#ONE JULY IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR HE CLIMBED UP ON THE WATER TOWER!! STOOD ON THE RAIL AND PAINTED A TEN FOOT HEART!!!

[cammie]

joe diffie put his whole pussy into john deere green i’m sorry. i am coming out as a country music fan

[ethanshumbleadventures-blog]

“Get down! Get the fuck off the mountain!”

The above quote is from the summit of Mount Blanca in Colorado. Blanca is the fourth highest 14er in Colorado. It stands at a towering 14,344 feet. Safe to say, Blanca is an impressive mountain.

This story is going to be hard to tell. Blanca provided the challenge and experience that I needed more than ever in my life. A year ago I had part of my liver removed. It took me many months to recover. Numerous infections and set backs took a toll on me mentally. My anxiety hit an all time high. I suffered through panic attacks. I was feeling lost. I feel like Blanca saved me. Let me tell you how.

The Set-Up:

My friend Conor had been driving in Southern Colorado for work. We happened to be on the phone and shortly after we parted, he sent me a picture. The picture was of Ellingwood, Blanca, and Little Bear peaks. We started to plan our trip right after.

The trip came together quickly. Friends also became interested in our upcoming adventure. Will and Matthew joined in. Matthew currently lives in Atlanta. It took some work to get him to go for it. Will was game immediately, choosing to spend his birthday grinding up a mountain with a 40-pound pack.

I had intended to go backpacking several times over the last three years, but it never panned out. I was determined to make this one happen, but a bit nervous. My mind would not stop fixating on the unknown.

Here We Go:

I spent all week preparing. Going through my gear several times. Making sure I had all my cameras set up and ready to go. Reading trail information. Trying to picture the whole process before it happened.

Thursday at 4 p.m., Elisa took me to the airport. I got my coffee, and sat, reading My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir. Muir may be the best person to look to before an expedition. I got lost in the book, and did nothing else until I was in Denver.

Once I landed in Denver, it was real. Conor and Alyssa picked me up from the airport. I was excited to see them. I wish it were more often. We headed to their apartment downtown, dropped all my stuff, and headed to a late dinner. It was about 9 p.m.

Beer, fries and a chicken wrap were on the menu. I had officially entered the ‘zero fucks’ zone when it came to diet. Time to fuel up.

After dinner, it was time to make the grocery run. This is when I met Will for the first time. I don’t know if any of us were more enthusiastic about the attempt of climbing two 14ers more than Will. He wanted a challenge for his birthday.

Matthew was on a plane during all of this. Conor, Will and I got the food back to the apartment. Started packing, and then we went to get Matthew. It had been a year and a half since Conor, Matthew, and myself had been together. I was excited for us to be reunited.

It was almost midnight. We were scanning through the crowd to see our friend. At the end of the pickup area, there stood Matthew. Rocking a pack the same size as him, hugs all around. I love that we can pick up right where we left off.

Late night packing concluded. We got to bed for a few hours of sleep. Snooze, a local restaurant, was the first destination in the morning.

Day 1: Friday, July 21

We sat at Snooze and enjoyed some food before we traveled to the trail head. Nervous, excited, maybe some moments of terror. Sharing laughs (occasionally at one another’s expense) Trying to anticipate what couldn’t be. How would the trail be? What dangers would we encounter? Unimportant details, and I had to remind myself of that. No adventure happens without struggle and risk. That is why we go on them. Off to the mountains.

There they stood. Beautiful. Three peaks, looking down on those who would dare attempt to conquer them.  Any doubt in our ability left our minds. We were all determined to get to the top of those mountains.

Our packs were heavy. We felt the burden before we went a few steps. The sun was beating down on us. Our trailhead was a desert, not the beautiful mountain terrain we had imagined for weeks. After sitting in a car for a few hours, the beginning of the trail was truly brutal. Out of breath, getting used to the pack, and nothing but rocks under your boots. All up hill.

The sun was slowly disappearing. Clouds were coming over the top of the mountain in no clear direction, but getting closer to us. The storm started slowly. A light drizzle convinced us to get out the rain gear, and cover our packs. Soon after, the hail came pouring down, stinging us as we got behind a shrub and under our tarp. The trail quickly flooded. Hail continued to fly down keeping us tucked away from our goal. We were stressed at first. It was late in the afternoon, and we were only a mile into our journey. Would we make it to camp before dark? Would our gear already be soaked? No matter if those things happened, it was part of the experience. “Just enjoy it,” I tried to tell myself.

We spent most of our hour talking, having fun and being shocked by the size of the hail. Mother nature finally let up. The water ran off the trail, and we continued. It must be mentioned here that Matthew forgot his rain jacket. He is an Eagle Scout. It was an enjoyable topic of conversation the rest of the trip.

