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el-pollo-gigantes · 4 years ago

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Off piste by PentlandPirate : Thanks for 25 million views I was probably asking for it and got what I deserved. The weather forecast was for heavy rain, but I was determined to get some fresh air and feel I had been somewhere. And so I set off from the base of Mam Tor, along the Great Ridge towards Back Tor, a bit of a sticky up nipple with a tree on it in the distance. I set off up a sheep path up the side of the hill. It wiggled in and out along the contour line but walking across the slope of the wet hillside it was inevitably slippy and within the first couple of hundred yards Ii ended up sat in the mud twice. But I plodded on through the drizzle which became rain and then heavy rain. I ended up battening down the hatches and pulled the drawstring toggles on my Berghaus hood tight around my face as the rain developed into sleet as I headed across the exposed top. But Back Tor looked enticing as the mist/cloud/fog encirled the base leaving the tree topped promontory isolated against the sky. The weather made the walk pretty grim for me and I took this shot as the sleet came down. In the end there was nothing special to see and having got to the top I turned round for the journey back, aiming for a lower path along the side of the ridge. The weather continued to be cold and miserable and the hillside slippy and wet. But apart from encountering regular clumps of sodden tissue the return journey proved easier until: The track came to a small dark wood. I guess there isn't much light in there when the trees have their leaves in warmer seasons. So there was just a thin mulch of rotted leaves on top of the rain soaked bare clay earth. If other parts of th walk had been treacherous then this was far worse and I took care to find every little bit I could as I went down. It wasn't elegant. I slipped and fell several more times cursing the mountain bikers who have churned everything into a foetid black slurry. My left foot was giving me some grief, complaining that the horrible black stuff was leaking into my boot. But I made it to the other side where the path sank down into a fenced corner with a stile. From above I could see it was a quagmire. I hesitated. I didn't want to go down there. I looked up the hillside slope above me and saw that there appeared to be a route higher up and another stile. Right, up we go. It was only about twenty yards up the earthy bank. But it was greasy and brown, oozing dark water in places. It was smooth, no foot steps, hollows into which to put my feet. I went up, one step at a time, testing each foot hold. So many just had no hold and as soon a I shifted weight on to the 'holding' foot it would start to slip down hill on the wet clay soil. I made it up a couple of yards before misjudging my grip and then sliding back down into the mire at the bottom. Again I tried. Same again. It was so exhausting. And so filthy. I was beginning to give up any hope of getting up when I gave it another go. This time I made it almost to the top and stood up to catch my breath. And then felt my left foot started to slide so I shifted my weight more on to my right leg, and that foot started to slide. As I started to accelerate (curse my forefather for discovering gravity) I lost my balance and fell to my knees and then on to all fours so that I slid even faster down the mud, the black shit filling the inside of my coat sleeves. I slid all the way down with the grace of a wallowing hippopotamus down into the filth at the bottom. Some how I had rolled over too so I was coated in thick claggy mud from my chest down to where my legs went into my boots. front and back, my arse full of cold brown stuff too. What a mess! My heart sank. How would I ever get out of there, stuck in a mud pit? No one else around to rescue me! Eventually I made it, grabbing the sparcely spread prickly holly bushes and using my hands thrust down into the mud up to my wrists as land anchors to help me hold position on the slope. I imagined someone in the nearby house howling with laughter behind the bedroom window as they filmed me with their phone, try, try try again and again to get up the slope. Afterwards I wanted to get a shot with my phone too showing all the gouges and boot marks on the slope where I had slid down so many times, but my hands were so muddy I knew I wouldn't be able to make the touchscreen work. Eventually over the stile I lay down in some rough wet grass to wash some of the mud off. Further on, I saw a large puddle and wondered if I should strip off and bathe in it. But I know you would have wanted photos of that. Just as proof of the story. I wa so glad to make it back to my car and a warming cup of coffee. Dumping my back pack and filthy coat in the boot with a less than happy looking Darcy, I looked down at my totally sodden and caked trousers. I couldn't possibly get in the car like that. But I had no change of clothes. Or did I? Oh yes! I had a full set! No forget it. No way was I wearing soggy brown stained boxer shorts and a penguin costume all the way home! (You would have wanted pictures of that too you sick bunch!) Rraely has a very hot bath back at home felt quite so good! Here's a happy tune. If you haven't heard of Skerryvore they are pretty good for a Teuchter band www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbDn7PNM0F4 https://flic.kr/p/2kzerDg

#IFTTT #Flickr

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whatthehellisgoingon-blog · 4 years ago

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I was up on top of the right hand peak 2 hours ago shrouded in cloud. Now back athe car with a brew.

A fine day for a walk so after pouring over the maps at breakfast time I decided to head for Ben Griam Beg. A first time for me.

Loaded up the car and drove down the Strath and found a good place to park just north of the track that heads into Greamachary Cottage, its a private estate road and a railway crossing at the start so a couple of miles of easy good track to warm up before hitting the hill proper

Once I set off I realised I had left my map on the kitchen table at home and had stuck the Ben Hope map in my rucksack. Thank goodness for clear weather the OS map app and a relatively short steep climb on the hill.

After the cottage the track disappears and you are left with tussocks and bog to pick you way through before it starts to steepen up and get a bit drier under foot. I followed a stream for a while before turning up the hill. Again I am not sure I picked the best route up but there are spectacular views to be had in all directions. On the way up you can see the remains of an old hill Fort. Must off been Hardy buggers that built it and inhabited in years gone by.

