The old enemy......blisters!

Now, I know everyone is different, height, weight, colour, creed, sex, physical ability and what's good for one person is not necessarily good for another. This is born out from looking into a prevention method from getting blisters on my feet. There are many videos on YouTube from people who have their own tried and trusted methods in the prevention, management and cure of the dreaded blister. There are many forums, some serious, some less so, which also offer advice to the poor victim of these inflictions.
It appears that the main foot blister that people suffer from is on the heel which is caused by friction rubs from ill fitting boots, trust me to be different and continually get blisters on the ball of my foot, or to be more accurate, both feet. Now my boots fit quite snugly, no heel rub, no chafing so it can only be friction from movement between the ball of my foot, the sock and the inner of the boot. So, on seeing a lining sock that offered two layers of material 'to prevent friction' and guaranteed a blister free walking experience, I hastily handed over the best part of £10. Well, I've worn them twice and both times I've got blisters.
This led me to search the Internet to see if there was another way of preventing the aforementioned balls of pus. These were many and varied, one in particular I found on an Army forum which suggested that you should pee in your boots to soften them up, not sure if that's while you're walking in them, or just in general, needless to say, I won't be trying that one.
Going to try a different lining sock on the next walk to see how that goes and change them about halfway round with another pair of the same type, but dryer, as a wet sock can cause friction too.
In my case, I think that the skin on the soles of my feet needs toughening up too and it was suggested that white spirit rubbed on the affected area daily will dry the skin and make them tougher. Again, think I'll give that a miss too. I'll give the new socks a couple of go's and see how they go. As a last resort on days of long walks and even on the day of our challenge, I'll tape my feet with Zinc Oxide tape or duct tape.

I'm not going to be beaten by a few blisters.........or am I?

Chris

Kinder Surprise.

From the deep and distant past I seem to remember being here before. All I recall is a strange landscape that I wasn’t expecting at the top of a steep climb, not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Wednesday 25th July 2012.

The new Sat Nav app on the phone got us straight to Edale in Derbyshire without a single wrong turning, which is good for me as I have a habit of….let’s call it…’a momentary loss of direction’, it’s not lost, just a temporary state of not being where you should be. More of that later.

Adrian was already in the car park when Matt and I arrived and after a quick drive around Edale (it was quick) we decided to use the first car park we met in as there seemed to be a distinct lack of car parking anywhere else! Everyone had remembered to bring boots this time. So we set off through Edale and past the Old Nag’s Head pub which is considered to be the start of the Pennine Way and on our way to Grindsbrook. Weather wise, we were in the middle of summer…..an English summer, so anything from a full blown blizzard to glorious sunshine could be expected. The forecast said 18 degrees max with potential light showers in the afternoon, so we packed suntan lotion and waterproofs.

The ascent was quite varied with fairly level paths leading to steep scrambles over rocks and boulders nearer the top, we followed the Grinds Brook until we arrived at the top. It took a while, with a few…can…I….get….my….breath……back stops we made it, that should be the hardest climb out of the way and it was.

Looking back over Grinds brook.

Getting nearer the top of Grinds brook.

Weather watch so far, sunny with cloudy bits. The higher we got the clouds looked more threatening, or was that just closer! After a brief rest, we set off in the direction of Crowden Tower which was along the edge of Kinder Scout so we were greeted with excellent views over the High Peak district. As we arrived at Crowden Tower, Adrian asked Matt to show him how to walk on a compass bearing. ‘Why do you want to know that now?’ asked Matt. ‘In case the cloud comes down and we can’t see anything’ replied Adrian. Reasonable request we thought, so Matt showed him and then we carried on walking over the plateau of Kinder Scout towards Kinder Downfall. Now either Adrian had inside information, or he has ‘magical powers’, but the cloud came down rapidly until we could only see about 15-20 yards in front of us.

Now, those of you that have had the pleasure of being on the top of Kinder Scout will know that it is a large plateau covered with peat. When the rain comes down areas of the peat become boggy, almost liquid in places, so walking across in low visibility (on a compass bearing) was always going to be fun. And it was. There were several areas where access was blocked by deep looking boggy areas, so we would go around and try to stay on the compass bearing, but being mature adults we spent most of the time curled up laughing as each other sank into different depths of the bog. Adrian surpassed our feeble efforts by managing to get stuck up to his knees as he jumped across an innocent looking section of peat. So, with the many diversions, distractions and dunkings it took a while to get back on ‘solid’ land. We picked up the river leading to Kinder Downfall.

It was the peat on Kinder that I remembered from years ago and how it just looked surreal against some of the rock outcrops. I’m sure it’s amazing when covered in snow.