We started back on the trail with enhanced determination. Some time had to be made up if we were going to have light at camp and get a decent amount of sleep for the next day. Motivation came with every switchback completed. Vehicles were still making their way up the muddy trail. We were shocked to see one SUV hanging close to the edge of a cliff. The owner sulked in his tent as he waited for help.

Hours went by. We enjoyed each others’ company, but the day was beginning to take its toll. Matthew was getting altitude sickness. Will was cramping badly. All of us were realizing we wouldn’t make it to camp before dark. We continued to stay positive and motivate each other. It is fine to show up at night, but just a pain in the ass.

It was about 9:00 pm. We finally got to camp. It didn’t take us long to find our spot. The camp was set up as quickly as possible. Backpacking tents are just the best. So easy to put up. The rough part was seeing all of the gear, and keeping it organized. We managed to get everything together. I must admit, I was not in the best of moods at this moment. I was so hungry. I wasn’t going to eat until everything was done, so the hustle was real.

The camp was finally set up. We had a beautiful spot. Surrounded by trees, and soft ground. Matthew was still in bad shape. Altitude sickness was giving him a run for his money. Conor, Will and I were getting some freeze-dried meals going. I recommend the chili mac. At the moment, it was the best meal ever. Will commented how quickly my mood changed a couple of bites into dinner. Apparently, I was hangry, and I didn’t even know it.

We sat around the JetBoil and sipped on some tea, and encouraged Matthew to eat some ramen. He needed to eat, or he would not be in good shape in the morning.

I didn’t have much trouble sleeping that night. I was ready for the adventure that would come in the morning. The tent is one of my favorite places to rest. Nothing more comfortable. It had been a hard day. An exciting day. Time to rest.

Day 2: The Summit of Blanca

There is nothing like cold, crisp mountain air in the morning. It gives you a particular type of energy. The energy needed to explore.

We rose out of the tents. Matthew was still not feeling that great. All of us were feeling beat up from the previous day. If only we knew the pains that the present would bring us.

Wilderness does not provide many relaxing moments. After taking in the morning air, it was time for us to get to work. Get the day packs together, filter water, eat, make coffee, do our morning business, and the list goes on. We quickly felt that we should have got up a bit earlier.

All four of us were ready. Mentally and physically (kind of). We made our way around Lake Como, and up a little hill. Once we got out of the tree line, our path was clear. Straight up and beautiful. The task of climbing Blanca and Ellingwood was more daunting at that moment. It’s like the power of the peak grows as you get closer.

I have walked through many beautiful places, but this was especially breath taking. If you are a fan of Middle Earth, then this is the place for you. Lush grass all around. Crystal mountain water was flowing by the trail. The four of us were feeling what I can only describe as true joy. There were no concerns, except that moment.

The beauty of our trail distracted us a bit from the clouds above the peaks. I think we all felt that there wasn’t much that could bring us down. We continued up, making great time. Much easier to move when the pack isn’t 50 pounds.

Up and up we went. Rock started to replace grass; snow was hiding in the shade, cloud continued to circle in the valley over the ridge. Once we got to about 13,000 ft, it was time to scramble. Nothing too crazy. It made life a bit more exciting. We could see the top getting closer. The thought of standing on that peak inspired us, conquering the elements to do something great. Something we would remember forever.

Day 2: The Storm

Life can take a quick downturn on the mountains. This is how our day went from amazing to terrifying. At this point in the tale, I will only speak my own thoughts.

It got colder, darker, and the scrambling became more difficult, with no quick path away from these dark clouds. Conor and Will stormed forward determined to beat out the approaching storm. Matthew and I were moving a bit slower. Sensing retreat may be close. I should have listened to myself, but ego prevailed.

We were within 100 ft of the summit. So close. The clouds were beginning to surround the ridge. We could not see the valley below. Only a sheer drop to the left, so I made sure to keep my scrambling to the right. Conor was out of sight, so I assumed he summited. Will was almost there. Matthew a few yards behind me. I stopped and spoke to all the climbers making their way down. They provided words of caution and encouragement. “You have about 30 minutes. You can make it if you hurry, but don’t hang out up there.”

Only if we had 30 minutes, but only seconds after I lost sight of Will, he was coming back yelling at me “Get down! Get the fuck off the mountain!” He and Conor had been literally shocked by the rocks. Electricity was shooting through the ridge. Time had run out. Panic took over. I yelled down to Matthew that we needed to move. We did not wait on each other. Every man for himself at this point.

There was a moment that will never leave my mind. We were all making our way down. Fourteen people stood on the mountain other than ourselves. Everyone was trying to make their way down. Suddenly, everything halted, and lighting shot across the sky, striking the ridge behind us. The ridge we were on only moments ago. Time stopped. I looked around. No one was moving. We were in trouble.