Once at the summit it clouded over for 5 minutes and quickly cleared as fast as it arrived due to the wind quickly blowing it past, the poor old trig point at the top has seen better days

I took a slightly different route down off the summit which was steeper but better underfoot than the way up and made pretty good time back to the cottage and then back to the car for a quick brew and then away back home to listen to the dog snore and fart under the kitchen table............

Today was also my first outing with my paramo enduro fleece, worn on top of a berghaus base layer it kept me comfortable all day and more importantly helped shift my sweat very fast so at no point did I feel clamy cold or wet which is something I have found with other fleeces, it wasnt cold enough to need an extra layer on top but I did have another fleece and a paramo fuero smock in my back pack. I had also taken my craghoppers waterproofs just in case. I have only just got the paramo gear recently and have heard some folk don't get on well with it if it gets wet hence the waterproofs stashed as a back up.

#Hillwalking #Brewwithaview #greatoutdoors #dogwalking

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esandcasg · 4 years ago

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Chapter One - A Solitude Broken

The sound of a motorbike engine starting up outside the hut startled me. I had been dozing, half-asleep, listening to the wind and the sound of the cedallas, the loud insects that populated the jungle nearby. It had been a still night when I finally went to sleep, but the sound of the wind had woken me. It was such a rarity in this still, calm place, that I lay silently, listening to it rustle across the roof of the hut, taken in by the novelty of it.

I looked across at the watch next to my bed. It was close to three in the morning. I pushed the sheet off my bed and sat for a moment at the edge of the mattress. The mosquito net draped down across me, and I stared without focus at the mesh in front of my eyes.

The sound of the motorbike receded into the night. I edged out from underneath the net, my eyes adjusting to the dark. Four short steps took me to the door of my home; I swung it open and looked outside.

A cloudy sky hung over the village. The wind gusted a little, making me shiver. I reached back inside and grabbed a pullover which I’d left on a chair. Putting it on, I stepped outside into the night. Ahead of me, the jungle spread out across the horizon, a solitary road cutting through it, the only artery feeding the village, with its cluster of wooden huts. Each hut was pretty basic; two rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom, with a small veranda outside. The walls were wood poles tied together with banana leaves; the roof poles overlaid with leaves. They were simple yet sufficient; sturdy enough to withstand tropical storms; cool enough to provide refuge from the heat and humidity. My own hut, which stood a little away from the six others in the village, had been my home for the last three years.

I walked slowly out onto the decking which formed the veranda, where I’d placed a small wooden rocking chair which I’d built two years previously. I sat there now, thinking. There was a tranquillity to life here in the village, but I knew it was an artificial one. Somewhere, not all that far away, was the world I’d left; a world I was afraid I would have to re-enter at some point.

As there was only one way in or out of the village, the motorbike must have belonged to one of the villagers. That in itself wasn’t strange, motorbikes were pretty much the only way in or out, unless you fancied a spine-breaking cycle ride along the pockmarked track, or a three hour walk. Heading out at three in the morning was a bit odd, however.

I was awake enough to know that I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now, so I headed back inside and loaded up my coffee machine; watching the locally roasted beans grinding down softly, listening to the soft gurgle of water filtering through the grounds, wincing at the loudness of the steam punching through the milk, smiling involuntarily at the splash of the pumpkin spice syrup. After sprinkling on some cinnamon power, I reached for the TV remote, put on CNN and stepped back outside with my latte.

Despite the wind, the tranquillity of the village life was undeniable. I had never known simplicity like it, even in my mountaineering days, camped high on some peak with just the gear in my tent and a snow melter, the only person on a remote mountain in the middle of the Terra Del Firma. Even then I had all my gear; down suit, goggles, ice axes, willow wands, double boots (plastic outer, foam-lined inner) that insulated me both physically and mentally against the environment. I was not living some mountain life, I was transient, passing through. Although I always found a piece of mind on the high slopes and ice fields, I knew that I was not staying, that this was not and never could be my home.

I had tried to make a life in the mountains.

The long trek back to Lhasa ten years ago, walking along the Godwin-Antwi glacier, through the Vale of Caldor and the Pass of Caradhras, had given me time to think. Time to process all that had happened on Kangleong, but also to consider what my life would be. Something had changed in me during that time on the mountain. Beforehand I had been an ambitious, free-spirited rock and ice climber, used to dicey pitches on exposed granite, not afraid of leads up to 5.16B; happy to front point up a frozen waterfall like Bridaveil or Victoria Falls. I had next to no experience on high peaks, and little experience climbing at altitude. I certainly had never spent any length of time on a mountain in one go; I enjoyed fast and light ascents of rock walls such as the Eiger Nordwand and the North Face of Berghaus.

Kangleong had been my first real expedition; my first time in the death zone. My first prolonged period at altitude, suffering the debilitating effects of oxygen deprivation. The first real time where things had gone wrong.

And things had gone wrong. Badly wrong.

Truth be told, I’d barely made it off the mountain alive. An ankle badly broken, storms which battered the slopes, avalanches, serac falls. Not to mention the deaths of the entire Korean team, as well as several climbers we knew. All in all, sixty-eight people had gone to climb Kangleong and not returned home, their names punched into metal plates which now hung from the Art Gilkey memorial, a stone cairn near base camp.

Two names on the memorial I had punched in myself: Adam Ewart and Ifan Thorne. Their names hung there still. For a while I thought they had died, until I discovered the truth; that they were not the people I thought they were, that they had hidden their real purpose on Kangleong, and that I was now bound to their deception whether I liked it or not.

I had plenty of time to think on the way home; on the trek, on the flight to Islamabad, on the last leg of them all, the flight to London. To consider the story that I would tell and what sort of life I wanted to live next.

It turned out I would have little choice in that matter.

