Easter must be near!

So Easter Sunday Morning 2008 was great, I awoke in my Akto after a good day of sunshine on the Saturday which had propelled my walking buddies, Backpackbrewer Dave and Chairman Bill, and myself quite nicely through much of Southern Dartmoor, to find snow all around.

We then carried on through a mix of sleet, wind and then just plain ordinary hard hitting rain throughout the day.

Two years down the line and I looked out of my bedroom window this morning to see large chunks of snow floating past, this gave way to strong winds which in turn drove them past and eventually turned them to sleet. It got to around 3pm before I had to just bite the bullet and step out into a rather wintery scene in Princetown. No lying snow, but the wind was strong and the hailstones were hard!

Having made the effort to get outside, I embarked upon some site reviews for naviagtion training that I use on a regular basis. Dartmoor navigation is not as difficult as people think, or at least I dont think, Dartmoor navigation is a difficult as people think; if you see what I mean. But to give folk confidence, it really, really does help if the features they are tasked to find are actually on the ground ;-) So that was my task for today, navigate to and from know points that should be there, and in fairness to ordnance survey - they were.

It's just that the hail kept comming; dark bands of it approaching in a turbulent cold front. I didnt mind too much but I have to say that the spaniel started to complain after about and hour or so of this. Back home for tea and cakes then - obviously.

It was at this point, I thought - blimey Easter must be near.

;-)

Ten Tors

It was 1986, and we were as fit as a fit thing that had just come out of a gymnasium... Six of us were about to take part in the Ten Tors Challenge on behalf of our RAF unit. As young airmen we felt it important to beat every other airman, or RAF team, taking part. The resultant being that would run from tor to tor; unfortunately it was often the wrong tor! This in turn made our 55 mile event something closer to 75 - or at least that is how I imagined it. It was a horrendous year for the event with rain, spate rivers and tents cart wheeling across Okehampton Camp.

1987 saw me as a new team leader for the RAF Locking team, we successfully completed the 55 mile challenge but all I can remember was my mum and dad being there at the finish line. I can’t remember who was in my team or where we went - nothing! Why is that? I wish I could, I really do.

Again the youngsters are preparing for the Ten Tors challenge, as they do annually, although now without regular servicemen taking part. The pride and sense of adventure is still there, very much alive and beating in the hearts of every schoolboy / girl or cadet that steps forward onto the moor, or should I have said 'The Moor' - Dartmoor. This year is an anniversary for celebration of Ten Tors, the first year it was run from Denbury Camp for the Army to use as an exercise but since 1960 it has been open to others to enjoy.

So 50 years on from its beginnings ten tors will see 400 hundred teams of youngsters crossing the moor again in May. The main contingent of youngsters will be made up of schools and cadet units from the original 7 counties of Wessex, many of which from my own beloved Devon. Alongside this event also runs the Jubilee Challenge, which allows youngsters with disabilities the opportunity to take part in an expedition event of their own; if you are a grown man, and you don’t want people to see you cry with tears of joy, then you had better stay away from this event... It is the most wonderful outdoor challenge I have ever witnessed, I can’t watch it again, because I cry.

I have the good fortune to be a scrutineer for the Ten Tors event these days, and as such I am also invited to attend the RAF Ten Tors training weekend as part of the their safety team. There are no airmen taking part, it is a training weekend for cadets from three different Air Training Corps (ATC) wings, putting together 25 teams to take part in ten tors.

The spirit of adventure and expedition is absolutely key to the leadership development of our youngsters, it allows them to cut back to a bare minimum, without playstations and DVDs, and explore themselves and their peers capabilities.

"There is more in you than you think"

This is the motto of Gordonstoun School, founded by Kurt Hahn who created Outward Bound. A belief that expedition was at the heart of self understanding through experiential education was the central pillar of his teachings.

The sense of adventure doesn't just rest with youngsters of course, many of us want to learn and to grow with 'outdoor experience'; why else would we be writing these blogs and packing our bags with the minimum requirement to walk the moors / hills / mountains. Putting on your walking boots is like the donning of a cloak, it transforms and transports us to freedom, and maybe, just perhaps - our youth.

Dartmoor has provided the backdrop for this fantastic opportunity for fifty years now, Ten Tors is more than just a walking event with a few blisters: It is the formation of our future leaders, it bonds boys and girls with the outdoor environment and teaches them a sense of self worth and achievement that they will never attain shopping in Plymouth, or on a playstation at home.