Thunder from the strike trailed off. I have never moved with such intensity. I saw Will fall ahead of me, his knee covered in blood. Immediately after, I fell over a boulder. It didn’t matter what damage was done. I was going. Matthew was doing the same. Conor was bolting down ahead. I caught up with Will. Rain started to fall, making our escape even more dangerous. We had no choice, but to fight through frequent falling. Our bodies were banging on the rocks. Wondering if our friends were making it down, while considering our fate.

Dime sized hail began its assault on us. We were completely exposed. All we could do was push forward. We had lost the trail immediately after the lightning strike. Electing to b-line it for safety. There was a spot with a ridge part of the way down. We were hoping to shield ourselves under that.

Will and I made it down to the ridge. We still had no clue where Conor and Matthew were. All we could do was get ourselves to safety. As we found the safest way down the wet rock, I heard my name through the howl of the storm. I looked down to see Conor under the ridge. I was happy to see he was okay, but we were still a long way from safety. The storm came on so quickly that none of got out our rain gear, so we were soaked.

Where was Matthew? Will and I lost sight of him when the hail started coming down. He was 60-70 yards behind us before the hail came crashing in. That is a long way on that mountain top. I began to panic. Hopefully, he isn’t alone. Hopefully, he didn’t fall. How could we even help him? I stepped out from under the ledge, looking up into the storm, there stood Matthew, 20ft above us. I called out to him, waving my arms, smiling at the sight of my friend. Matthew was in bad shape. Him and I got under a ledge, he couldn’t stop shivering. I did my best to help him stay warm, but not moving wasn’t helping.

Two more hikers joined us under the ledge, seeking any shelter from the storm. Conor and Will were under the tarp with the two newcomers. Both in cotton and without rain gear.

Matthew and I sat under the ledge, looking out to the raging storm, wondering how we could get out of this. Matthew was getting worse by the minute. Do we just sit there, and become hypothermic? Do we move, risk falling, or lightning strike? There was no reasonable solution. At that moment, we both thought we were completely fucked. We should have turned back when we go that bad feeling in our guts, but we didn’t, and now we might not make it down.

Under that ledge, everything that is precious to me went through my mind. Family dinners, watching tv with Elisa and Arlo. All the people I may not see again. Our potential demise was real. A new understanding of what it means to be finite.

Minutes go by slowly, as we sit in our situation. Half hearted attempts at positivity. I noticed movement below us, where Conor, Will, and the two other hikers were. The two hikers were starting their descent. I then looked out to the storm, and the hail was a bit lighter. It was our moment. Our chance to make a break for the trees, that was still another 2.5 miles off in the distance. I went down to Conor and Will, saying we should go while we can, Matthew needed to move, or he would be in serious trouble within the hour. We all gathered our gear. Thunder was still heard in the valley behind us. I through my trekking poles, and Helle knife to the ground. The less gear to attract lightning the better. A gift for the fellow adventurer.

Will and I took off swiftly. Conor stayed behind to help Matthew get dry clothes, and his down jacket on. We were all trying to move quickly, but Matthew was struggling to warm up. I kept checking back to see where they were. I quickly caught up with the two other hikers. The rain and hail had finally stopped, and we gave ourselves a break to wait on the others. We were all cold. One of the hikers was in t shift and shorts. I took the opportunity to get my down jacket out. I felt guilty, but that is why you prepare.

As we waited, I did not examine my camera or any other gear. I was thankful to have a bit of warmth and to be closer to safety. To have all of my friends be okay.

The distance between us and the storm grew, but our fear did not do the same. We all knew what could have happened. We all knew we could just as easily have lost everything. We could have been no more. There were still more people in the middle of that storm. Two little girls with their Dads. Their uncle was one of the two hikers that had joined with us. A couple from Kansas that was separated when the storm rolled in. How were they doing? Were they safe? Could they get out of the storm as we did? The day still seemed desolate.

Matthew was improving as he continued to move. We knew his sleeping bag was where he needed to be, and out of wet clothes.

All six of us were still contemplating what had happened. How do we go about explaining what we just went through? How would our loved ones react? Something that couldn’t be answered in the moment. Terror was leaving us, and trauma began.

Our situation improved with each step. The sun was starting to show itself. Giving a bit of warmth to our still cold and wet bodies, we had made it down to the waterfall that flows in a beautiful meadow when the sun came all the way out. We celebrated with a water break. I shared what I had with our two new friends. We checked in with Matthew, and he was doing much better. At least in a sense, we weren’t worried about him not making it.

We talked about making a big fire back at the camp. Taking shots of whiskey to celebrate life. Sharing other moments when we had been that terrified. Happy to be in the calm meadow. So beautiful and welcoming. Getting closer to the safety of the trees.