Kangleong may have been a remote peak in the Karakoram, far from the glamour of Everest, K2 or Cirith Gorgor, but the disaster on the mountain had made the news across the world. To have been, in essence, the sole western survivor brought incredible scrutiny on me. Endless questions as to what happened; meetings in the Korean embassy; press stalking me at home; the pressure was unbearable. I tried to retreat to the thing I knew best: climbing.

Unfortunately I had reckoned without the reaction of the climbing community, colleagues I had known and respected for years, who had accompanied me on numerous climbs.

It started with an innocuous column in Outside magazine, authored by Joe Simpson, who claimed that my account of what had happened bore remarkable similarity to Touching the Void, No Way Down, Dark Summit and Into Thin Air. Furthermore, he asserted that I should have done more to rescue Adam and Ifan, rather than going on about my broken foot, an injury he described as ‘commonplace in the mountains’. Whilst a single article might have been easy to dismiss, a groundswell of opinion was forming which disputed that we’d even summited Kangleong at all. Although we’d all taken pictures, I hadn’t realised that my Instagram page had been suspended in the days prior, and as a result the photos did not upload. I therefore had little to show for the months I spent on the mountain, and all the deaths I had witnessed.

The interest in me grew; the clients I’d booked on my first expedition under the banner of my new company, Mountain Stupidity (admittedly poorly named), dropped out, one by one. At the same time, high-profile climbers were lining up to criticise me. Adrian Ballinger, Simone Moro, Lewis Hamilton, Carla Perez, they had all been asked to give their views and each condemned me. Although I tried to ignore their comments, it had begun to take a toll on me mentally and physically. However, it was a subsequent interview that struck the final, conclusive hammer blow.

“I don’t like sitting in judgement of other mountaineers. Everyone has their own margin of safety, their own level of acceptable risk. Throughout my career I’ve refrained from commenting on others’ decisions. Just because I might not do the same thing, doesn’t mean that they’re wrong. Veikka and I turned back from a slope I considered too avalanche-prone on Annapurna in 2002. JC Lafaille climbed through the slope and made the summit. Different climbers make different decisions. However, in the case of the so-called ‘disaster’ on Kangleong, it’s pretty clear to me that rudimentary mistakes were made. Why were they so reliant on fixed ropes? Why didn’t they place enough willow wands? And it comes down squarely on Casey’s shoulders. You have a responsibility to yourself and to your climbing companions. After all, getting to the top is optional; getting down…”

I had stopped reading there. Ed Viesturs’ damning judgement fell over me like a thundercloud. I knew then that I could no longer expect to make a career from climbing. My sponsors Mountain Equipment, La Sportiva and Active Recovery no longer were interested in continuing our relationship. I packed up my things, sold my house and left the country I had called home and the life that was all I knew.

I travelled for three years; picking up odd jobs here and there, trying to find a purpose for myself. Nothing seemed to stick. Washed up and despairing, I found myself back in the Pink Flamingo in Kathmandu.

Nothing had changed since I’d been there five years previously. Aimless and without ideas, I found a secluded corner, ordered a bottle of Harbour Reef and sat down. The bar was pretty empty; the only patrons a few hard-core climbers from Eastern Europe, trying winter ascents of Himalayan peaks. I heard one of them mention Death Mountain, not too far from Goron City. This was one of the peaks Adam had climbed early on in his career. I wondered now whether that was true, or part of his deception.

For hours I drank slowly and in solitude. I felt I had reached the end of the road. Maybe I could pick up some work here; maybe I could just find a quiet corner of the city and live out my days here. I sank further into the beer. The bar began to blur. I remember someone trying to help me stand up, staggering forward, and then darkness.

I woke to the sound of a fan spinning above me. My head felt like it had been split open. I struggled to focus on anything in the room I was lying in; I was on a mattress on a concrete floor; apart from this and the fan there was nothing else in the room.

I didn’t know how long I’d been lying there for. Moving was agony. I tried to sit up but couldn’t make even that small effort. Defeated, I sank back down into the mattress and stared at the fan, its rotations syncing with the thumping in my head.

Some time later I heard the door open. I felt, rather than saw, people come in. One of them placed a jug of something and a mug on the floor next to me, then left the room. The other just stood in a corner.

“It’s tea,” the person said, in a voice I recognised. “Drink. It will help.”

With what seemed like a gargantuan effort, I rolled to one side and managed to drink from the mug. Warm liquid flushed through my body. I placed the mug back down and lay breathless on my side.

“Just relax for a moment,” the person said. “You’re free of the alcohol”.

I touched my face with my hand and moaned.

“Shhh,” said the person. “You have hibernation sickness. Or a hangover.”

“I can’t see”, I said.

“Your eyesight will return in time.”

“Where I am?”

“My house.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone who loves you.”

“Pasang?” I said, incredulously.

There was a soft laugh as the person stepped forward and crouched down next to the mattress. His face came into focus.

“Pasang!”

Pasang Sherpa. The lead climbing Sherpa from our expedition to Kathmandu. I don’t know how many times I had spoken his name in the telling of the story on the mountain. His dramatic individual rescues of Adam, Ifan and myself were legendary. The fact that he’d set my broken ankle with rudimentary surgery involving willow wands and three pitons defied belief. But he was the reason I could walk. Pasang had organised all our logistics, accompanied us throughout the entire trip, and stayed with me whilst the avalanche took – or so I thought – Adam and Ifan off the slopes. I couldn’t have imagined the whole thing without him.

He’d left me at Base Camp, dealing with the rest of the four hundred Sherpa that had supported our climb; I’d assumed I wouldn’t see him again. But here he was.