Sheep lie in wait for their next victim with Kinder Reservoir in the background.

We arrived at Kinder Downfall at around 12.30, so we decided to stop for something to eat and dry our boots, feet, knees !! The cloud cover had now lifted and it was a glorious site looking over Kinder reservoir and the surrounding countryside. During our break, I noticed that there was another side to the peat, it stinks. I couldn’t make out where the smell was coming from, or who, but I kept getting wiffs of it. Could have been the stuff caked around my boots or the lovely black stuff dripping from Adrian’s legs, maybe even the large smelly looking sheep who were beginning to assemble (do they hunt in packs?).

Moving on, we headed on the Pennine Way towards Jacob’s Ladder, stopping off at the Trig point at 633metres. Now, as I mentioned earlier about having ‘a momentary loss of direction’, all was going well so far, until we left the Trig point. We followed the path and for some reason we ended up in a place that we hadn’t intended to be in. Some people might call that lost, but they’d be wrong. Following us down what seemed the steepest staircase in the world was the Kinder Mountain rescue boys. When I say boys I really mean elder statesmen. Not wanting to sound as though we were temporarily in the wrong location, certain subtle questions were asked, like ‘where are you going?’ and ‘where’s Edale?’ After a bit of bluffing that we knew what we doing we headed off in the direction of Edale. A slight miscalculation had added another 5km onto the journey, not the end of the world, but probably the beginning of some blisters (I’ll leave that for another blog).

After a while we picked up the Pennine Way again and arrived at Jacob’s Ladder. This had a significance to me as it is the title of a Rush track (my fave band) on the album Permanent Waves and I had the tune in my head from there until Edale. Jacob’s ladder was a bit of a slog and I was glad that I was going down, as opposed to the poor souls struggling their way up.

Following the Pennine Way we made our way to Upper Booth and then onwards towards Edale. The weather had been excellent, with Matt and myself suffering a bit of sunburn and Adrian using peat to prevent his legs from burning. It was a very varied walk with many different terrains to tackle and one I’d like to do again, maybe in winter.

Chris.

Skye.

As you may be aware, The Northern Division (Ian and I) have been kicking around in the great the outdoors for quite some time now, and while Northumberland is the best place on Earth (obviously because we live there), we do like to explore other places, especially ones with mountains. This has resulted in a few trips beyond our borders (Norway twice, Italy and Spain) but more often than not, we end up in Scotland, at least 4 or 5 times a year, and we try to make a special effort to visit the Isle of Skye. So this year was no different, and during early July, we made the 8 hour journey to the land of the Black Cuillins. Normally we stay at a Youth Hostel in Glen Brittle, but last year we discovered a new bunk house in Carbost. It doesn't possess the same spirit as the YH, but it does have a pub!
So, pretty much travelling all day on the Sunday (Ian did the driving as usual), with a stop off in Calendar for lunch,  finally arriving at our digs by about 19:00. A few jars and in the scratchers by midnight ready for an early start on Monday.
DAY1: Monday arrived swathed in mist, not look particularly appetizing, with the upper half of the Cuillins completely obliterated. Bugger. BUT, not to be put off, we thought let's have a go anyway. But what did you do (I don't hear you cry). Our first day was going to be devoted to a grade 4 scramble called Clach Glas, finishing off by getting onto the summit of a mountain called Blaven. To cut a long story short, it was bloody hard work! The exposure was quite extreme, with knife edge ridges, very steep chimneys, huge drops, and amazing views of the rest of the island. Unfortunately the guide book didn't really explain how much down climbing was involved (I hate  down climbing), but Ian saved the day with excellent route finding and some really good lead work. All in all, highest point was about 900 metres but with all the up and down, it was probably a total ascent of 1300 metres over about 8 miles, although it felt a lot further. A cracking day, with minimum rain and back to the digs for 19:00 ish.
DAY2: One of our major goals for this trip was to finally get on to The Cioch. This is a peculiar rock projection that sticks out of the side of the Cuillin ridge, and if you have seen Highlander, its where the major sword fight takes place in the early part of the film. Anyway, we had tried twice previously and were defeated by the weather. And this time was no exception. We started off by entering the Lagan Corrie then working our way into up the right hand side below the Cioch, which takes you up a particularly "lumpy" route (piles of boulders up to 3 metres across, plenty of loose scree, not dry and quite steep). Anyway, the mist came down, over heavily, completely obliterating any land marks, so which just continued up to the top of Sgurr Scumain, where upon it decided to clear.  Gutted, but not down hearted we dropped down the opposite side to a high level lochan (a lake) at 600 metres. From here we worked our way down over massive, wet volcanic slabs that have to be seen to be believed. From here it was about another 400 metres descent back down to the coast, and a pretty lengthy walk around the bottom of the mountain back to our starting at Glen brittle camp site. The walk was completed by a nap on the beach with a bottle of Cidre - not cider!