The tree line was welcomed. I turned back to see clouds continuing to rage over Blanca’s peak. The camp was just down the hill, and around Lake Como. One of our friends was already camping, but the man in a t-shirt and shorts still had to go another 5 miles to the car. I invited him to sit, warm up, and have a stiff drink, but he elected to get back home as soon as possible.

I stubbled into camp first. I fell to the soft, pine covered, forest floor. Looking into the trees, thinking how lucky I am, how amazing of an adventure that was, and that I couldn’t wait to see my loved ones. The desolate view from under that ledge, burnt into my mind, reminding me of my lowest moment, and what becomes clear when a moment like that happens. Conor walked into the camp next, and we hugged each other, happy we were safely at camp. Will and Matthew appeared shortly after. We all embraced, not believing what had just happened. Now we could celebrate our conquest of Blanca.

Day 2: The Celebration

Getting out of our wet clothes was a joyus feeling. I just rocked my long underwear and down jacket. We were all exhausted, and looking to enjoy our afternoon, and attempt to calm down from what had just happened. We made coffee and tea (Also, took some shots of whiskey) while reliving what had just happened. Putting the pieces of our adventure together. Going through the moments, we all thought it was over, and I am not exaggerating about that. All four of us shared the experience when we thought the mountain might keep us forever. We talked for a while. Repeating how much disbelief we felt about what just happened. Not believing we just went through that, such intensity and fear.

Disbelief and shock would be a theme for us the next two days, but eventually, that afternoon we briefly moved on. Getting our hammocks out, and continuing to drink. Talking about other adventures, and exciting things in life. Our fun was ended by rain. This time we had our tents to go to. Never have I been so happy to go into my sleeping bag. Matthew, and I could not sleep as easily as Conor and Will did. We talked for a while; catching up on what has been going on in Atlanta and Kansas City. Matthew tried to sleep a bit, so i decided to record my thoughts on the day. I will keep that to myself for now, but it is important to look back on, and not forget.

The rain came down for three hours. The afternoon we had planned didn’t quite pan out, but neither did a lot of what we imagined for the trip. I still enjoyed what we got. Once the rain was over, it was time to have dinner. I was excited about a warm freeze-dried meal. Matthew was feeling better, so he tried to make a fire again, but we had the same result. It made for a good laugh.

We sat around the Jetboil, looking back on what had been the craziest 48 hours of our lives, and talking about what our next adventure would be. I continue to push for a visit to the Tetons. It would certainly result in an epic journey.

We went to bed more thankful than ever. Knowing what it felt like to almost not be. Our sleep was continuously interrupted by another nasty storm coming. The mountain had to have one last laugh before we left in the morning. I suppose I do not blame it one bit.

Day 3: A 5 Mile Goodbye

We woke at 5:30 yelling “Time to wake up!”. I question how those camping near us felt, but we got up quickly! My body felt so useless, too stiff, and beat up to move, but it was time to get back. It seemed like my friends were suffering from the same problem, especially Matthew.

No breakfast till we made it back to town, so we just had some bars and peanut butter. Those who had to do the morning business did, and off we went! Leaving the mountain more complete than we were when we set up camp.

Mother nature decided to give us a beautiful morning. The mountain air without rain, and the rising sun coming through the pines. I was going down in my trail runners. My boots had been soaked in the storm from the night before. The wind took the cover off my boots. The trail runners felt good because they were so light, but hurt when the trail became rocky. I had to walk with a bit more care. Matthew was behind us the whole time. His body was the most bruised from the ungraceful escape the morning before.

Despite how our bodies felt, we kept a good pace to the car. The thought of a warm breakfast is what drove me, but I cannot speak for the others. We recounted our weekend the entire way down. Talking about that day is something we will do the rest of our lives. Blanca will always be one of our favorite stories.

We experienced some fun moments on the way down, reminding us the journey was not over yet. There is a stream to cross, and the storm had turned it into a small river. Conor and Will made it across without too much effort. Matthew decided to forsake his trail shoes and go across the rocks with them. I through my trail runners across the water, to the other side (Conor stopped one from getting away down stream). I then put my wet boots on and walked through the water around Matthew. My running through the water made for a good laugh.

Fun moments continued on the trail. I tripped over a small rock, and I have to thank my pack for breaking most of the fall. I blame the loss of concentration on not eating much before we left. We passed many hikers on the way up. Our story was shared with most of them. At least some of the bigger details. We wished all of them better luck with the weather.

The final section of the trail that is in the valley was just as unenjoyable as the first day. The rocks were bigger, and no soft ground for relief. My trail runners were not great for my feet at this moment. The car was close, and so was the end of our journey.

A Grand Meal:

Conor made it to the first, followed by myself, Will, and then Matthew. We took our packs off with great satisfaction, looking back to the mountain that had just been the challenge of a lifetime. To breakfast, we went. A storm was raging over Blanca as we drove away. We wished those who were up there a safe trip down.