So why can’t I remember anything about the1987 Ten Tors? Oh well.

Time to return to blogging

Well any time is as good to return as today...

Wet, wet, wet! So a brief walk out on the moor clearly demonstrated that even in torrents of rain you can have fun... If you're a spaniel that is; the dog thoroughly enjoyed himself, while I was regarding my 10 year old Paramo Alta and thinking: blimey this stuff is good! 10 years, dog bites, gorse, mud and hours upon hours of use. of course I do clean it from time to time, but it is as waterproof as the day it was new.

I think I'll put a chicken in the oven now ;-)

A chill in the air

From car to twilight fresh ground as peat stained earth rolls beneath my feet. No conveyor, heaving breath and feet ploughing up ancient long forgotten forest. Furze bound as I turn to track and startle cattle that move on to chew and shelter.

Blackslade passed, the gentle rise to wittaburrow's scattered stones laying where three thousand years could not move them; laid by men; now interred.

The moorland sunset clear and crisp. Clear. Tors and hills presented for skyline muster, my inspection: my moor. God given, God thanked I run on through settlements where once my ancestors had farmed, a child in the long grass playing in the depths of imagination, my grandfathers forefather.

Beyond lies bog, it was bog then and is now. Bracken covers hillward slopes as I press against them, digging in. Bracken brown and beaten by summers sun now receding to autumn gold.

I rise atop Pill Tor with Rippon rising to my Eastern flank, noble, great yet unvisited in her loneliest moments.

Boyond the ponies happy to roam, wild. The pace quickens my heart beating faster and legs workingharderfasterstronger beyond my normal thresholds....... ALIVE!

I reach the car and think, there was a chill in the air tonight.

Run for it!

Another afternoon out running the moor, this time around Ryders Hill and the Avon. Most of the route was an absolute bog after the recent torrent of rain. I returned back at Combestone Tor two hours after setting out. I have to say I felt totally drained, and yet I can spend three hours running up and down a Scottish mountain and feel less deprived of energy - why? I can only suppose that boggy ground (continuous) must have a cumulative and continual drag on energy levels in a similar way to ABS braking I suppose. Never mind all good training and plenty of sweat. I knew that rain was going to be good for something!

Who do you trust?

Sorry for the delay in transmission, however I have been side tracked along the way!

Starting with 2 weeks in Scotland, which by most standards I would say was fine: OK it rained, except for one day when I briefly saw the sun: OK the midges came out..... you just cant win sometimes can you. Anyway, despite a rather damp feel to the air I managed to run Ben Nevis (twice) and then head over for a trot up into the Mamores. Now while running the descent I bumped into a group of German (I think) visitors:

"which way to the split in the track?" said a cheerful young man.

"Well I dont live here and I am just out for a run, but there is a kind of cross in the path up there on the saddle before you ascend the summit is that what you are looking for?"

"Oh yes, can you tell me is it the West Highland way?"

"I havent a clue mate I am just up here for a run"

"Oh well that will be it then, how long to the top?"

By now I was loosing patience as I was cooling down. "An hour at the rate you are walking" I replied. "But I dont know if that is the route you are looking for, havent you got a map?"

"Oh yes, a very bad one"

"Good luck" and off I ran back into Glen Nevis. On reaching the car I checked my map to find that they were indeed mistaken and that wasnt the path at all! Never mind, it's nice to be back...

It leaks!

The sky was grey at threatening as I set out on my evening run across the moor. The summer seasons wetness made tussocks grow to full volume which didn't help as I splashed through the wet ground. Past Hart Tor, beyond Black and on to Leather and Sharpitor; sky blackened and the visibility dropped to nothingness as I grabbed for my compass to take a bearing for the road I wanted to cross. The rain came down and the chill bit in as I made the old railway track that passes the back of Ingra Tor. I was chilled clean through to the bone despite a fast pace and by Swell Tor Quarry had donned my lite Speed jacket. Around Kings Tor and onward toward Princetown I reached the car. I grabbed my larger sack and popped the Golite Hex up for a nights shelter with the full intention of a good day to follow tomorrow. The rain came down like stair rods and the wind pressed against the Hex. I was puzzled: where the hell was that water coming from..... damn it's the seams....It leaks!

Arggghh!!!