hiking – Straight Walking – Live Better Coaching

Fan Llia, Bannau Brycheiniog

This trip was to Bannau Brycheiniog.

Specifically Fan Llia in the central part of the park was the destination for this particular trip, one which had a mixed bag of a start, but ended up being a very splendid hike and camp indeed.

It started as most of my hikes do, on the Friday when I usually travel to my destination, and although my trip went as well as could be expected, my buddy’s trip started well but ended up being something of a headache. As he got close to the park up, his Sat-Nav didn’t take him to the exact location we were supposed to meet, and in this remote location with poor signal he found himself flying around all over the place. However, after a little bit of exploring he finally found the spot, parked up, used a little bit of colourful language, and we both got ready for the hike up the hill.

Neither of us had been to this particular location before and we were both exited to see what we could see. As usual we had planned a route we thought would give us the best experience, but I don’t really think either of us expected to follow it precisely, we never do. But onwards and upwards we went following what we thought was the path, and in true hillwalking fashion it became a little bit sketchy from time to time, but nevertheless we made good time navigating back to the path whenever we found it, panting like a couple of old pit ponies.

Soon enough though we had made it to the first crest, and in the distance we saw the peak of the hill that was our destination. About another half an hour and we were there, and having already made the decision to spend the night there we started the usual hunt for the best spot to pitch. It had been raining quite a bit in the previous 24hrs and a lot of the area was still fairly soggy. But a bit of toing and froing later we had found what we considered to be the best spot. It was slightly down the ridge from the peak, well drained, and had great views. Besides it was getting dark and we were both pretty knackered from the long drive and starting to get hungry.

It didn’t take long to get pitched, it never does, we’re both pretty experienced and apart from a little bit of senior reconsideration regarding the exact position of the tent we both got the stoves lit, water boiled, and food eaten. Now, it’s usually at this point, after setting up, feeding, and starting to feel a bit more like social animals that we crack open the bar. Tonight was no exception. We both had our favourites with us, him with his 0% beer, and me with a fully leaded Rioja. It was either that or the Malbec because I brought two with me this time. Choices choices.

Being one of the quieter spots in the park, and nowhere near any of the honeypot locations that appeal to the Instagram generation, we knew that there would be no rush to get up and packed away in the morning, so we took full advantage and stayed up late chatting away about all the stuff you do on these occasions. After so many years of heading out on my own solo trips I now find having company a very pleasant change, and staying up late chatting outside somewhere remote in good company with a nice wine is one of the more pleasant parts of any trip these days.

But, at some point two tired old men went to bed and slipped into their respective pits for a well deserved and much needed sleep.

In true Brecon fashion, as anyone who has ever been there will tell you, the weather must have taken a bit of a turn in the night, because early in the morning there was almost zero visibility because of low cloud, and the rain had started to fall. Steadily at first, but then much heavier. Having been out for the usual morning relief and crawled back into my bag before the heavy rain started, I lay there listening to the tapping of the drops as they hit the fly, thinking that this was going to be a pretty miserable weekend getting soaked in the cold with no real means of drying off.

You see, I had made the unforgivable schoolboy error of not taking my waterproofs with me. Having diligently checked the mountain weather forecast for days beforehand, I felt confident that the rain had passed earlier and was going to be clear for the weekend. But this is Brecon, and no such assumptions should ever be made. Lady Wales is not generally known for going easy on folks like us, especially when we should know better.

Lying in my pit and listening to what was now hard rain, I felt my spirits drop and my mood changed to one of building up for the endurance challenge that lay ahead.

But as I said this is Brecon, and things change, usually quite quickly. For about 15 mins the rain came down hard, and then as quickly as the downpour started, it stopped. Thinking I needed to take advantage of the pause I got myself up and started to make a brew while I got properly dressed, but as I did this the most amazing thing happened. The cloud we were in cleared away leaving some spectacular views to the lake below and across to the other side of the valley. Not only that, but the cloud at altitude started to part and diminish as well, bringing with it the hopeful rays of early morning sunlight. The Skylarks wasted no time whatsoever in lifting themselves into the air and singing for all they were worth.

For me, the song of the Skylark is synonymous with hiking, summer, and all that’s good with the world. For most of the year they can be heard singing their hearts out wherever you go, and I have had the pleasure of their company during some of the best and worst moments in my life. So whenever I can hear their song, I know I’m in the right place at the right time. And on this morning they heralded what was to become a stunningly beautiful morning.

