Shakedown with the Three Amigos

The three amigos being, in no particular order, Alan Sloman, Andrew Walker and David Wilkinson - soon to be TGO Challengers setting off from Morar into the inhospitable wilds of Knoydart ... then more and more wilds all the way across Scotland. But the Highlands of Scotland, although wilder than a Troggs single, have two great challenges for the flatlander fenboys of the south. It is very lumpy, being almost entirely composed of unfeasibly high lumpy bits. And boggy bits too. Admittedly the fens are frequently boggy, but they are at least level, whereas the cunning scot has devised a method of cultivating deep soupy bogs on slopes of sixty degrees or more. So, with insufficient time (and funds) for a trip north of the border, a brief foray into Lakeland (not the kitchen shop) was devised to prepare for these challenges and acclimatise to unaccustomed altitude. So it was that on Thursday four largish chaps squeezed in to a smallish car and headed up the M6 and to Langdale for a couple of days of walking and testing kit and body. Would either fail? Read on.

A very yellow Trailstar

 The weather forecast was for rain, thunderstorms and snow over 600m. Predictably after a brief foray around the retail establishments of Ambleside (and a visit to the Golden Rule - best pub in the town), we arrived in bright afternoon sunshine to pop up the tents at the excellent NT camp site in Great Langdale. It was here that Andrew produced his newest piece of gear - a spankng new Trailstar tarpy/tenty type thing in a startling yellow that I had not experienced since 1973, when I had a Ford Cortina in the same colour (Daytona Yellow, as I recall). The colour scheme may have been a tad retro, but not so the tent (for it had become a tent with the addition of an Oookstar inner - which I have to say is a really, really clever piece of kit that bridges the gap between tent and tarp, keeping the advantages of each for just 370gms, less the weight of the bivi bag that you no longer need).

Soooooo spacious!

Tents up, Trailstar admired, we experienced a very brief shower before heading off to the Old Dungeon Ghyll bar for a light supper and a few beers. Here we discovered Moorhouse's Black Cat - a truly excellent dark beer, and ideal session ale. One pint leads wonderfully to another with a dark chocolate flavour and a nice palate cleansing bite of hops on the finish. Yes, I liked it ;-)

We slept well and awoke to a perfect morning with sunshine and just a few clouds. After a leasurely breakfast we were packed and ready for our trundle up Mickleden to Stakes Pass and on to the Langdale Pikes for a bit of unaccustomed ascent. We were quite pleased to be on our way and in good order by 10 o' clock, as previous experiences at the ODG had left us staggering in to the bar, bleary eyed, for coffee at eleven.

But as Andrew had left his map on the car roof, we tarried at the hotel anyway whilst he jogged back to retrieve it. There was a small debate along the lines of "well, we're late anyway, and they'll be open soon", but temptation was resisted and we were soon at the bottom of Stakes Pass enjoying a brief shower (sufficient for us to postpone elevenses until we were at the top).

Alan on Pike o' Stickle

Until we were at the top ... Dear reader, you have no idea what it is like for a bunch of flaccid flatlanders who last saw a hill in the autumn to stagger up this path in the Spring. We made it though, and celebrated the ascent with a sit down and a nice cup of tea. Fortified we set off to the Pike o' Stickle where, after a bit of lunch and another cuppa, we dropped our packs and scrambled to the top to take in the terrific views. I was pleased to note from my altimeter watch that since leaving the camp site we had achieved over 2000ft of ascent. Alan promptly felt faint and said he thought that he might have a nosebleed coming on. Andrew grinned (or maybe grimaced) Dave ruminated on his unfinished Independent crossword. Then it was off to complete our tour, bypassing Harrison Stickle (one stickle is enough, really) taking in more ascent to the dizzying height of 723m (2372ft) at Thunacar Knott and on to another spendid viewpoint, Sergeant Man. This gives a wonderful prospect of Pavey Ark, Stickle Tarn and far reaching views to ... well ... the horizon I guess. Alan claimed to discern Morecambe Bay, Coniston Old Man and other bits and pieces. I wasn't really paying attention as my phone had got a signal and the messages weren't great. Barclays Bank had spectactularly cocked up opening an executors' account for my mum's estate and were now phoning back 36 hours late. Grrrrrrr, I can't wait for Monday when I can get at the useless buggers.

