Map Writing

My family have never been precious about maps. In fact I grew up in a house with a bookshelf full of maps all covered in drawings and notes from my Dad’s rallying days. Most local walks were (and still are) done using maps with pencil and highlighter markings showing us welsh rally routes. Our European road maps have our holiday destinations highlighted with comments such as ‘nice beach here’, ‘good windsurfing’, ‘great restaurant’ and ‘expensive coffee.’ Maybe that is why all my OS maps are now folded beyond recognition, hole ridden and falling apart. People have been known to flinch at the permanent ink used, comments on landmarks and marked routes.

But I wouldn’t change any of them. Each map is a collection of memories, personalised with my experiences. A mud smeared pencil marked map is a relic from a journey, capable of evoking more memories than photographs. I’d rather buy a new map and end up with shelves full of archived expeditions, than rub away the traces of my journeys.

Long Long Mynd Hike

My Dad first attempted the Long Mynd Hike in 1996. The challenge is an 80km walk around the Shropshire Hills, for which you are given 24 hours to complete. Dad tried on and off over the following years and finally last year I decided to join him.

2011

He tried his best to prepare me for the challenge but ultimately nothing can prepare you as much as actually trying it. In fact I prepared very little and it showed. I had the wrong equipment on a ridiculously hot October day and made the mistake of checking my feet less than halfway round the route. One look at my weary blister ridden feet and I was on the mini bus waiting to be taken back to Church Stretton vowing I’d never do anything so painful ever again. Of course after a few days rest my feet were back to normal and clouds of doubt filled my head. Maybe it was just psychological? Maybe I could have carried on? I’m definitely doing it next year!

This time I bough better boots, socks and rucksack and I trained! I ran (I hate running) every other day for 2 months. I was going to finish it!

2012

My sister joined us for her first attempt, we tried with the same effort to prepare her and for a first attempt she did well, making 32km before retiring. Keeping Anna’s pace meant after her retirement my Dad and I had plenty of energy left to plod on into the night. Although my blister problem had been solved from the previous year a knee problem developed soon after the half way mark. I carried on regardless but inevitably gave up at 56km. I retired happy to see my Dad carry on into the distance as the sun rose. There was no stopping him.

My sister greeted me at the RV in the hike car park and we rested until 11am, by which time I could just about hobble and was cursing myself for giving up again. We made our way back to the hike headquarters to see if we could find out anything about Dad’s whereabouts. A quick radio check and yes number 076 was still walking and due to finish just before the 24 hour deadline.

I was beaming, bought a souvenir t-shirt and claimed my free breakfast! All of a sudden I didn’t care that I hadn’t finished, Dad was going to and I couldn’t be more proud.

We waited about an hour and went to the road just in time to see him appear in the distance. He practically hopped, skipped and jumped down the road to the finish looking bright and not at all like he had been walking for 23 and a half hours.

2013

On reflection I will be attempting again next year. I don’t care if it takes me until I’m 58, Dad’s determination has inspired me. The plan: to invest in some knee supports and walking poles and to do it solo. I might even do some more running, I can’t wait!

A Passion for Climbing

During my SPA training last weekend I met two twenty something climbers who live down south and had travelled up for the course based around Hathersage in Derbyshire. As I drove us to The Foundry from Stanage they chatted about the various climbing trips they had been on, both obviously really excited by climbing and willing to travel long distances to get as much experience as possible. They talked of leaving work early on a Friday to drive up north, spending the whole weekend camping and climbing and travelling back down last thing on a Sunday to work again Monday. Often they are beaten by the weather and would travel hours just to be rained off. Listening to them made me realise just how lucky I am to be living here in the midlands. Throughout the summer some of my colleagues and I travelled less than an hour in an evening after work to get a few hours climbing in before dark. But later it made me feel like I’m missing out, because I’m so close to these rocks I rarely make the effort to travel further and don’t get the bunk house experience. I’ve had a few weekends away, which have been amazing and I think they’ve inspired me to do it more often.

In a way they reminded me of an excerpt in Joe Brown’s Hard Years. I must admit although I appreciate the climbing he did I found a lot of the book to be laborious descriptions of climb after climb, that I’ll probably never be capable of ascending myself. But there was one section that really stuck out for me, it was where he talks about saving money in order to climb in the Alps for three months, for me this was the most inspiring section of the book. I’ve seen lots of places in magazines that I’d love to go and climb at but somehow felt that they were out of my reach, that they were for other people to climb, people with the money and time and the support of people that will go with them. After reading this passage those places suddenly felt a little closer, a little more achievable and I got the urge to make some plans. There is nothing set in stone yet and saving money is always something I aspire to, but I’m excited nonetheless.