For the next two years I stayed at Pasang’s house whilst he nursed me back to health. After fourteen Iboga treatments and several colonics I felt fit and ready to live my life. It was Pasang who made me believe in myself again; made me realise that there was still a place for me in the world.

I started climbing again; Pasang’s extensive network of Sherpa guaranteed that I would have a partner on the slopes. I deliberately sought out remote peaks where I would be sure we would have the mountain to ourselves. First I climbed the Diamir Face of Ouanoukrim with Lobsang Sherpa, a feat we managed in a single thirteen hour push. Sadly on the descent, Lobsang was hit by rockfall. I lowered his body into a crevasse.

Then I moved across to Mount Toubkal, a little known peak in the Andes, with Little Tenzing Sherpa. Although we made it to 34000 ft, we were caught in a storm for fifteen days and were forced to retreat, but not before Little Tenzing succumbed to HAPE. I lowered his body into a crevasse.

I pioneered the first ascent of Greenland’s highest peak, Crib Goch, moving fast and light up the heavily corniced ridge with Nirmal Sherpa. It was on the ridge, coming back down, that Nirmal fell 15000ft down a knife-edge slope. Although I managed to halt his slide with the rope that held us together, Nirmal bruised his spine. I lowered his body into a crevasse.

After these expeditions, Pasang informed me that three houses in a remote village had become available; the village was home to a community of climbing Sherpa. Although I had been happy living at Pasang’s house, in truth things had become frayed between us, due in part to my insistence of pointing out abandoned railway lines. The timing therefore was opportune. It was time for me to commit to my new life, living amongst the only people who had truly ever accepted me for who I was.

I chose one of the vacant huts and moved my meagre possessions in. It would be a simple existence; no electricity, no running water. I would be completely cut off from the modern world but I believed that was what I needed. And for the next three years I lived in happy, tranquil solitude, far from the trappings of modern life.

And now I sat on my veranda, drinking the last of my pumpkin spice latte, unaware that my peaceful life would be shattered in a way that I would never had imagined.

I put my mug down and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of the village. Then something else caught my attention. A snippet of a phrase coming from the TV. Slowly, I eased myself back off the chair and wandered back into my hut, where CNN was showing on the TV.

“We’re getting reports of a large earthquake in the Karakoram region of the Himalaya, a region containing some of the world’s highest mountains, such as K2, Broad Peak and Kangleong. At present it is unclear what destruction, if any, the earthquake has caused.”

An earthquake, in the Karakoram?

It didn’t make sense. Of all the regions in the world, the Karakoram mountains were the last place I expected an earthquake. The unique geology of that region, with large, pyramid-like peaks anchored deep into the earth, made it famously stable and secure. In all of recorded history there had been no record of any earthquake there. It was unheard of.

I stared blankly at the screen, unable to process the news. The story might have seemed innocuous to most of CNN’s viewers but it had left me dumbfounded. My close ties to the Karakoram made it so. What could have happened there?

Shaking, I moved back to the coffee machine. As the beans were grinding I poured myself a glass of water from the mixer tap I’d recently had installed and downed it, followed by another. It was as if my past were returning to haunt me. I placed my mug down on the table and it fell to the floor, shattering like glass. I swore, crouching down with the dustpan and brush to sweep it all up. As I did, I stopped. I was aware of something different about the room, something foreign in there. I placed down the dustpan and brush, slowly stood and turned round.

Standing at the doorway to my hut was Adam.

“Hello mate,” he said.

#Vertical Summit 2

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offpier33 · 5 years ago

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daveywankenobie · 6 years ago

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So – January is over.

As innocuous as it seemed at first, this turned out to be a completely fantastic but also extremely challenging month. I enjoyed almost every moment of it, but from an emotional perspective I’m still glad it’s over and done with.

All of a sudden the calendar has flipped over and presented me with a fresh page containing 28 new little blank squares. Only one is filled at the moment and it’s a biggie.

On the 24th it will be ONE WHOLE YEAR since I hit target at Slimming World.

This is particularly significant because there has NEVER been a single period of my life where my weight has remained stable for so long. Try as I might I can’t actually remember ANY length of time when it didn’t immediately rebound upwards after any transient period of healthy eating or weight loss.

I always crash dieted then started ‘eating normally again’.

The truth was that I’d always failed to recognise previously that I never ate normally in the first place, and therefore all that I was really saying was ‘I’m about to return to bingeing on crap and drinking myself to death’.

I don’t do this any more though and I’ve had to admit over the last few years that even now I occasionally still struggle with the definition of ‘normal’.

The war is therefore not won.

I’m still trying to balance my food intake – thanks largely to recent changes in my usual daily exercise regimes (which make me even more hungry than usual) and a more varied personal schedule that’s reduced attendance at my normal Saturday group.

This Saturday is no exception (I’m not weighing in today) and if I want to be in target by the 24th I’m going to have to watch myself like a hawk in the coming weeks.

Once I’ve done that will I get to hold a diamond target membership badge – which represents proof positive (to me at least) that I’m capable maintaining the health and fitness levels I have now for the rest of my life.

When (not if – because I’m going to do it) I pin this to my lapel it will prove emphatically that I can deal with both the highs and the lows of life and not turn to the wrong things for comfort.

It will state in no uncertain terms that I have finally changed for good. I’m on a mission and it doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing because I need to remain focused.

Once again this week I’ve been in Sussex (a long way away from my usual routines) and trying hard not to slip into a holiday mode. So far I’ve been a good boy – and have kept one thought at the forefront of my mind.

Where there are pavements there are opportunities to burn calories.

At the moment the ones in Sussex may be a little slippery and treacherous but they’re absolutely beautiful.

When there are sunrises like this framing a frosty treeline it’s not really that much of a hardship to get out and about – even early in the morning.