With my brew in hand I stood there and just took it all in, the views, the peace, and the warmth of the sun as the breeze began to drop. I was in my church.

Not long after that my buddy woke and started to make moves. A bit of a chat about the rain etc. and before we knew it breakfast was on the go.

Now, this is something I really do have to talk about. Breakfast. For many years breakfast was porridge, basic simple, filling. Then came the all day breakfast MRE, a good another reasonable choice if you like that sort of thing, and I’ve been having these for a while now, and I’ve been happy with them.

The last time I went out with my buddy he gave me one of his pocket eggs to include into the MRE, and I have to say that it gave the experience a whole new dimension. It added more texture and taste, and made it even more filling, and so this weekend the egg was added again. Only this time another addition was made. Along with the pocket eggs my buddy had brought some of those fancy meat crisps made from real pancetta, or chorizo, with the intention of adding those to the MRE along with the egg.

What was created can only be described as the very best breakfast meal I have ever had on any hill anywhere, ever. This is no exaggeration, I can honestly say that what I ate that morning was nothing short of spectacular. A basic mylar bag of baked beans with skull scraping sausage, fatty bacon bits, and reconstituted egg is normally a good start to any hikers day. But with the addition of a pocket egg and a bag of dried meaty crisps, elevated this breakfast bag into something truly incredible. I heartily recommend it to anyone willing to give it go, you will not be disappointed.

So, after the hearty repast above we steadily packed up our kit (we were in no rush) and made our way back to the top of the ridge and headed out for the day. Our planned route was a simple figure of eight, along the ridge, around the head of the valley to the other side then across it going down then back up, to a point where we would cross our initial path on the ridge, then back to the vehicles after spending another night somewhere.

But like most of our walks this was only guidance, and not a detailed route to be precisely followed.

The first part of the walk that morning took us along the main ridge which was fairly easy going to be fair, and we made good progress as we chatted away.

By the time we had made it to the head of the valley we were feeling ready for a break and something to eat. So we took our packs off, settled down, and I got a brew on the go. Along the way we were keeping an eye out for likely spots to pitch for the night and decided that we would continue on for a while given that there was still plenty of daylight left, and make our way back to somewhere near to where we were and pitch for the night. A sound plan indeed.

The weather had only improved during the day. The temperature had risen and the wind dropped even further, making the walk incredibly pleasant. With barely a cloud in the sky the April sun shone down on us, beating off the usual chill that would normally accompany this time of year. Cool enough not to sweat profusely, warm enough to not need many layers, and the bright sun just lit up the landscape before us, affording some incredible views of Fan Brycheiniog to the west, and Corn Ddu and Pen Y Fan to the east.

So after a bit of food and a brew, we hitched up and set off to roughly where we were supposed to be going around the head of the valley. Once on the other side, and having had a closer look at the next stage of the walk the decision was made to alter the route so that we would end up where we wanted to be and at the time we wanted to be there. So instead of climbing the hill facing us we set off down into the valley with the intention of crossing at the bottom and making our way back up towards the head.

As I said before, this was not one of the more popular areas and as such from this point on the paths, which were not always clear anyway, became impossible to follow, and ultimately ran out. We were in CRoW designated land, and as such we were permitted to walk where we liked (but always with due care and consideration), and wandered our way down the valley side to where a number of water features made navigation a tad more interesting than we bargained for, but undeterred we carried on winding our way through the long grass and over the odd water feature heading back uphill towards our pitch for that night.

After about four false crests we finally found a suitable spot and busied ourselves getting set up, pitching tents, laying out sleep kit and readying the stoves. We’d actually made pretty good time and had set up well before dark which gave us an opportunity for a well deserved nap.

One of the very best things (amongst many others) about being in one of the more remote and less visited areas is the ability to pitch early and really enjoy the area without the scornful looks of passing hikers heaping judgement upon you. I know it’s not really the done thing, but pitching early means you can really relax, unwind, and appreciate the views in peace with a good feed and a mug of something nice.

The sun as it fell behind the hills to the west was nothing short of magical, providing a show of yellows and oranges that left us watching until there was nothing left to see but the stars and the satellites. After a lot more chatting and a bit more wine it was time for bed again thinking I was in for another great night’s sleep. I could not have been more wrong.

