The Big Black Mountain Challenge

There are ideas, and then there are 'ideas'. There are silly ideas, like deciding to get on a train to Penzance one day on a whim and riding from Lands End to John O'Groats; there are stupid ideas, like going off for a ride one afternoon in Northern Californian bear country with no food or water, no map, no idea where you're going and without telling anyone; there are dangerous ideas, like riding up Snowdon in the dark at 4am on a February morning wearing lycra in a snow storm; and then there are those ideas which are just wrong. There's no excuse for them, they're just wrong.

The Big Black Mountain Challenge on Saturday was one such idea. It started off badly and just got worse. I knew it was a stupid idea - having cracked a rib just 6 days before at round 2 of the BMBS in Dalby Forest, the idea of walking 45km over the Black Mountains in South Wales probably wouldn't be high on many peoples list of convalescing activities. But there's a bigger picture to think of here, namely The Great TO DO.

So Tony and I set off on our epic walk at 8am Saturday morning. It started raining. Then it started raining harder. Then the wind picked up. Then the wind almost picked me up! Walking along the first ridge out of Llanthony was made difficult by the 60mph wind and miserable due to the torrential rain. 4 hours later the rain finally stopped - for half an hour, just enough time to dry out before the rain came again. And the wind picked up.

The day continued in this cycle of misery for nine and a half hours until with sore feet, knee pain and an aching rib it finally came to an end. I can't remember ever walking in such horrendous conditions for so long. It really was an epic day and with the exception of Tony's witty tales, comments and then hysterical laughter (see video), not one I particularly enjoyed. But it was a necessary evil for the task ahead. On The Great TO DO I'd have 5 more days of this (well, the mileage, hopefully not the weather. Please God, NOT the weather!)

It was a useful exercise though and I learnt a few important things - one such lesson is that if you have a cracked rib and try and walk 45km up and down the muddy Welsh Mountains in the pouring rain and highs winds carrying a heavy rucksack, it's going to hurt. More importantly though, is it's going to hurt more the following day. But at least I had a whole day free and lots of 8 week old Bernese Mountain Dog pups to cuddle to cheer me up.

If you want to see some great photos of this epic, or a video of just how bad it was, take a look at Tony's blog - Tales From The Rock. Oh, and feel free to buy one of the 178 miles of The Great TO DO (if you want to know more, you'll have to use the link to visit the web page - it's worth it though!)

Happy (Belated) St David's Day!

Okay, so I'm a week late, but due to my cultural ignorance (and the fact there aren't hundreds of Welsh people pub crawling around London on their national day unlike SOME nationalities, thank god) I wouldn't have realised if it hadn't been for a jovial young walker shouting it to me across a windy hillside last weekend.

I'd decided to pop down to the Crickhowell Walking Festival to drop off some leaflets for the Slick 'n Knobbly Cycling Festival. A three hour drive on a Sunday morning after a night shift is never a brilliant idea but I arrived in the morning sunshine feeling rather spritely. My target for the day was Pen Cerrig-calch at a mere 701m, dropping down back to Crickhowell via Table Mountain. Every time I've been to Glanusk Estate I've seen the Darren Crag looming high on the hillside and I couldn't resist it any longer - I was there, it was there. Why not?

I decided on the indirect route starting at the Information Centre heading out west on the Beacons Way, then going off track turning straight up the hill to the west of the rocky out crop and skirting round to the saddle to join up with the path again. The ponies on the ridge were a nice surprise. The wind wasn't, nor was the exposure. Even though the sun was shining and the sky was blue, snow still lay in hollows on the northern slopes and the biting wind reminded me it was still only March.

Finally I reached the trig point and time for a quick self-timed snap. Then a sharp exit south east to get out of the wind, heading straight for Table Mountain with Sugar Loaf as the oh so familiar landmark in the distance (that one's for another day). Three hours and 8 miles or so later I was back in town, content with my first solo jaunt into the hills in many years. I need to do some more of that. Excellent training for my Summer epic on Offa's Dyke with Tony though - can't wait!

Monday was similar with a gentle 4 mile wander on one of the Festival's organised walks around Grwyne Fawr reservoir with another 20 or so walkers. For £4 we had a guided walk up along one of the old railway lines to the dam and back down the other side, with a brief history lesson at the start about the navvys who lived in the temporary village, the railway lines and the building of the dam. All making for a rather pleasant Monday.

More photos available on my flickr page.

Jambo! Mambo!

Finally back from my adventures in Africa and many a tale of success to tell. February really has been a fantastic month. It was great to ride up in Todmorden again with all the friendly old familiar faces, share a beer and generally catch up without having to type at 100wpm! Chipps's 40th birthday ride was slow and relaxed, as was expected, and made all the better for his sisters homemade coconut ice - I haven't had that since I was a child!

The cold, crisp weather highlighted the hills in all their Calderdale glory. It also meant I was freezing and the ambling pace was hardly sweat inducing. I managed a quick coffee for a final few chats before having to drive home Saturday night to catch the plane Sunday morning - I have to say leaving was quite hard. I just don't get to ride with those guys enough any more and I see CG (G as in Chris) about twice a year if I'm lucky.

But there's no better excuse to leave a group of your best mates in the whole wide world having fun and getting drunk gearing up for a hell of a session, than catching a flight to Africa to fulfill a life long ambition; as excuses go, I reckon it's a valid one.

And so to the big story: actually you'll have to wait for that as I've got hundreds of photos to sort through and the garbled ramblings of a daily hand written diary to decipher. It'll all be up on the adventures page very soon. Needless to say, it was ace! Here's a summit day taster:

Zippededoodah!