For once the temperature isn’t really getting to me. Whilst it’s really really cold at the moment a few months ago I invested in a pair of thermal long johns – and boy was the purchase worthwhile!!

When I arrived in Sussex on Wednesday it was just a teeny bit frosty – but eventually (just like everywhere else in the UK) snow arrived to properly whiten my surroundings.

I’m just thankful that we aren’t experiencing the same kind of conditions as parts of America mind you – because they seem to have it bad.

Even though I don’t have to deal with minus twenty six degrees in Hell it’s at times like these that I’m really glad that I’ve learned the importance of layering outdoors gear.

While a big thick coat might seem like the answer in weather like this, more often than not when you’re walking it really isn’t. Invariably you’ll always get hot and want to take something off (as one of my regular ‘thermostaically challenged’ twalking companions will attest to.)

If all of your warmth potential is contained within one item then you’ve just lost the lot. Now when I’m out and about in this kind of weather (as well as my long johns) I wear a moisture wicking long sleeved Berghaus top, a light long sleeved zip neck fleece pullover and a down (roll packable) jacket with a hood.

When it comes to a place like Brighton (which I visited again on Thursday) this is REALLY worthwhile because around the shops and city centre there’s only the temperature to contend with – but when you hit the seafront the wind is relentless.

At times it threatened to take me off my feet – and capturing a selfie with my phone wobbling back and forth in my hand was actually rather difficult to do.

Despite its climactically capricious nature though I’m starting to rather like the place.

I’ve come to the conclusion (particularly now that I’ve found all the charity shops) that there are few real (what I would call) bargains to be found within its city limits. There are however many many kitsch things to fill your life with if you have peculiar enough taste and the shelf space to accommodate them.

Prices down south definitely do not mirror the ones in the charity shops of Warwickshire. All you have to do is glance in the window of an estate agent to see why this is.

There’s a huge disparity between the social classes there – and this is most apparent both in the cost of real estate and the tastes of those that inhabit it.

Here flamboyant wealth often stands side by side with grinding poverty (as the vagrants hoovering up the free coffee in Waitrose demonstrated) but the more well off residents of Brighton and Hove don’t like to appear too wealthy.

Their clothing choices (mirroring their furnishing ones) seem markedly different to the infinitely more reserved Warwickians that I’m used to. People with money in this region prefer to dress with more a more… bohemian vibe, and often the well off ones look pretty much the same as the poor ones.

Often the only thing missing from the rich ones seems to be a can of strong cider and a sleeping bag.

Those with enough money to look poor and eccentric make significant effort to do so – and the vendors in places like ‘Snoopers Paradise’ are keen (at a price) to cater to their lower rent tastes.

Because it’s so varied I tend to love pretty much everything I find in Brighton but sadly I can afford virtually none of it – and I’m definitely going to need a job before I can develop a different attitude toward the markets and stalls I’ve found so far.

All in all I walked about eight miles around the various different parts of Brighton on Thursday – and whilst this is was partially due to my willingness to explore thrift stores it’s also because I’m driven by my stats.

As always I’m pretty obsessive about what I do every month – and even while I’m away from home the idea of my averages slipping is something that drives me quietly potty.

Thankfully there’s a leisure centre with a swimming pool near to where I’m staying – and on Thursday morning I popped in for a dip. Oddly this is a variable length pool with a large boom at one end that can be moved up and down the breadth of its run.

This changes the distance you swim from 33m to 25m or back again, depending on the time of day you visit. In the space it creates when shifted up a bit (when I visited) there was a spirited aquafit class led by a very loud woman bouncing back and forth in gaudy leggings and trainers on the side of the pool. On Thursday morning her group was positively crammed with pensioners waving pieces of foam around their heads and under water.

It’s quite unusual to have music pumping away in the background while I swim – but not entirely unwelcome. Since I still don’t do breaststroke with my head under the water it meant that I could rhythmically paddle away to the beat.

Time consequently flew by while I was there.

One thing this definitely made me realise was just how good my local facilities are after their recent refurbishment. Whilst water is water and I’m happy to just pound out the lengths anywhere the changing rooms, lighting, fixtures and general tone of The Dolphin pale in comparison to St Nicholas.

Either way – using it has enabled me to maintain my average daily distance total for swimming – which I’m very pleased to report is for January is just under 1.5km per day.

I’ve let things with my walking slide a little since November because of the extra swimming I’m doing – and whilst I really wanted to keep it at the same level the truth is it’s simply unsustainable.

If I do I’ll just end up running myself ragged trying to do too much, losing all enjoyment in it – or even worse pull or strain something.

Even so I think I’m still doing pretty darned well with my mies per day average…

Overall this means that whilst my daily exercise minutes are roughly the same, my average active calories burned has increased noticeably from where it was in October.

Compared to March last year I’m burning almost 800kcal extra per day.

So – all is good – and I’m on track for my diamond target member badge. Over the coming weeks you can probably expect to hear much much more about this as I near the moment and at some point have the occasional worry or stress!

Watch this space internet!

Davey

The next milestone So - January is over. As innocuous as it seemed at first, this turned out to be a completely fantastic but also…

#Fitness #Health #Slimming World #swimming #walking #Weight loss

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its-in-his-dna · 5 years ago

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Return To Kili Photoshoot | Fifth Member Inspired

Yellow Gold Diamonds Love Ring SM: $4,500

Yellow Gold Diamond Juste Un Clou Ring: $3,800

Yellow Gold Diamonds Cactus De Cartier Ring: $3,500

Yellow Gold 1895 Band: $1,110

Tephra Stretch Reflect Down Insulated Jacket: £170

Black Pocket Detail Cargo Pants: $21

Mistral GTX: $180

#little mix #jade thirlwall #leigh anne pinnock #fifth member #fifth member 2019 #cartier #ring #berghaus #pretty little thing #scarpa #jacket #pants #trousers #cargo pants #cargo trousers #boots

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mikewilsontravels · 7 years ago

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Taupo

I know what you’re thinking. Taupo isn’t on the Te Araroa route! What are you doing in Taupo?