View from Sergeant Man

 Thence it was off to Codale Tarn to find a spot to camp. We decided on a direct route, eschewing paths, and, Challenge style, struck out across country picking our way to our objective - stared at by a party slogging up a rubbly path as we skipped down the greensward, neatly avoiding the odd inconvenient crag. We found a spiffing spot with views down to Grasmere village, Rydal Water and Windermere. Tents up, a bit of a social, supper and a well earned early bed. ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Camp by Codale Tarn

The next day was Saturday. Once we had packed and climbed back up over the ridge to drop on to Stickle Tarn our strategy in avoiding the weekend was fully justified. Honestly, the average shopping mall would be pleased to have as many people thronging the aisles. At a weekend there are numerous opportunities in the Lakes to enjoy really fab countryside far from the madding crowd (for example, when pressed to a week-end in the past, we have explored from Dunnerdale - nice pub, good campsite, no crowds). However, I guess that as we ourselves were now numbered amongst the crowds we couldn't really complain - but we did find an alternative route down that avoided the throng coming up. Amazingly, a few hundred yards off the main drag, you can still be entirely alone, so why people trudge up the fells in huge crocodiles is a mystery. Still, it keeps the rest nice and empty for us.

The week-end hordes approach!

I have mentioned the effect of unaccustomed effort of ascent on the untrained leg. That is nothing compared with the rigour of descent. Sheer bloody purgatory. The constant braking effort - especially when you encounter a path lovingly restored by those "fix the fells" jokers with all the stones sloping downwards, so that any that are wet or icy precipitate a nasty fall for the unwary. However, we survived their efforts to thin out the tourist horde by selective injury and made it safely back to the Old Dungeon Ghyll by lunchtime, in time for restorative coffees and beers before fish and chips in Ambleside and the long trek home.

After all this, the burning question is, are the Three Amigos ready for the trials that await them? Well, of course they are. They are, after all, heading for a gigantic party in Montrose, and nothing will stand between these three and a party. A couple of days lying down in a darkened room and they'll be over the shock of upwardness and ready for anything that Scotland can throw in their way.

The Three Amigos

Good luck, amigos - wish I was going too!

Teesdale Spring

If you think that the Doodlecat site has been rather neglected of late, you’re right. The cumulative effects of business problems (or catastrophes to be entirely truthful), illness, family bereavements and so-on, have subdued the creative muse and kept me away from the great outdoors rather more than I would have wished. But now I think there is a chink of light at the end of the tunnel – at least I haven’t heard a train whistle to indicate otherwise – and last week Miss W and I found ourselves completely free of responsibilities and with a few quid left in the bank. So we shot off north for a week’s holiday.

And a holiday on our own, without the mobile switched on day and night – bliss!

We have never been to Teesdale, but the odd post on Mike Knipe’s blog made us think that here we might find a bit of peace and quiet, and some pleasant, interesting walking too. And so we did.

Teesdale residents outside our cottage

We stayed at the truly excellent holiday cottage on Toby Hill Farm, between Egglestone and Middleton-in-Teesdale, which we can thoroughly recommend. With lambing and calving still in full swing, the farm was a busy place when we arrived, and before long Miss W was meeting some of the newer residents.

Tom, the trainee sheepdog

So cute, so tasty ...

With the Teesdale Way running right past the farm drive, the first day saw us take a leisurely stroll into Middleton along the riverside, and after lunch, a wander along various footpaths and bits of old railway to make a pleasant nine mile loop in the spring sunshine. In fact we were able to get a decent walk in almost every day. Whether up amongst the old lead mines that pepper the hillsides, down in the lush river valley or on the high fells, the walking in Teesdale is pleasant, sometimes exhilarating, but never too demanding. Which was just what we wanted.

View from Winch Bridge

One alarming notice near High Force warned us of a "Tree Killer On The Loose", which conjured images of an axe wielding madman. Fortunately it is only something that disagrees with juniper trees, and a disinfecting and scrub of the the footwear (water and brushes provided) will hopefully keep it under control. As a result of these precautions we had immaculate boots.

Walks took in the usual sights of Low Force, High Force and Cauldron Snout, with fine high level treks across Cronkley Fell and over to High Cup Nick. We became quite absorbed with the remains of the lead mining and smelting industry too, with its hushes, adits, grading floors and buddles and so-on (a tip for you here – when you see a shop marked on the map, don’t rely on getting an ice cream there). One great legacy of this industry is the trails and tracks that follow the old pony routes from the mines to the smelters. Today they make up a network of miles of green paths through stunning countryside. The industrial heritage of old lime kilns, buildings and greened over haul roads just adds to the interest. When we gaze appalled at wind farms and hydro schemes and so-on, I sometimes wonder if, in a century or two, our descendants will walk the same empty land and marvel that it was once a major source of power. Will the Beamish museum of the 23rd century feature a few wind turbines alongside the relics of the age of steam?