Surrey Scumain.

DAY3: Bit of a day off this one, bit of wandering around, went on a glass bottom boat trip, followed by snorkelling (we had our wet suits) from the coral beach the place name escapes me. And yes, its called the coral beach because the sand isn't sand at all, its broken down coral, and you can pick up recognisable bits if you look hard enough. A nice easy day, and the weather was pretty good.

Scree slope descent.

DAY4: I shall spare you the gory details but we did another excellent grade 3 scramble called Waterpipe Gulley. Not particularly high at about 700 metres, but fantastic easy climbing punctuated by large grass ledges. We had our bait (that's snap if you are from the Midlands) on the very top then descended about 200 metres down a very steep scree gulley, which was fun in a demented sort of way. After getting onto safer ground we then had a bit of a sit down in a fabulous ampithetre surrounded by mountainous peaks, and from here worked our way back down to the Fairy Pools which are filled with the mountain water run off. Overall there was probably the best part of 50 people or more enjoying jumping off the rocks into the pools and just generally having a great time in the sun (it was about 25 degree C). With about 2km left to go, Ian went over on his ankle, and it was so severe the way it instantly swelled up I thought he had broken something. But after a short rest and a couple of Nurofen he managed to hobble the rest of way, relying heavily on his walking poles. But even being injured, he insisted that we finished the day off with some more snorkeling. That night we had a meal in the pub, while some local guitar gadgey played Janice Joplin and the such like. We then decided there was no point in staying for the last day (Friday) as Ian's ankle was just too bad, and any normal man would have been in intensive care (so he said anyway).

Waterpipe Gulley

DAY5: A steady 8 hour drive back to Northumberland, getting home around 18:00. What a brilliant week we had. Looking forward to next adventure already.

Robin

Holidays and that!

Well it's been a while, couple of months in fact. We're still here and still looking forward to the 3 Peaks Challenge in October, so we need to get some more walking done prior to the big day. For me the past two months have been taken up with a holiday, work and a bathroom replacement, followed by watching Euro 2012 and Wimbledon. I could have gone mountain walking on holiday, but figured I was on holiday and the 32 degree heat I would be walking in wasn't my idea of fun, so I laid on the beach with a cold drink. Euro 2012 was a disappointment as an England fan, but we're used to it by now, the ups and (mainly) downs of supporting a team that promises so much only to shoot themselves in the foot, usually from the penalty spot, certainly isn't easy. Wimbledon was close run thing for a certain Mr Murray, but as they say, form is temporary, class is permanent and Federer is class, apart from the stupid headband! Next walk planned is Kinder Scout in Derbyshire and judging by the way the weather is lately, it's going to be a wet one, dry one, overcast, sunny, bleak, gorgeous type of day. Being prepared for the worst is the best plan, it's just walking around in a downpour with sunglasses on isn't a good look and neither is being soaked and things starting to rub and chafe! Most of the walking gear I will be taking on the day of the challenge is now in my possession, with the last item I bought being an hydration bag for my rucksack so I can replenish lost fluids on the go instead of having to faff about trying to find my bottle of water amongst all the other kit I will be I will be carrying. My wife said it looked like an oxygen tube, which might not be too far off the truth come the day. So now the garage is getting back to being clear again after having a bathroom suite in it, I can get back on the treadmill....if only I knew how to switch it on! Chris

Here be Dragons.

Snowdon, 19^th May 2012.

North East meets East Midlands in the West! The Northern Division (Ian and Robin) travelled to Wales on Friday evening, to be met on Saturday morning by two members of the Midland contingent (Joe and Myself) with the aim of climbing Snowdon. That was the plan anyway. Didn’t quite go as simple as that due to a full car park at Pen y pass and a general lack of mobile network coverage, which meant that after an hour of waiting, Joe and myself set off along the Pyg track, hoping Ian and Robin would catch us up, which on fitness levels wouldn’t be too hard.

Having never walked up a mountain before this was going to be a real test for Joe and I, which should really give us an idea of how difficult this whole challenge was going to be, if it was going to take us 4 hours just to get up Snowdon, then there was a lot of training to get in.