You’re right. We shouldn’t be here. But we are. My Berghaus boots, bought new for this trip, weren’t keeping my feet as dry as they should have been. So we came to Taupo for replacements. It’s not the most obvious place for a shopping trip as we’ve actually come back up the country, but we met a guy a few days ago who manages the hiking & camping department in the local branch of Hunting and Fishing. He gave us 15% off.

So, what’s been happening? We marched out of Te Kuiti last Saturday and started walking down the Mangaokewa River. This was all very scenic and pleasant until it started chucking it down and the trail deteriorated into an assault course. At points the “path” was less than the width of my boot. At others it simply collapsed, spilling me down the bank towards the river. It was the usual story. Fallen trees, runaway gorse bushes, hidden boggy bits that went up to your knees, killer sharks. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but not by much.

So we got soaked and had to camp by the river as we couldn’t get off the trail. The next day we were forced to put all our wet gear back on. It’s still a bit chilly at night, so you can’t risk getting more clothes wet. What would you wear at the end of the day?

Next up was the famous Timber Trail. At the trailhead campsite a Kiwi couple took pity on us and invited us over to their massive campervan for cheese and wine. This invite was soon upgraded to a cooked dinner. (The generosity of New Zealanders has been a theme of late.)

The Timber Trail is an 84km cycle track through the Pureora Forest. The trail is in pretty great shape for the most part. Only the detour to the summit of Mount Pureora and the short track to the Bog Inn Hut bear the craptacular hallmarks of the Te Araroa.

The Timber Trail is supposed to be 4 days on foot, but Lucy and I boshed out days 3 and 4 in a oner. 43km is a big day and we were utterly knackered when we reached the Bennett Road campsite near Ongarue. We weren’t even going to bother pitching the tent as the smart new cooking shelter seemed more than adequate for the night.

I’d just made a cup of tea for Lucy who was slumped on the floor when Cliff stopped by to say hello. Cliff is the farmer who has kindly allowed the Te Araroa Trust to put the campsite on his land. He was very chatty and asked if we had any energy left. We said we didn’t, but when he mentioned “spider cars”, my interest piqued. Cliff seems to have a finger in many pies. One such pie is being the NZ importer of Swincar’s E-spider, a revolutionary electric offroad vehicle. Long story short, within 15 minutes the three of us were racing around the farm in the only spider cars in the southern hemisphere. How much fun are they? Well, all aches, pains and fatigue temporarily melted away as we sharpened our skills tackling increasingly challenging manoeuvres. Or just doing donuts.

Cliff offered us the use of the shower in the farmhouse, so we drove down to the campsite in the Swincars to get some clean clothes. At this point Leanne, the lady of the house, offered us one of the spare rooms and some venison. Kiwis! (Cliff lent me his BMW to go back for the rest of our gear.) After dinner entertainment was care of half a dozen or so escaped deer. Lucy partnered up with Cliff and I assisted Leanne in a well coordinated containment operation.

The next morning we were treated to a fine breakfast before receiving guided tours of the farm in a different offroad vehicle. (Cliff, it turns out, is something of a petrol head.)

And then we came to Taupo. Next up: the Tongariro Crossing.

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surviveuk · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://www.surviveuk.com/prepper-gear-reviews/la-sportiva-trango-review/

La Sportiva Trango Review

Specifically, these are the Tango TRX GTX and they are the cheapest of the Trango series, but that doesn’t mean they are in any way lacking as far as I’m concerned.

Well just as a starting point with these boots, they were some of the most comfortable I’ve ever put on out of the box. They are a combination of materials, including good ol’ Gore-Tex, and are available in several colours, although the majority of stockists sell them only in yellow or red. They feature things such as ‘TPU Thermo Tech Application’ and ‘Vibram Mulaz outsole with a technical edging platform’ which I have no idea what mean but, all add up to make a really comfortable and all-round practical boot.

I do have some expensive gear for when I’m out but I always spend the most on a good pair of boots. I’ve gone through Karrimor and Berghaus boots, along with others I can’t remember, and usually I just wear them until even 3 washes in a row cant make my family stop complaining about the smell but, with what I to do while I’m out and about in the wilderness, these are probably the most ideal boots I’ve come across. I do a bit of climbing up rock faces and some trekking through forests and over mountains and these boots seem to be a really good jack of all trades. As with the above mentioned technical features, they do have something I could at least figure out which is the ‘3D Flex’ insert. This goes all the way around the bottom of the boot and effectively ‘cups’ your whole foot in a slightly stiffer material for support. When I first put my foot in I noticed a stiffer heel support and eventually realised it extended around the base of my whole foot. My first thought was I would always ‘feel’ it while walking, which if you were me would be the worst feeling ever. I am the type who feels a tiny thread come loose in the boot and obsesses over it until I either remove my foot or remove half of the stitching and ultimately compromising the overall integrity of my footwear. With these it was a reassuring feel on the few occasions that I did notice it, but generally I couldn’t tell it was there.

For a start there is a small patch near the toes of tread that is designed around climbing. Its called the ‘climbing zone’ and it has no flex in it which gives you an excellent

surface to get your toes into crevices, while climbing, that is as solid as the rock you will be stood on. I don’t do anything extreme these days, like free climbing, but for my general scaling of smaller cliffs I would be more than happy wearing these.