But for now, industry has abandoned Teesdale and wildlife is everywhere. We saw deer near the farm (local venison in the butchers at Middleton) curlew, lapwings, plovers, oyster catchers, wild geese, grouse of course and as for frogs, there were hundreds of them up on the fells. Even the most unlikely and filthy pool on an old mining site was teeming with frogs and frog spawn, whereas our pristine wildlife pond at home has not one amphibian resident - although I strongly suspect that a visitor from the local heronry might have something to do with that!

Frog near Maize Beck

What really made this such a great place to stay for a week was the variety. If the weather is poor, there is plenty to do and see (and some good pubs). There are low level country walks, tourist trails and then on bright breezy days you can take to the high fells and roam at will. We walked for miles, ate for England and slept like logs.

High Cup Nick

Afternoon light - heading home

 Back home now and feeling great. Amazing what a breath of fresh air can do!

Green and pleasant land?

Whilst many southerners ( me included, I must confess) fulminate about so-called "wind farms" in remote upland areas, few seem to comment on the defacement of many of our beautiful village roofscapes by the unfettered proliferation of solar panels. I have observed this with a growing feeling of despair.

Whilst out with Miss W this afternoon I was stunned to see one of the views that I enjoy obliterated. What I expected was a view across a meadow (usually with a few cows or sheep) to an exceptionally fine group of victorian farm buildings.

What I saw was this.

Victorian farm goes green

The irony is that our local power station (Sizewell B) is capable of supplying the daily domestic needs of every home in Suffolk - and Norfolk too. In fact it produces as much power as every windturbine in the UK put together, around 3% of the total daily requirement of the UK

With the removal of subsidies for these solar horrors (in part at least) hopefully we can expect to see a similar approach to the wind industry from Cameron, Osborne & co. The squeals and squawks of anguish and indignation from the double glazing solar energy salesmen was music to my ears. De-subsidise the lot, I say. Then our money can be spent on reliable, secure energy generation.

We don't need this - just Sizewell C, please. And a few more.

Lies, damn lies ...

Phil's home-made Market Harborough pie

... and statistics.

The latest scare being the shock news that eating the odd bacon sarnie will render you 19% more likely to die of pancreatic cancer.

Bollocks. 19% of what? Well an increase of 19% over and above what it would be if you never ate bacon. This provokes two questions:

1) How did the "researchers" ensure that their control group had never touched a bacon roll or pork pie?

2) The base risk of contracting pancreatic cancer is infinitesimal until you are into your seventh decade, when it rises to (wait for it) around 0.75% - tops.

19% of 0.75 is 0.14%. So eating red meat, pork pies and enjoying a bacon buttie is increasing your risk overall, not by 19%, but by 0.14%. One might argue that such a small difference falls within the margins of error that any survey has. Not so dramatic now, is it?

A typical health scare

Doesn't make for an arresting headline either.

Burrowing a little deeper we begin to find the truth - the "study" was nothing of the sort. It was in fact an analysis of other people's research which may well have been looking at other factors and with differing controls and standards. From the Independent:

They analysed 11 studies involving over 6,000 people with pancreatic cancer. The results showed red meat consumption also increased the risk of the cancer for men by 29 per cent for each daily serving of 120 grams. But there was no significant increase in risk for women, raising doubts about the robustness of the finding.

I suspect that the researchers are more concerned about the robustness of their funding than their finding - note that they analysed 11 studies by others, not their own. No doubt they will now obtain the funds to embark on a long and fruitful study of their very own.

Cynic - moi?

Not really. As what the press would term a "cancer survivor" myself I am all for good solid research - but I am also all for honest presentation of the facts. It is regrettable that researchers feel compelled to present their findings in such sensationalist terms to get the backing that they need. This sort of misrepresentation of the real facts can sometimes get out of hand and destroy people's livelihoods. I bet our local butchers, pig and beef farmers loved it - not.

And if you think I'm over-egging this point, cast your mind back to another case of over-egging by Edwina Currie. That destroyed many egg producers almost overnight, both feathered and human.