I spent the entire night waking every few minutes (at least that what it felt like) feeling incredibly cold on my legs. Normally I get changed into my thermal long johns and a matching top, crawl into my bag and sleep like a baby. Wearing the thermals inside my bag that has a comfort rating of –3c keeps me warm and toasty even on very cold nights, especially as my sleeping pad is rated at 7.5r. Unfortunately, I broke with tradition and left my base layer, mid layer, and fleece on, probably because I was very sleepy and didn’t think about it. My schoolboy error meant that my top half (my core) heated up incredibly, while my legs had to deal with a huge temperature difference leaving them feeling as though they were incredibly cold, which of course they were not.

A lesson re-learned for sure; a layer against the skin, a good bag, and a good pad is more than enough to keep you warm even in low temperatures. Not only that, but you should also keep your layers even, so you don’t overheat one area of the body.

What that all meant, was that in the morning I felt really tired and basically crashed for about an hour after eating breakfast.

I felt a lot better once I awoke and made my apologies for delaying our morning. Embarrassing as it was, it was a lesson learned (again), and I vowed never to make it again. Trust your kit and keep your wits about you.

Anyway, we finally got packed up and worked out the best direction to head off that would take us back to the ridge we started on, and started walking. Getting back to the main path was no real issue, a bit uphill, a bit of long grass, and a couple of hundred metres and we there. And so it was for a while at least. But as I mentioned before, this was an area that was less travelled and it wasn’t too long before the path kind of disappeared. Not in an abrupt way, more like it just fizzled out. But we knew which direction to go so there was no issue, it’s just that a track or path can make the going so much easier than walking through long grass on uneven terrain, and is therefore always desirable if possible.

However, for the life of us we couldn’t quite make out where the path was and so we headed out thinking we would pick it up later, which of course we did, but not after realising it was there all the time, we just didn’t see it for what it was and spent time on a harder path than was necessary. All part of the fun I guess.

The rest of the walk back was uneventful in terms of any mistakes or lost paths etc. But was glorious due to the sun pouring down on us and the spectacular views of the area. In usual fashion we made good progress and decided to take a breather at the cairn at the peak of Fan Llia. Packs off, sat down on a rock seat, the views down to the lake and across the valley were well worth the effort to get there, and we spend a few relaxing minutes refuelling and resting our weary bodies.

The area at the top has a plethora of small rain pools that must be quite persistent, because a few of them had spawn and tadpoles in them, and we saw a lizard/newt type of creature scitter away in front of us before we had a chance to get a good look. All of which meant that there is a thriving ecosystem based on clean replenished water, untainted by any kind of pollution. A heartwarming thought for sure.

It’s moments like these that make it all worthwhile, being there in a spectacular location, present in the moment, with no other considerations to distract from the effect it has on the soul. Life affirming stuff for sure.

But as with all trips, it had to come to an end, and so we lifted our packs onto our tired old bodies and began the journey downhill, back to where we had parked, and after another few minutes of losing the path and then finding it again towards the bottom of the hill, we finally made it back to the vehicles.

This moment always carries with it mixed emotions. A touch of sadness that another great hike and camp has come to an end, relief that I can take off the pack and not have to lift it again and change my boots for some softer footwear. But happiness at having completed a good workout, seen some great things, and now get to travel home, back to our loved ones.

This was another great example of how your mood can change in a short period of time depending on conditions and circumstances, and of how lessons can be learned and relearned. Of how being in the present moment brings peace and calm, and reminds me of how important the simple thing in life are.

I hope I never take it for granted, or forget just how important these environments are, and I hope above all else that I continue to enjoy them for as many years to come as I can mange.

Until next time.

A note on the kit I took.

This time I took my 3FUL Taiji 2 tent with the replacement poles. It’s supplied with reasonable 8mm Ali poles, but with it being a decent size dome tent, 8mm poles can have a tendency to flex a bit too much in wind. So some a while ago I purchased some replacement 10mm poles that fit perfectly, and double guyed the lines. This simple modification has made this tent incredibly stable in wind, not Hilleberg Black stable, but not a million miles off.

My pad was the Lightour 7.5r pad which is great in the cold, and my trusty Snugpak Softie Elite Hawk 9 sleeping bag which has a comfort rating of -3C (snigger), the snigger is because this rating, as with all bag manufacturers, is a subjective thing.

I had my Soto Windmaster gas stove with me as I always do. This stove is simply the best I have ever used and can see no reason to use anything else now. This stove coupled with my small pots that have a heat ring on the base means that I can boil enough water for a brew in less time than it takes me to sort the tea bag and sugar.