There is one thing that I find the most useful out of all of its features for my ventures. These are Gore-Tex and waterproof. I didn’t intentionally test this feature out however, while getting some photos for some waterproof backpacks on a river, I did slip and go in more than ankle deep. I have a pair of full leather Magnums (advertised as waterproof) that go much higher up my leg and they have soaked my feet in less so I was expecting there to be a very wet foot at the end of my leg, but it was completely dry. I know it sounds strange to say that I was shocked that a waterproof boot was waterproof, but with every pair I’ve ever owned what happened that day would never have resulted in a dry foot, and I am really pleased I have something I can rely on there.

Well I couldn’t say I usually test items as extensively as I have with these boots but, with footwear, it has to deal with whatever you come across for every second you are out in the world. So it can be

anything from a small puddle or a fallen tree, to a raging river or land slide. These have encountered pretty much all of that (the landslide wasn’t happening at the time but I did make my way over a recent slide) and at no point was I aware that I was testing a pair of new boots. I’ve worn these over 80 miles of Welsh mountains with, at times, a very heavy pack and they just felt like some boots I’d had for years and knew inside out. This may be the first ‘real’ pair of hiking boots I’ve ever owned and I certainly wont be looking at any others for a long time. There are some things I would alter on this shoe if I was making it for myself, but really I would probably just make them worse. These were the TRK GTX version of the Trango although there are other versions (more expensive) that are available with slightly different styling or materials, but they are all basically the same boot. I couldn’t recommend these boots more highly, they are absolutely superb and worth every penny you spend on them.

User Rating: Be the first one !

La Sportiva Trango Review

About the Author

Sgt. Prepper

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Bushcraft and survival veteran. I have skills ranging from friction fire to hunting and tracking. Also I'm a prolific lover. Better than Gav. Motto: Don't bring it if you don't want to carry it.

#Footwear Review #La Sportiva #prepper gear review #t Review

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offpier33 · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://www.chieffee.co.uk/product/womens-ladies-leather-slippers-slip-on-shoes-mules-sandals-flip-flop-beach-sandals-summer-by-lilicat-blue/

Womens Ladies Leather Slippers Slip On Shoes Mules Sandals Flip Flop Beach Sandals Summer by LILICAT Blue

Description :

Gender: women / Gril

Upper: Pu

Sole material: rubber

Lining material: PU

Insole material: rubber

Season: Spring / Fall / Summer time

Style: Casual, Fashion, College

Foot style: round

Graduation Method: Slip-On

Heel height style: flat

Footwear heel high: 3 cm

Platform height: 2.5 cm

Package: 1 set of footwear (excluding shoebox)

Size Feet length Feet width CN EU United kingdom US

35 22.5 cm / 8.9 8.5 cm / 3.4 35/225 35 4 5

36 23 cm / 9.1 8.5-9 cm / 3.4-3.5 36/230 36 4.5 5.5

37 23.5 cm / 9.3 9 cm / 3.5 37/235 37 5 6

38 24 cm / 9.5 9-9.5 cm / 3.5-3.7 38/240 38 5.5 6.5

39 24.5 cm / 9.7 9.5 cm / 3.7 39/245 39 6 7

40 25 cm / 9.8 9.5-10 cm / 3.7-3.9 40/250 40 6.5 7.5

41 25.5 cm / 10 10 cm / 3.9 41/255 41 7 8

42 26 cm / 10.2 10-10.5 cm / 3.9-4.1 42/260 42 7.5 8.5

Note: Please allow an average precision of one to two cm because of the manual measurement.

Book the dimensions chart before placing orders. If you’re not sure, please send us a note.

About Us: We’re a brand new store for display footwear, we’ve updated every single day the most recent fashion footwear.

Concerning the service: For those who have questions, please send us an e-mail first.

#Array

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offpier33 · 5 years ago

Photo

New Post has been published on https://www.chieffee.co.uk/product/women-sandals-flat-fashion-lace-up-casual-shoes-pumps-fish-mouth-beach-sandals-slip-on-sandals-by-lilicat-red/

Women Sandals Flat Fashion Lace-Up Casual Shoes Pumps Fish Mouth Beach Sandals Slip on Sandals by LILICAT Red

Description

Gender: Women

Upper Material:PU

Sole Material: Rubber

Insole Material:PU

Appropriate Scenes:Outside,Fashion,Leisure

Style: Casual,Simple

Foot Style: Peep Foot

Closing Method:Zip

Heel High Style:Mediterranean

Footwear Heel High: 5cm/1.96”

Platform Heigh:.5cm/.9”

Package:1 Pair Women Footwear(Excluding Shoesbox)

Size Feet Length Feet wide CN EU United kingdom US

35 22.5CM/8.9″ 8.5cm/3.3″ 225 35 4 5

36 23cm/9.1″ 8.5-9cm/3.3-3.5″ 230 36 4.5 5.5

37 23.5cm/9.3″ 9cm/3.5″ 235 37 5 6

38 24cm/9.5″ 9-9.5cm/3.5-3.7″ 240 38 5.5 6.5

39 24.5cm/9.7″ 9.5cm/3.7″ 245 39 6 7

40 25cm/9.8″ 9.5-10cm/3.7-3.9″ 250 40 6.5 7.5

41 25.5cm/10″ 10cm/3.9″ 255 41 7 8

42 26cm/10.2″ 10-10.5cm/3.9-4.1″ 260 42 7.5 8.5

43 26.5cm/10.4″ 10.5cm/4.1″ 265 43 8 9

#Array

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offpier33 · 5 years ago

Photo

New Post has been published on https://www.chieffee.co.uk/product/womens-ladies-cross-strap-sequin-latin-salsa-ballroom-dance-shoes-wedding-pumps-shoes-by-lilicat-black/