Hunger seems like an insufficient adjective for what I felt when walked into a local diner. We craved beer, coffee, water, and food, so that exactly what I ordered. I enjoyed all three of my drinks with great appreciation. The beer was so smooth and crisp. My meal was a giant pancake and Western omelet. My belly was satisfied and happy that I waited till after the hike to eat. I know my friends enjoyed their food, Will most of all. After he took one bite of his meal, he stopped, and says in the middle of the full diner, “Fuck freeze-dried food!”. Our table erupted with laughter. There was nothing better that could have been said.

We seemed to laugh so much at breakfast. We imagined how we would share the epic tale of our weekend. How would I write it on this blog? Would I share all the details? It seemed like I had to. After breakfast, it was back to Denver. Our adventure was complete.

I continue to talk about my friends about Blanca weekly. I think about it every day. Under that ledge, during the storm, I wished I had never stepped foot on the trail, and that I could be as far away from that danger as possible. It is only natural to think like this. Now, I do not wish that. I am happy I had the experience I did. We do not go on adventures to experience comfort and a cool view. That just doesn’t feel real, but what happened to us did. We went on Blanca for a challenge, and that is what we got. That is what we needed. Blanca humbled all of us. Giving the strongest of reminders, that there is no room for ego in the wild.

I said that Blanca saved me, and I meant that. Blanca showed me what matters most because it almost took it away. Everything that weighed on my mind before, shrank. I couldn’t have asked for a greater gift.

The hike that almost killed us “Get down! Get the fuck off the mountain!” The above quote is from the summit of Mount Blanca in Colorado.

[bujoloveme]

Coroners Inquests in Somerset from old newspaper archives

Weston-super-Mare Pier Suicide, August 1881

The wife of Mr. Richard Nash of Oakhouse Martley, Worcester, committed suicide by jumping off the pier in Weston-Super-Mare. She went for a walk with a friend and while her friend was paying for the pier, Mrs. Nash came to the railings and climbed into the water. The body was recovered later that day.

Suicide Pact of Huntspill near Highbridge, August 1868

Elizabeth Cridge, nearly sixteen years old, and Jane Meaker, nineteen, both stayed out one night. Their beds had not fallen asleep and they were nowhere to be seen, so a party was looking for them, but to no avail. Eventually her bodies were discovered in a cattle herd on the grounds of her employer. Rather romantic, they were held in the arms of each other, both were obviously cold. There are rumors of this immoral attitude, and these had reached the Vicar, Reverend Arundell. Vicar told her boss, Mr. Hawkins, and he quickly talked to them about the gossip. Hawkins told them that if the rumors were true, they would not have ears on Monday. On Sunday night they made a kind of suicide pact and both dipped into the small, but rather deep pond. The question remained, were they healthy when they did it? The verdict was "Felo de Se". The girls were buried within the day between nine and twelve o'clock at night and did not perform any Christian rites, as was usual for suicides. Huntspill is in a gloomy mood at the moment.

Hallatrow Church Suicide, Somerset July 1861

Hallatrow has no church, but High Littleton, so it could be. Miss Collins, the Virgin of the Church, sent two young girls to clean her up before the Sunday service. They went about their business, and meanwhile their fifteen-year-old brother sneaked in and went to the bell tower. After ten or fifteen minutes, a sister found him swinging on a rope. The rope used was also used to ring the bells. He had been so determined that, while the rope was much too long, he threw his legs away from him, otherwise his feet would have touched the ground and he would get into a kind of kneeling position.

Bath, October 1836

Uriah Hales, a worker, fell into a lime kiln on Lower Bristol Road in Bath. He was released from the oven, but his two legs had literally burned down.

Frome Suicide, September 1843

A tragic event took place about a mile from Frome, Somerset. Thomas Moon went with a relative to Vallis Vale, as he then stood on the rocks and dropped. The height of the rock was about one hundred and fifty feet and not surprisingly it was killed as soon as it hit the ground.

Twerton, Bath June 1860 (fatal accident)

In Twerton, there was a terrible accident in which a little girl died. The name of the children is Grissel and their parents live on the side street of the Royal Oak Inn. The children were playing near the road one day as they walked beside a car with a load of wood in it. One of the pieces of wood weighed a few tons more, and for some inexplicable reason, she managed to fall under the wheel, right above her head. The girl died instantly and her brain stuck out of the head of her lifeless body. Her brother had tried to save her, and his foot was squeezed under the wheel.