The pack I’ve been using for a while now, and has become a firm favourite is one from a German manufacturer. It’s called the Phoenix 65 from Portal and comes in with a hefty cost of £65. You get what you pay for, usually, but this pack has been used and abused for the last two and a half years carrying an average of 18-19kg when setting out. It’s comfortable, pretty hard wearing and not heavy, despite the low cost. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Buttermere

Buttermere is one of those places in the Lake District that many people, and pretty much every hiker knows about, but it never seems too busy. Probably because it’s actually a bit of a pain to get to, the roads into the area are all very narrow, full of twist and turns, and a great many edges to drive off. So consequently, even during the busy periods it never seems crowded. And so, it was back to Buttermere for this walk.

Friday’s drive to the Lakes was the usual punishing 8 hours of hard work dodging idiots and poor road surfaces, but this drive had the added bonus of temperatures that hit 30 degrees, and without air con the drive was long and hot. By the time I arrived two hours after the sat nav said I would I was glad to get out of the van and have a stretch in the clean air and amazing views. My walking partner was already there, so after a quick catch up and yet another ‘sorting of the kit’ we headed out in the heat around Fleetwith Pike and the climb up to our pitch for the night.

Behind Fleetwith Pike looking towards Haystacks

It was up the hill slightly behind Blackbeck tarn that we finally found a pitch where the ground wasn’t sodden, surprising really as it all looked pretty good from a distance, but I guess it was just one of those areas that holds the water like a sponge. However, we found this one spot big enough for both our tents and a little room between and so we pitched up. As soon as that was done it was time to eat, time had slipped by quickly and at this point it was fast approaching 10pm and hunger was hitting hard, chow time. Food was prepped and the bar was opened, for me a nice Chianti, and my buddy had 0% beer at hand, and we began to relax and enjoy the views in the lingering light of a fine June evening.

One of the things I’ve really come to enjoy is company on my walks, and spending the rest of the evening chatting away over a wine and a beer in fantastic surroundings that command spectacular views has come to be one of life’s great pleasures. But all good things…….so when the tiredness began to take full effect it was time to hit the hay, so we headed off to the solitude of our respective tents and a solid night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, that did not turn out to be the case and I only managed to get four hours sleep, waking up at 4ish am to the earliest light, and my buddy having stayed awake a little longer than me slept a little later but still only managed about the same amount of time. Oh well! One of those things I guess, so all we could do was to have breakfast and get packed up for the days walk that lay ahead of us.

We headed out towards Innonimate tarn with the intention of restocking our water supplies before continuing on to Haystacks and beyond. We navigated (I say we) to what we thought was the tarn, but it didn’t look like I remembered from the last time I was there, it looked for all the world like it had dried up quite a lot. At the time of writing this has been one of the driest springs on record, and so we thought it had just lost a lot of its content. We filtered from the cleanest water that was there and filled every container we had, the temperatures for the day were due to hit the high twenties again so we needed as much as we could carry to stay hydrated. The part we collected from looked to be teaming with life including frogs and newts, which means that the water quality had to be good. So, with bladders and bottles filled we set off to find the path we needed. Unfortunately for my ego, not 50m further on we found the real Innonimate tarn, glistening away in the bright sunlight filled to the brim and boasting a decent population of water lilies. It looked gorgeous. One corner and 50m off course meant we missed filling up where we had intended. A lesson in navigation and why you shouldn’t assume anything, if ever there was one.

Anyway, after a little banter coming in my direction about this slight miscalculation we carried on, following the obvious path over Haystacks and down the other side. This was a hard section of the walk due to steep rocky scrambles while carrying heavy packs, so the going was fairly strenuous. We decided that once we got to the bottom, we would take a rest break and get something to eat and drink. The sun was hot, the grass was soft, and eyelids were heavy………….

Fifty minutes later we woke up!

While we were napping like children….again….the weather had started to turn and heavy rain was beginning to fall sporadically. We had spoken to another walker earlier who had told us that the forecast was for heavy weather coming in from the west, and that the area we were planning to pitch up was likely to be a bit wet anyway. With the weather turning and what was already a fairly wet prospect to the end of the day, we made the decision to head back the way we had come, to the pitch of the previous night. And it turned out to be a good thing we did.

Walking back over Haystacks and all those rocky scrambles in rain showers that were accompanied by blowing wind was particularly pleasurable, and I made sure to mention the fact that walking on rocks was my favourite kind of terrain (again). However, after a bit of walking in various directions we made it back to the same spot as the night before, got pitched up and set about getting some food on the go.