View from the Pyg track towards Llanberis

So, about 15 minutes into our trek, we got a phone call from Robin saying they had trouble parking and would meet us at the summit. At least we were in the same area! Onward we trod. At about 2000 feet (I’m guessing here) we hit low cloud and mist, making it difficult to see any of the views which was a big disappointment seeing as we were bristling with cameras. Trekking on, the visibility got worse and in some places you could only see a few feet in front.

Visibility poor, crazy sheep on a rock ledge...nutters!!

The amount of people walking on Snowdon was amazing, in some places it became congested (usually the nasty slippery narrow bits) so we had to use some fancy footwork to get past the slower ones and in turn, the faster ones passed us. The going got tougher, taking it’s toll on us and thoughts of ‘who’s great idea was this?’ , ‘what have I gotten us in to’ and ‘how much further do we have to go?’ went through my mind. Seeing as it was me with the daft ideas, it was better that I kept my thoughts to myself. After a few hundred short ‘ get your breath back’ stops we finally reached the summit. It was a great feeling knowing that we had made it to the top, despite the fact that we couldn’t see anything. After a quick refuel in the visitor centre, we called Robin, who told us he’d be there in 30 minutes, which was good, because I reckoned it would take that long for my legs to stop feeling like jelly.

It's all downhill from here kiddo!

The Northern Division arrived via Crib Goch (the hard way) and after introductions, a brief review of the morning’s events so far, a refuel and a fair amount of piss taking, we headed back down. Following the Pyg track until it met with the Miners track and then down towards Glaslyn (Tarn) where we stopped for a photo opportunity against a wonderful view of the mist. We had done all of the hard descent part and now it was a case of a fairly leisurely walk without too many slopes to Llyn Llydaw (Bigger Tarn). It wasn’t long before we arrived back at the car park at Pen y pass.

It's amazing what comes out of the mist.

So, how did we do time wise I hear you ask…..you did ask didn’t you? On the ascent (that’s the up bit) it took us 2 hours 14 minutes, which I’m pretty pleased with as it means that we’d be able to complete Snowdon in the time required with a little bit more fitness. The descent (the down bit) was 1 hour 57 minutes.  We have to bear in mind that by the time we get to Snowdon, we’ll have already done something similar in Scotland and England, so still lots of fitness work to do yet.

Thanks to Ian, Robin and Joe for a great day (despite my negative thoughts), I now know the enormity of the challenge ahead. Onwards and upwards.

Chris

Tales of Ye Olde Mam Tor

9th May 2012 

T’was a cool morn when the intrepid duo arrived in search of adventure. Tales of the gallant deeds of this day will echo throughout the years and the names of Sir Joe and Sir Chris will become legends amongst those that hear of these stories. Alighting their trusty steed at the Crushing Circle they moved swiftly to the foot of the beast that is…..Mam Tor.

Crushing Circle

Following the well trodden path, our courageous pair strode out purposely through mud and water to eventually appear at Hollins Cross on the Great Spine. After much joviality and slapping of backs at the conquering of the first hill it was time to move on to steeper adventure in the form of Back Tor and Lose Hill. It was at Lose Hill where our brave duo encountered fellow thrill seekers who were intent on claiming the glory of the day, buoyed by their early successes our goodly Knights set about the foolhardy opponents and smote them until their number were gone. Hurrah!!

Fresh from victory and much more back slapping the plucky pair turned to retrace their steps to Hollins Cross and looking ahead to the monster of Mam Tor. In what seemed like an age they arrived at the summit of Mam Tor with need of refreshment. Much bread was eaten and much mead was drunk at this time until their bellies were full.

What sorcery was this!!! Winged beasts landing atop the Tor, like Bees around a honeypot they buzzed around. This puzzled our goodly Knights, were these demons of the sky, devils about spread evil doings across our green and pleasant land? What could they do, but wait until the demons landed and with all their strength they smote every last one of them as they came to earth. Much back slapping ensued. Hurrah!

The winged demons.

A quick descent from Mam Tor bought our brave heroes to the foot of the Lords Seat, a truly magnificent sight. After much effort and toil they reached the summit to look out over all that they had conquered previously.  

The view from Lord's Seat.

With the storm clouds gathering, they decided to return to their trusty steed before they were soaked to the skin. Back over Mam Tor and down to the Crushing Circle the heavens opened. Our brave Knights sought refuge from the rain and came across a cave. Fearing it to be the home of more evil, courageous Sir Joe entered to smite any beasts. Unfortunately, there were no beasts to be smote. No back slapping was to be had.

Brave Sir Joe and the cave.

The rain had now passed and the goodly Knights returned to their trusty steed, taking more bread, mead and with a hearty back slap they departed the scene of their victories.

Chris

A word from T'up North.

 Bizzle Burn, 5th May 2012

Northumberland! Have you ever been?