Weston-Super-Mare, October 1885

Mrs. Emily Kirkbride had employed Emily Mary Nicholas as a domestic worker at Woodhill on Manor Road in Ashcombe. She had been there for over four years, but Mrs. Kirkbride guessed she was pregnant. She had a word with her and told her that she was right in her assumption. Kirkbride then told her mother to go home. Nicholas was disappointed with the news, but was told that she could stay another day. Mrs. Kirkbride left her alone the next day around three o'clock and when she returned at seven o'clock, she saw that the house was locked and not lit. Kirkbride thought she'd been picked up at the train station to stay out for half an hour, but then she heard a moan. The mistress got help immediately and the door was opened. A message has been sent to get her mother or father, and at a good time. As soon as they opened the door to her bedroom, her father appeared to console her. Nicholas had taken some poison and the doctor was able to rescue her, and a few days later she went home. The day after she went home, she gave birth to a child, but she was born dead, and a few hours later Emily Nicholas died. She left a sad letter saying, "I hope the Almighty will forgive me for what I will do and bring me home so I can be with Him. I do not want to live so as not to be a problem for anyone. Goodbye, my dear mother and father, brothers and sister and my dear mistress. I hope to see you again someday. Friends, you all know about it; it will drive me crazy. I hope that the bad misery has to suffer and bear all costs. So goodbye. "Nobody knew who this mysterious person she's written about.

Dowlish Wake February 1881 (Vicars Suicide)

The vicar of Dowlish Wake, Rev. Benjamin Speke, killed himself by drowning. His wife had died the day before, and a few years ago the clergyman was missing. His clothes were found in London, several weeks later he turned up in Cornwall and managed to get a job as a rancher. He was eccentric, to say the least!

Hampton Rocks Skeleton, Bath September 1893

Two boys have made a terrible discovery while exploring a cave. While they were in the Hampton Rocks Cave in Bath, they came upon the remains of a 20/30 year old woman, covered with flat stones and badly decomposed. It was limited to being a skeleton, and had been there for a long time and could only be designated as a woman due to the clothes and hair rest. The boys came in contact with the police, but eventually the County Police took over the investigation.

Nailsea Dynamite Suicide, October 1893

John Roberts was a miner and he lived with his wife in Nailsea and, to say the least, had a stony relationship and was brought to court for their attack. As a miner, he sneaked some sticks of dynamite from his workplace, put a stick in the trash, and lit it while his wife was there, waiting for the thirty-second fuse to end. He went into the yard, then heard a loud explosion (and the people who lived a mile away said they heard it) and his head was blown to atoms.

Keynsham, March 1857 (fatal accident)

A fatal accident occurred at the Hillsbridge Iron Works near Keynsham. A man with the rather Dickensian name, Holiday Bush, who worked as a roller operator at the factory, picked up a wrench when a piece of his clothes got stuck in the machine. Then he dragged him headfirst against the drums and he killed immediately.

Portbury Suicide, May 1830

A young boy, only sixteen years old, drowned in Portbury because his lover had rejected him for inappropriate behavior while her husband was away. The guy tied a huge stone around his neck with his braces and plunged into the water. Because he was believed to have committed suicide, his body was buried at midnight and without religious rites.

River Avon near Bath, March 1904

An investigation was made of the body of a gentleman employee named C.F.Davis of Clevedon, whose body was fished out of the Avon. He left a farewell letter and his hat on the bench, as well as a second note to the coroner: "I have fully realized this act of the terrible eternity that awaits me in the episode, but it is only the fitting end to a life of misery. God help my soul. Tuesday, February 23; 9 am to 3 pm. Moved to six o'clock tomorrow.

The following letter to a friend reads: – "I hereby send you a pair of golden links, the last possession with which I must part. Try to ponder all the friends in Clevedon, kindly, and forgive the hasty deed I'm going to make tonight … Tell everyone who's interested in finding my body as soon as possible. I'm afraid of rats and eels. The only step I still have to take; what else can I do? I've done my best since leaving Clevedon to fight it. The more I think, the worse I am and the more urgent it is for me to clarify as quickly as possible. God forbids that it was always my intention to "make" anyone, but circumstances change the cases. My life was a cursed life. "

His uncle killed himself twenty years ago, and his mother died in an asylum for about a month, and a warrant for his arrest has been issued. Judgment "Suicide while temporarily insane".

Puxton Station near Weston-Super-Mare, September 1904

The express train had just driven through the Puxton Station near Weston-Super-Mare when a layer of slabs noticed something on the tracks. On closer inspection, it turned out to be the decapitated body of a young woman. The remains were identified as those of Katherine Woodford at the age of 24, the daughter of Locking's rector. She had driven around the area and the bicycle was discovered in a field some distance away.

Weston Super Mare Suicide, August 1884

A member of the Volunteer Engineer Corps, a man named Twitt, blew himself out in his bedroom in Weston-Super-Mare. His sick wife was in bed at the time, and his wife was very desperate for his suicide and she is not expected to recover from the shock.

Suicide of Grosvenor Suspension Bridge, Bath, February 1918

An airplane worker, Mabel Holland, 16, jumped from the Grosvenor Suspension Bridge in Bath. She was suspected of dishonesty, but this was unjustified and the girl from Bath decided to end everything. She left a message why she had done it.

