provide a long and easy acclimatisation for everyone. After some confusion about what other people were doing, we ended up with 4 other teams in the gully. Luckily, where other climbers saw the easy right hand variation, I saw the more interesting left hand variation. Unfortunately, part way through this interesting section the ropes decided to become unbelievably tangled. This put a stop to our overtaking manoeuvres, but did remind us of the tight rope work needed in winter to keep everything moving smoothly. By the time we escaped the knot, we threaded our way back through other teams on the route to find the direct finish was already occupied, so we were forced to take the easy way home. A couple of windy tacks east across the plateau and we escaped down the goat track for a late lunch.

Sunday started with quite a bit of lethargy. Luckily Tom was keen to do something harder, and I foolishly said I would help. Leaving everyone else to a lazy breakfast we headed into the corrie again. This time looking for either Broken Gully or Aladdin’s Mirror Direct. Deciding that short and steep would be preferred over the longer Broken Gully, we headed to the base of Aladdin’s Mirror Direct. A fun time ensued as I learnt to lead ice. Luckily Rob had provided some vital info about number of ice screws needed. He had also told us the crux was in the first section, but I found the second section more imposing, which didn’t help morale. Unfortunately, once we’d all learnt to climb ice, the pitch was over and only steep snow / spindrift was left. Amazingly, despite the forecast, we topped out into the sun – my favourite moment of any mountaineering day.

Having re-learnt how to climb and bettered our grade in the first two days, we tried to squeeze another climb in on the Monday before driving home. Unfortunately, Red Gully was already taken by another pair, and despite our attempts to overtake, we couldn’t find a belay point quick enough. A quick discussion followed where we decided that it would be better to leave it rather than follow behind a slow party, and there wasn’t too much else in the corrie that was tempting. We played in the broken ground near the goat track then headed back over the top and drove home, getting back at a sensible time for once. It was nice not to mess with ropes yet still play around with two axes, having fun in the mountains, knowing the next day we would be back chained to a desk in the middle of nowhere. The sun was also out, but not quite enough to give Jo her first few of the plateau (still waiting after six years of visits).

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The rocky road to the Elan Valley

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A weekend in mid Wales cycling and walking.

We had no idea where to go this weekend. At 3pm it looked like Norfolk, but a closer review of the weather suggested it might not rain all weekend in Wales. But as it looked like it would be cloudy on the tops, we decided to take the bikes over. Also, we had a cycling map of mid Wales and thought we ought to use it.  However, things didn’t go particularly smoothly – but what else could we expect on Friday 13th?

Half an hour later we were packed, and I was putting the bikes on the van. We then noticed that my cycle computer was missing. After half an hour of looking, we gave up. A trip to Tesco without a strict shopping list is always risky, but we managed and got away at around 6.

Driving through Melton Mowbray (only 20 mins from home), we stopped for fish and chips (our first of the year), to find the chippy packed. After some wait, we found the chips were closer to cardboard than potato, so gave up and got down to driving.

Coming through Birmingham, they have those nice big signs that tell you useful information. We were informed the A5 was closed immediately after the M42 junction that would allow us to easily go the other way. So we drove the long way round Birmingham to get on the M5 south.  Then we nearly ran out of fuel in the Borders, but managed to reach a petrol station in Bromyard just before it closed.

Eventually, after some tiny A roads, we got to Rhayader, and took our time finding the correct road out to our chosen layby, an idyllic stream-side location high up in the moors. After driving for some miles in thick fog with snow encroaching on the road, we found that our ideal layby had been converted into a building site for a new bridge. The back-up plan was a good half hour’s drive back through the fog, but was thankfully much more suitable – and in the morning we had the joyous revelation of finding a toilet block. One of our more civilised overnight stops – flat, quiet and only a few potholes to negotiate on the way in!

Anyway, it was raining in the morning, so a slow start ended with us heading off around 10 along a dirt track around Claerwen Reservoir. The cloud cleared slowly and the day got better as the track got rockier, ending in a ford across a not insignificant river. After several aborted run-up attempts through the gravel, Jo got up enough speed and got half way through before bailing and wading the rest of it. I was more successful in cycling through, but got just as wet as it was rather deep.  Soon afterwards, we gladly reached tarmac!

Wet feet aside, the descent into the Ystwyth valley was very fun with good views, starting in the middle of nowhere and gradually coming back into civilisation. At one point, a black cat darted out across the road in front of us, and shortly after Jo complained that her brakes weren’t working. Typically, I had left the Allen keys in the van, so we couldn’t fix them. Actually, I’m still trying to fix them 3 days later even with the correct tools.

Cycling up beside the Ystwyth river and through the old lead mines was fun, apart from the odd occasion where the road decided the best way wasn’t next to the gently inclined river, but up the steep valley side and back. It was very quiet though and great views, with some good information boards every few miles to add some context to the scenery.  Some chocolate rocky road (courtesy of Joe) was rather more appreciated than the literal version and powered us over the drainage divide back into the Elan valley.

Over the moors was very Scandinavian, with patches of snow and lochs (well, reservoirs). We also enjoyed the wildlife and got quite good at distinguishing red kites and buzzards. We cycled down past the three main reservoirs to arrive back at the van around 5pm. A great day out on quiet roads in some nice terrain.

Given the dodgy brakes and some very wet cycling shoes, we put the bikes away and spent Sunday climbing a beacon hill and walking along the Wales coast path near Aberystwyth. The sun was out and it was good to see the sea and snoop at Aberystwyth, although a distinct lack of ice cream vendors was noted.

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Lakes Camping January

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So it’s been a while since we went winter wild camping in the Lakes, and we thought it would be good to do again.

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The aims for the weekend were to find some snow, walk a long way over many hills and use our expensive tent, rucksacks, sleeping bags that are lying around not doing much. The van was also designed to make such wild camping trips easier, but we haven’t got around to doing this.

What we found was:
The majority of the snow had melted. There was still enough, and we did use crampons once, but not the bucketfuls I was hoping for.
The winds were much stronger than expected, from a different direction, and with heavy bags on a narrow snowy ridge, this provided much needed entertainment and some potential nasty knee problems. We were almost reduced to a crawl, which is something I haven’t done for a very long time. Luckily the knee seems to be holding up and getting better.

We did manage 12 Wainwrights near Braithwaite for those that count such things, including Grisedale Pike, Hopegill Head, Whiteside, Grasmoor, Whiteless Pike, Wandope, Eel Crag, Sail, Scar Crags, Causey Pike, Outerside, Barrow. Since we were in the cloud all weekend, I still need to do them again to get a view.

We also managed to forget about using the gas canister for a weekend in the autumn, meaning we took a nearly empty one. We just about scraped by; melting snow and getting it just hot enough for the dehydrated meals. The lack of food and drink made the night colder and longer, with an interruption by some mad mountain bikers coming nearby around 8pm. In the morning we dashed back to the van to avoid the rain and find some water. The van then came into its own by providing endless hot drinks and hot lunch and snacks, although it took me until mid Monday to get back to normal. I’ll triple check the gas next time.

Looks like we still have some things to learn about winter camping, so will give it another shot in a few years time. Maybe earlier if we use something cosier like a bothy or snowhole.