After having lived here since 1987, thanks to a conversation I had with Ian " Guru" Cobb (while working on shift at 02:00 in the morning, about 2004,possibly a Wednesday, I think the wind was from the SW?), I was given the opportunity to sample the outdoor delights that this county has to offer.

Ian has been climbing and mountaineering for some considerable time now, while I, the Johnny come lately, only started the outdoor lark when I was just turning 40 (mid life crisis?). So, when the opportunity arises to broaden someone else's horizons, I consider it to be a privilege to be able to give something back. I didn't know one end of my compass from the other when first starting out all those years ago, but I was fortunately tutored (and kept out of bother) by T'Cobbster. 

Bearing all that in mind, a work colleague of mine and acquaintance of Ian, Rob "Chuck" Norris, had been duly nominated to accompany us on days out, when available. So, a glorious Saturday morning, a late start (out of the house for 08:45 - a certain amount of socialising involving beer spillage had taken place the night before) and away we went. After picking Rob and Ian up, we proceeded north at a rate of knots (nautical terminology is allowed as it tends to be quite wet up here). It's about 45 miles to the parking spot, at a place called Langlee Ford, just south of Wooler, and once you are off the main roads it's pretty much all single track, following the course of Harthope Burn, a small but stunningly pretty water course.

So, out of the car, a brief discussion about gaiters and their merits, some meaningful looks from a particularly belligerent pack of sheep, and we're off.

Normal looking people.

Not a normal person, note the insane grin.

 The initial part of the walk runs north west keeping Hawsen burn on our left side, where you quickly gain enough height to look back across the valley to see Langlee Crags, with the car parking area in the valley below. The path does not appear to be that well used, although Ian and I have traversed this route quite a number of times. There is also a Landrover track that runs parallel to it for the bird chasing, gun toting athletes that have forgotten how to walk..... sorry, went off on a one momentarily there. The hill crests at about 450 metres, with the path running between Blackseat Hill and Scald hill to our left, and Cold Law and Broadhope Hill to our right. As we plodge fourth the valley opens up below and in front of us. A leap over the fence, a walk through the trees and we are back to a steady descent to the valley floor. A brief sad session ensued when we found a red squirrel in a rat trap, then in no time at all we find ourselves walking between the farm buildings at Goldscleough and continue our westerly route to Dunsdale, effectively having walked around the bottom of The Cheviot.

Bizzle Valley 

Having reached Dunsdale, we start to make our way into the Bizzle valley with the somewhat unstable crags high up on the plateau to our right (don’t ask why we know they are unstable, alright, you saw nothing.....). Again, Ian and I have passed through here many times before, and it is one of the few places in Northumberland where a decent ice climb forms most years. It has also been the scene of a particularly tragic event, when in the early 1980’s, two young men were killed in an avalanche.

Looking up Bizzle Burn

 The valley becomes quite narrow as you get higher, eventually turning into a slot that holds Bizzle Burn, collecting the water from the plateau and channeling it down hill. After a short stop for butties and a bit of a play around on the solitary block, we started following the burn, with this probably being the steepest section of the walk. Most of the way up you can stick to the side, crossing the stream a number of times to make better progress as some of the sections require you to either go up over the rocks in the middle of the stream or swap sides due to the path disappearing into a rock wall. The only really tricky bit was the occasional bits of ice on some of the rocks. As we got higher we then started to traverse off to our left, the very steepest bit, and break out on to the plateau near to Bellyside Crag. After a few more photos, a quick snowball fight (not joking) and a very light snow storm, we made our way  about another kilometre across the reasonably flat , water drenched top to the summit and the elevated trig point.

Just on the Plateau

One of the best things about the Cheviot is that some enterprising souls installed an excellent path made from huge (and I do mean HUGE) blocks of stone. Ian tells me that it was particularly unpleasant in the old days, especially as the mountain - yes, it is officially a mountain - is more of a mud splat than a pointed rock edifice. Anyway, the path is a good 1 km or more long, and allows you to make excellent swift progress across the top.

Guardians of the sacred Trig

And, as they say, it’s pretty much all downhill from here, quite literally. The route down is quite steep in places, but navigating is really easy as there are a number of fences that give you a “hand rail” (its a navigating term and simply means a reliable object that points the way). So, back to the car, a swift drive to The Shoulder of Mutton at Long Horsley, a pint to toast the day’s success, and away home to the sounds of Steel Panther, dropping my chums off along the way.

Perfect? Pretty much really.

Robin.

Distance 15km

Max altitude 815 metres

Total ascent ~1000 metres

Duration 4hrs 30 mins