"I've almost lost my thoughts with their taunts. The girls who work with me have driven me to it. "

Weston near Bath, July 1900

A mob of 200 to 300 people in the village of Weston near Bath attacked a poor woman. Her husband had died, and shortly afterwards she was convicted of a crime. The unruly crowd seized them, lit them, and pulled them through the streets, which were attached to a rope. Reverend Hayas Robinson, the pastor of the parish, intervened as they "crouched", cutting the rope and freeing the woman. One man was imprisoned for three months and two others were each a few weeks in the clink. Some others were fined £ 2 each.

Glastonbury Church Suicide, February 1840

The suicide of a Mr. Bullhead took place in Glastonbury. He was heavily in debt and owed £ 1700 to a local firm, and it was assumed that he had invested in the Glastonbury Canal, which apparently also lost money. The solution was simple. Mr. Bullhead borrowed the keys to the church tower and told the sexton he wanted to survey the surrounding countryside to see if it had been flooded in the recent violent rainstorms. He made it to the top of the tower and then dropped off.

Lansdown Grove Hotel Suicide, Bath, September 1889

A body of a man was discovered near the Lansdown Grove Hotel in Bath. He was found under an elm and was identified as the inmate of Bailbrook Asylum. His name was Julian Fowler, the son of the vicar of Walton near Clevedon. He had shot himself in the head with the weapon at his side. A few days earlier, Fowler's father allowed his son to take him home. This he did over a little break in Wales. The father sent a postcard to the responsible asylum officer, Dr. Ing. Wetherley, and said that they would come back that day. Fowler and his father arrived from Chepstow, Bath, and he had to travel three miles back to Bailbrook alone. This was the occasion he needed and then committed suicide near the hotel.

Gurney Slade Fatal Explosion, January 1832

Mr. George Gait, a grocer in the village of Gurney Slade, went to his wife. The rest of the family, a total of eight, went to the chapel, with one of the daughters making a fire and throwing the contents of a box into the fire. She thought it was the coal box, but it contained several pounds of gunpowder and the house was torn to pieces. Two of the children were completely killed and three are in critical condition.

Badmord / Suicide, February 1850

Edmund Hunt killed his own life and that of his toddler in Bath. The child's wife and mother were an ordinary shoplifter, and when he came home one night and found out she had been arrested again, he took the child and went down to the River Avon and plunged into the water. He was deeply attached to the child and only thirty-seven years old.

Banwell Drowning, Weston-Super-Mare, January 1884

In Banwell, a few young men named Phillips and Richards had a street brawl. Phillips was dragged away by his friends, and Richards was led by the crowd to a mill pond where he was pushed. In the middle of the pond was a tiny island he stayed on until he said they had a boat. Instead, he took a bath for it, got caught in weeds, and immediately drowned.

Taunton Suicide, October 1868

About seven miles from Taunton in Blackdown Hills, a corpse of a man was found, with his neck slashed. In a ditch, about a mile from the Holman Clavell Inn in Pitminster, the ruined remains were found and nearby were a razor and a knife, both of which were covered in blood. The man's name was Henry Mitchell of Crediton and was a former member of the 16th Rifles, and it was estimated that it had been there for at least a week.

Southstoke Brewery Fatality, Bath, March 1887

Thirty-six-year-old Charles Witchell (# 2), Crossway Cottages, Combe Down, lived with his brother and sister and was missing from his home. He had worked for Southstoke Brewery in Bath for twenty years. Questions were asked about his whereabouts and it was found that he had not worked in the brewery, they thought he had gotten sick and stayed home. As the hours turned into days, the family became worried and wanted. His body was in an empty container in the brewery. He was accidentally found when a worker went to the roof of the building, and he spotted Witchell's hat next to the tub. The vat was empty but contained enough gas to kill a man. It can not be determined whether it is a tragic accident or suicide.

Suicide in Taunton County Gaol, February 1850

County Gaol in Taunton saw the suicide of a juvenile prisoner. 16-year-old W.Hounsell was imprisoned for fleeing the Chard Union. He was obviously so disturbed by his stay with Her Majesty that he threw himself under the wheel of a treadmill on which eighteen men worked. They tried to stop in time, but the guy was badly disheveled and when they got him out, he was already dead.

Monkton Combe Mill Suicide, September 1864

Thomas Watts, a miller, left his house and went to the mill in Monkton Combe. During the morning, someone wanted to talk to him about business matters, but they could not find him and looked around. He was found in the mill, which hung on a beam. In the roof area where it was found, the soil sinks seven feet deep so that the grain can run into the mill. He stood on the edge of the bath and tied a rope around a beam, put it around his neck and jumped off.