A view from the pitch before the cloud came in

It’s usually my favourite time of day for any walk, you’ve had a solid day of walking and exercise, you’ve usually seen many things, and by the end of the day it’s time to pitch up, settle down with a good meal (and a mug of red) and to simply relax and enjoy the surroundings. It’s a good time to reflect on the day and life in general, as well as any specific issues that might be playing on the mind. It’s also a good time to just simply empty the mind and spend an entire evening in a state of mindfulness if that’s what you want.

It’s also a good opportunity to watch the world as day turns to night, and in this case witness a bank of cloud flow between the peaks in the distance and merge in the valley next to us and begin to amass. The shapes and forms cloud can take when it’s pushed by wind but facing obstructions can be fascinating to watch, and this particular evening was a cracking example of just that. We managed to take a few decent pictures as the cloud moved and swirled towards us before it overcame the camp, and it didn’t take long to do so. Not long after that the rain started to fall, so we decided to hit the tents and settle in for the night. But that was definitely not the end of it.

I’m not sure how much time had passed, but before long the thunder started, at first it was a little distant, but not too far. And then the lightening came, again, not too close, but before long we were right underneath a substantial storm that crashed and flashed in a fairly epic way, and we were there, right slap bang in the middle of it. Everyone knows that being in the hills during a storm is not a good idea for obvious reasons, but it would have been worse to try and bail. So we stayed, safe in the knowledge that if the worst were to happen we wouldn’t know much about it. There was only one thing to do, enjoy the light show, such as it was from inside the tent (it was raining hard), and try to get some sleep.

The following morning was the usual breakfast and packing up routine. Once we had gotten ourselves set we headed down off the hill, following what was an interesting direction to the path we needed to follow (yet more of my favourite rocky terrain), to get to the where we had parked up.

This was a planned walk with a planned route, we knew where we were going and pretty much knew what to expect. But as with all good plans sometimes you just have to adapt to whatever the changing circumstances demand, and this was no exception. We changed our plans and ended up having a different kind of trip to the one we expected, but no lees enjoyable for it.

If anything, this particular walk gave me the opportunity to really analyse a question I’ve been pondering over for several years. Recently it came up again during a zoom call where it was suggested that I follow a course of action that would ultimately lead to building a business around leading walks in the hills and mountains. I’ve considered doing this from time to time but never put anything into action, I’ve always procrastinated and ended up doing nothing about it, and now I truly understand why. I have managed to put this particular question to bed once and for all.

Once again our plans went slightly awry, but it didn’t matter, what really matters is what you take away from the trip, and in this case we had a good walk in both harsh sun and lashing rain, we slept in the middle of a wild thunder and lightning storm in the hills, and as usual when walking with my buddy, we enjoyed good conversation and a bit of banter. I also settled a long standing issue.

All in all another good weekend.

Reasons to reflect on the Nantlle Ridge

The Nantlle Ridge was the route planned for this walk. Four of us were going to ascend Y Garn in Eryri (Snowdonia) and walk the ridge to the far end, spend the night near the last peak, descend the far side in the morning and walk the valley back to the start point. A solid walk for sure of 25k in total, and a camp at summit, not too shabby.

However, “The best laid schemes ‘o mice and men gang aft agley”, but I’m getting slightly ahead of myself.

The weather forecast showed that we would have a low cloud base at 400m on Saturday (well below the peak), meaning that we would be walking in cloud on the ridge. Not too much of an issue as navigating in conditions like that is fairly straightforward if you can use a map and compass, or even a mapping app. Most of the time you can just follow the path that goes in the general direction you need go, as there’s nearly always a reasonable amount of visibility, at least enough to see the path 20m ahead.

One of us had to drop out early due to illness (completely understandable) nobody needs to be up a hill in a remote location if you’re not well enough for it, which left three us.

Excited for the trip Mark and I met up the night before the walk for a cheeky nights camp out next to the lake (llyn) at the foot of Y Garn. After a little bit of scoping the local area we found the perfect spot to pitch up and settle in for the night. Being in one of the quieter areas of the national park, after a certain hour there was literally nobody around and the only company we had was a pair of geese, three ducks, and a cuckoo that we never got to see. Apart from the above there was absolute peace and quiet, a very real palpable calm.