Women's Ladies Cross Strap Sequin Latin Salsa Ballroom Dance Shoes Wedding Pumps Shoes by LILICAT Black

Description :

Gender: women / Gril

Upper: household leather

Sole material: rubber

Lining material: PU

Insole material: PU

Season: Four Seasons / Spring / Fall / Summer time / Winter

Matching scenes: party / wedding

Style: Fashion, Elegant, Sexy

Foot style: round foot

Closure method: buckle

Heel High Style: Lace heels

Raise Up: NO

Pipe length: NO

Pipe circumference: NO

Footwear heel high: 5 cm

Platform height: .5 cm

Package: 1 set of footwear (excluding shoebox)

Size Feet length Feet width CN EU United kingdom US

35 22.5 cm / 8.9 “8.5 cm / 3.3” 225 35 4 5

36 23 cm / 9.1 “8.5-9 cm / 3.3-3.5” 230 36 4.5 5.5

37 23.5 cm / 9.3 “9 cm / 3.5” 235 37 5 6

38 24 cm / 9.5 “9 – 9.5 cm / 3.5 – 3.7” 240 38 5.5 6.5

39 24.5 cm / 9.7 “9.5 cm / 3.7” 245 39 6 7

40 25 cm / 9.8 “9.five to ten cm / 3.7 – 3.9” 250 40 6.5 7.5

41 25.5 cm / 10 “10 cm / 3.9” 255 41 7 8

#Array

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offpier33 · 5 years ago

Photo

New Post has been published on https://www.chieffee.co.uk/product/lilicat-mens-business-dress-shoes-mens-leather-wedding-shoes-formal-dress-shoes-size-5-5-10-5-pointed-head-men-shoes-a-pedal-casual-lazy-side-zipper-shoe/

LILICAT Mens Business Dress Shoes Mens Leather Wedding Shoes Formal Dress Shoes Size 5.5-10.5 Pointed Head Men Shoes A Pedal Casual Lazy Side Zipper Shoe

Description

Gender: men

Upper Material:PU

Sole Material: Rubber

Appropriate Occasion: Leisure, Banquet,

Scenes: Outside,Fashion,Leisure

Style: lace up

Foot Style:Pointed foot

Heel High Style:flat

Platform Heigh: 2cm

Package:1 Pair men Footwear(Excluding Shoebox)

Size(CN) Feet Length Feet wide EU United kingdom US

38 23.5-24cm/9.3-9.5″ 9-9.5cm/3.5-3.7″ 38-38.5 5-5.5 5.5-6

39 24-24.5cm/9.5-9.7″ 9.5cm/3.7″ 39 5.5-6 6.5

40 24.5-25cm/9.7-9.9″ 9.5-10cm/3.7-3.9″ 40 6 7

41 25-25.5cm/9.9-10.1″ 10cm/3.9″ 40.5 6.5 7.5

42 25.5-26cm/10.1-10.3″ 10-10.5cm/3.9-4.1″ 41 7 8

43 26-26.5cm/10.3-10.5″ 10.5cm/4.1″ 42 7.5 8.5

44 26.5-27cm/10.5-10.7″ 10.5-11cm/4.1-4.3″ 42.5 8 9

45 27-27.5cm/10.7-10.9″ 11cm/4.3″ 43 8.5 9.5

46 27.5-28cm/10.9-11.1″ 11-11.5cm/4.3-4.5″ 44 9 10

47 28-28.5cm/11.1-11.3″ 11.5cm/4.5″ 44.5 9.5 10.5

#Array

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offpier33 · 5 years ago

Photo

New Post has been published on https://www.chieffee.co.uk/product/womens-block-low-heel-flat-cut-out-peep-toe-ladies-hollow-ankle-strap-sandals-shoes-roman-boots-by-lilicat-brown/

Womens Block Low Heel Flat Cut Out PEEP Toe Ladies Hollow Ankle Strap Sandals Shoes Roman Boots by LILICAT Brown

Description :

Gender : Women

Upper Material :PU

Sole Material : Rubber

Lining Material :NO

Insole Material : PU

Season : Four seasons/Spring/Fall/Summer time

Appropriate Scenes : Outside/Everyday/Party/Wedding/Work/Leisure

Style : Casual,Fashion,College,Elegant

Foot Style :Round Foot

Closing Method : Zipper

Heel High Style :Square Heels

Increase High : NO

Tube length NO

Tube circumference : NO

Footwear Heel High : 5cm/1.96”

Platform Heigh : 1cm/.4”

Package : 1 Pair Footwear

Size Feet Length Feet wide CN EU United kingdom US

35 22.5cm/8.9″ 8.5cm/3.4″ 225/35 35 4 5

36 23cm/9.1″ 8.5-9cm/3.4-3.5″ 230/36 36 4.5 5.5

37 23.5cm/9.3″ 9cm/3.5″ 235/37 37 5 6

38 24cm/9.5″ 9-9.5cm/3.5-3.7″ 240/38 38 5.5 6.5

39 24.5cm/9.7″ 9.5cm/3.7″ 245/39 39 6 7

40 25cm/9.8″ 9.5-10cm/3.7-3.9″ 250/40 40 6.5 7.5

41 25.5cm/10″ 10cm/3.9″ 255/41 41 7 8

42 26cm/10.2″ 10-10.5cm/3.9-4.1″ 260/42 42 7.5 8.5

43 26.5cm/10.4″ 10.5cm/4.1″ 265/43 43 8 9

#Array

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