Bad self-immolation, August 1863

The wife of William Wallace, a farmer living in Worle, committed suicide in a frightening manner. One morning, Mr. Wallace left the farm to look over fields and cattle, leaving the wife and two children at home. Shortly after leaving, she dressed in a robe, went downstairs, turned on a light, and lit up. As she got out, she went into the garden and died of the terrible burns she suffered. She was called a "weak intellect" and had some weird delusions because her husband moved to a bigger and better farm. Friends told how she used to say that she did not want to leave the farm, and they had to carry her in a coffin.

Fear and Cowardly Saw, Bath, May 1834 (tragic accident)

27-year-old Henry Abrahams oversaw the circular saws of Messrs. Fear and Coward in Bath. When he came into contact with him, he turned to 3600 feet per minute. He first took off one arm, parted the side, tore open the guts, and released them. He was taken to United Hospital but it was hopeless and he died the next day.

Clevedon, July 1899 (woman found on rock)

William Hancock, a boatswain, rowed his boat near Salthouse Mill when he spotted the corpse on the rocks. He went to Clevedon and said Sergeant Fairchild. They found her again, and the only clue to her identity was the "H.W." she wore on her clothes. She was about thirty, blue coat and skirt, blue cap, black silk waistband and children's boots. It seems that the woman had fallen from a nearby, about thirty-meter high cliff on the rocks and was beaten by the waves and rocks around him.

Bad brothel suicide, June 1860

Thomas Bull, a farmer from Basingstoke, who had hung himself up at Monmouth Street 8 in Bath and was known as a loo. He went to Bath to attend the races in Lansdown. Then he met a prostitute named Jeffries. He went to the above address and stayed there for a few days. The brothel's wife told him to go home because he was depressed. He said he would and decided on a kip before he went back and he asked her to wake him up at three o'clock. The door was tightly closed when she wanted to start it up, so she fetched a copper cellar that helped open the door, along with a carpenter. They found Bull hanging on a string at the bedpost. The body was freezing cold and his hands were black, which means he was long dead. He had only one shirt on and no money or papers to prove who he was.

Frome, August 1847

A fatal accident occurred near Frome, who, it seems, was seen in a woman's dream. The wife of a man named Gibbs, who was a carter, dreamed that a car had run over her husband while he was at work killing him. She was absolutely convinced of that, but he gave it away. He had to go to Bath one day and the wife asked him to take her daughter with him. Everything went well until they returned at seven in the evening and came to Ammerdown. The horses got angry and Gibbs tried to jump and stop them. Suddenly the dream came true in all aspects. He was run over by them and lived for several hours, but during the accident, the daughter tried to help and was run over and even killed.

Somerset County Gaol, Taunton, January 1857 (tragic accident)

George Kingdon was a prisoner in County Gaol in Taunton. He was with six others in the drainage work and above them were some men on scaffolding. An iron bar fell down and tried to jump out of the way, instead she landed on his head. He breathed unconsciously and only lasted a few minutes before he died. An autopsy revealed that bone fragments had entered his brain from the skull. The bar had fallen nearly fifty yards, and if he had stayed where he was, the bar would have missed him.

Saltford Drowning, Somerset. September 1906

When Douglas Snell Chamberlain swam at Saltford's Avon on Saturday at the age of nineteen, he suddenly sank and dragged another swimmer, his cousin, Heal. Several people went to their aid and Heal was saved in an exhausted state, but Chamberlain was drowned.

Badmord / Suicide September 6, 1870

Mr. H.C. Hopkins writes in the British Medical Journal about the sad case of Miss Prankard, now in Bath United Hospital, and says she was wounded by two bullets, one of which kicked in front of her ear on either side. Both are now housed in the bones of the upper part of the mouth or in the nostril. To date, it has developed positively, but so far has not tried to remove the balls.

September 19, 1870 – Miss Kate Prankard, one of the victims of the late murderous assault, in which her sister was killed by her father and shot herself in the head, has recovered sufficiently to leave the hospital and live with her Friends It will be remembered that two bullets were placed in her head, above the palate, behind her nose, but the surgeon decided that no surgery was necessary in the hope that they would work out. They were right, because on Wednesday a bullet broke from where it had been embedded and fell into the young lady's mouth.

October 1, 1903 (The request)

The investigation of those killed in a recent Worle accident by a railway engine colliding on a train crossing was completed yesterday afternoon. The evidence showed that just before the accident, Smart, the driver of the car, said he could cross the intersection before the train passed by, and later said he would probably be spending twelve months with him. The jury has delivered a judgment against "Smarty" against Smart and argued that the crossing was not protected by a 70-year signal. Smart was sentenced to legal action, but was granted substantial guarantees for release. (Martha Biddiscombe and Isabel Hannon, both from Ferndale, were killed in the collision in Worle.)

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