Having such a busy week ahead really kicked me into gear. I got everything done that I needed to on Thursday and Friday - taxis booked, paperwork sorted, final bits of shopping done, I've got all the essentials I need now; I can't imagine the next time I'll walk into a chemist and ask "do these diarrhoea tablets come in larger packs?" I usually end up leaving this stuff to the last minute and it's a mad panic at the end, but I'm actually ahead of the game now. As my secondary school tutor once said (Mr Pickles, not the other idiot), "if you want something done, ask a busy person." Never a truer word said.

Then to the weekend. I couldn't possibly have asked for three such perfect days! An early start saturday morning in glorious sunshine with clear blue skies saw Tony, Jim, Me and Newbie Dale set off on yet another section of Offa's Dyke. This time it was the 15 mile stretch between Hay-on-Wye and Kington (aka Tony's house, and the 15 miles was actually the estimation straight to Tony's door, rather than a town down the road...)

Jim had packed his spare sense of humour but we didn't need it this time. He steered clear of the Coins of Doom (chocolate coins) which he blamed for his bad mood swing last time, and stocked up on Tangfastics instead. We decided to ply Newbie with Coins of Doom instead and restrict the antedote, to see if they had the same affect. They didn't. It's just Jim. Newbie got his comeupence on the last stretch over the moor. It was fairly boggy in places and Tony and I were slightly ahead of the other two and walked around a large section of bog. Jim and Newbie approached and started to walk round as well, after a few feet I shouted to Dale "It's alright there." Actually having no idea whether it was or not, but just curious to see if he'd fall for it? Thinking that because I'd only met him that day and therefore wouldn't possibly be so cheeky to lie to him about it, he stepped ankle deep into the bog. He just doesn't know me at all...
Another superb 6.5hours of walking and the weather was just silly for this time of year. Can't wait for the next one!

Straight on up north Saturday night and another frosty, crisp, stunning morning on Sunday. The cold didn't help my poor, tight hamstrings and I hoped they'd loosen up after a few miles. Hours later they did loosen up, and then died. Maybe a 100km road ride wasn't a great idea after a long day walking. By the time I'd come to this conclusion though it was too late and I was already at the furthest point. No way out now.

Many, many, many miles later (50 ish) and my GPS was saying only 20km to the end of the route. Hurray! It was getting dark, I was very hungry, out of water, my legs were like lead and it was getting cold, but I can manage that. Sadly, I'd done a 'Tony' - it was 20km to where the end of the route meets up with part of the first section, the hotel was further away...

Oh dear. Another sense of humour failure, from my riding partner. It probably wasn't the right time to tell them that the batteries on my GPS were dying. Must ride faster. And even though the setting sun did signify impending doom (hypothermia, dangerous roads with no lights, increased possibility of getting lost), it was really pretty! See, there's always a silver lining!

A beautiful forest walk today and then home to prepare for the next leg of my journey. If the rest of February is as amazing as the last few days, I'm in for a real treat!

Old Friends, New Aches

So with a hectic and exhausting Christmas and New Year behind me it was time to go and relax and do those things I enjoy. Sadly Friday was a total wash out with torrential rain all day, ruining my plans for any kind of ride in Herefordshire. I hoped the weather would improve on Saturday ready for my annual walk with an old friend.

Many years ago in Ludlow my running partner introduced me to one of his work colleagues, Tony Collier. Days later the three of us were on the summit of Mont Blanc - an event which kick started what we all consider to be one of the best three weeks of our lives. Then I went off to university and didn't see much of them. Life changed for everybody, a lot!

But I somehow managed to stay in touch with Tony and once a year we combine our busy lives and pop out for a mountain walk. I use the phrase 'pop out' at its most ironic. These are rarely walks in the park and usually turn into epics; Saturday was no different.

A beautiful crisp morning with a dusting of snow on the hills greeted us. The plan was to walk a 15 mile stretch of the Offa's Dyke Trail from Knighton to Kington (a practice for something even more epic Tony has planned for next year. Eek!) Straight up the hill out of the valley and onto the tops. Progress was slow with endless styles to cross - made all the more difficult due to Tony still recovering from a severe arm injury last September.

Now, on a bike, I wouldn't even blink at the thought of a 15 mile ride, everything changes on foot though! 7 hours later, darkness drawing in, a few spots of rain in the air, concentration waning and senses-of-humour failed (if anybody finds a sense of humour up on the totally pointless mile long dog leg round the field on the Path just outside Kington, could they return it to Jim please?) we were faced with Tony's minor miscalculation - it was indeed 15 miles from Knighton to Kington. However, Tony lives 4 miles outside of Kington...

TONY'S PLAN A: Walk up and down the really, really steep hill and down the other side, in the slippy mud, in the dark, with no map, the 1.5miles to Tony's house.
JIM'S PLAN B: Walk the 4 miles along the very dangerous, fast stretch of main road, wearing all black clothing.
Obviously, being the hardy outdoor adventurous types that we are - Tony and Jim are ex-army - we cunningly came up with another plan.
PLAN C: Phone Tony's daughter Beth to come and pick us up from Kington in the car. Problem solved! Minutes later, cup of tea and cake in hand, we were regaling Beth with the tales and photos of the last 7 hours and already planning the next, longer walk.

Some photos to follow soon; I'm still recovering, I mean, er, I'm too busy, tending my blisters... Hardcore me, hardcore!