Saturday morning came with yet more of the same peace and quiet, and after the usual ablutions and breakfast we packed up and headed off to meet the third member of the walk. However, being in an area with virtually no mobile signal we had no idea that the fourth had also fallen ill and wasn’t coming. Again, it’s no good being in the hills with a case of flu, so it was the right call not to come. We did finally get the message after mooching around for a bit of signal for an hour, and the concern we had that he might just be late due to traffic or just being lost in a remote area was over, and we had confirmation all was well, if not healthy.

Now we knew that it was just us we headed out to pick up our gear and set off up Y Garn. It’s not a particularly high hill, but it is dramatic, and very steep. Pictures do not do it any kind of justice at all, and to say it was a hard slog to get to the top is not an exaggeration. I always knew this was the section that was going to need the most physical effort to complete, and it did not let me down. But we eventually made it, and climbing up into the cloud base and losing sight of the views below the land took on an ethereal feel, especially as towards the top the land became strewn with rock and boulders giving a very different look to what we had just walked over.

After a short stop and a refuel at the top we headed off along the ridge. And this is where it gets interesting. The next section of the walk was an arete, or col, I can never really remember the difference, and in real terms it’s only a technicality because ultimately, it’s a narrow ridge between two peaks.

It takes a certain amount of mettle to take on any kind of arete at the best of times, usually because any path will naturally be fairly close to the edge, but in this case the edge was mostly an abyss, a steep drop into nothing, and in the cloud it becomes that much more dangerous. Despite this we made our way along the arete picking our way across the rocks and navigating a few scrambles along the narrow ridge, and we made fairly good progress considering the conditions.

However, it was at one of these scrambles that we hit a point at which we could not justifiably go any further. It was a moment of disappointment for sure, but most definitely the right decision. The scramble at this point was either over the top which meant climbing up high sections of rock face with a definite drop either side, or a very narrow ledge slightly lower down that needed you to cling tightly to the rock face. Either way was going to need a lot of effort and concentration, but in low visibility and what was becoming increasingly slippery rock surface because of the wet from the cloud, plus the heavy packs we were carrying, meant that on this occasion it was simply just too dangerous to continue any further.

Despite the disappointment of having to turn back, as I said before, it was absolutely the right decision, and even if we had successfully continued onwards, it would have been more luck than judgement that would have kept us from potential tragedy.

So, with this in mind we literally headed back the way we came until we reached the peak of Y Garn, where we took shelter in a cairn and rested for a short time while we refueled. After a suitable period of time spent eating and chatting, we headed downhill, very much with the assistance of gravity helping to speed our descent all the way down, which meant going down was a lot quicker than going up. And if not for the hiking poles we used, I suspect it would have been even more rapid.

As we exited the cloud base the view opened up before our eyes revealing a clear vista across the valley and the llyn that was going to be our home again for the second night. We had made it down safely. A short walk, and about an hour later we had pitched up and got the stove on the go ready for a brew, some food, and a well deserved rest. It really was a lovely spot to pitch and simply take the time to soak it all up, and just be in the moment.

After a long day and a huge amount of effort climbing and then descending one of the steepest hills in the area it was nice to hang out at the camp, chat about anything and everything with Mark, sip away on a mug of red, and simply relax before hitting the sack for a much needed good night’s sleep.

The following morning was the usual process of ablutions, tea, breakfast, and packing up before heading off to the vehicles and the long drive home. But not before once again taking in the natural beauty of where we were and appreciating it fully for what it is.

One thing that the the Stoics encourages us to do is to practice gratitude, and this weekend made me reflect on that practice more than most. So, here’s the list of things that I’m particularly grateful for.

The many opportunities to go away camping given to me by my long suffering wife. The beauty of the places I get to see and explore. The strength to walk in these places. The opportunity to face the challenges in front of me. To rest and sleep in some truly awesome places. To share these amazing experiences in the company of a good friend, and any others that wish to experience the same. I’m grateful for the thrill I get from being ‘out there’ somewhere remote and away from the rest of the world. And I’m grateful for the wisdom to know when not to put others in a difficult or dangerous situation just to fulfil a desire to complete a planned route.

I’m also incredibly grateful for my two best friends, my trusty hiking poles, that not only help to keep me walking, but also keep my tent up.

This weekend certainly didn’t go exactly according to plan, but make no mistake, it was still a great weekend full of adventure, exercise and effort, a few challenges, great company and a lot of laughs. It was a shame that two of us failed to make it, they would have had a great time as well, but the two that remained had a good time and will return to finish the job at the earliest possible convenience.

The mountain isn’t going anywhere.