TGO Challenge 2013: Final tweaks & gear list

Today has been a day of industry.

It won’t have added to our Gross Domestic Product, but Things Have Been Done.

The garage was emptied and dried out (Why did the upstairs loo overflow pipe overflow into the garage – which Einstein designed that, eh?)  Martin’s Solomid and Oooknest has been pitched on the only available bit of grass – the front lawn (the back garden is either flower beds or paved). The neighbours’ kids seemed fascinated. I’ll try them with some Werther’s Originals next, to ensure I get taken away…

Here is Sally – slotted on to the tiny front garden. (I think the grass needs cutting.)

I was quite surprised how much room there is inside.  It has TARDIS–like qualities. She’s been up and down twice this afternoon.and I think Sally and I understand each other now. She has a fair complexion and we will treat each other with respect.

Then there has also been the small matter of trousers. I am saving a shed load of weight by taking Sally Solomid and abandoning Wanda,. I’m also taking less food – food for three days instead of four at the start of the walk. I’m also a bit stronger than last year as the blood count is quite a bit higher – 10.4 compared to 8.7 of last year. I thought it might be nice to be a bit more spruced up for the new girl, so, to hell with the gram counters! I’m taking some spare strides! Sally & me will look very smart together.

So, this year, for the gear fetishists out there, (you know who you are) this is what the kit looks like:

[CLICK TO ENLARGE]

It’s a bit fuzzy as I haven’t mastered how to take things from Excel and stick them onto the blog properly, so it’s a bit of a lash-up! It’s sharper and bigger when you click on it.

So, in real money, I’ll be starting off with just 26 pounds on my back, including food and whisky, which is not too shabby for man carrying spare strides and shoes!

TGO Challenge 2013: In limbo - RIP Wanda

What happens now then?

There’s a week before we set off to our start point on the west coast of Scotland. I am in limbo.

I’ve bought (and re-bought) my food and everything is now in separate piles for different parts of the walk. It just needs to be put into the food bag and the two parcels so they can be sent off on Friday. I’ve washed and re-lofted the down jacket (that was a nervy business!) so I shall be nice and warm on those clear starry nights sipping whiskies with the boys. The TGO big black hairy fleece has arrived and a new battery has been ordered for the phone. Why do they always decide to die just before the Challenge?

After dithering and wearing my Raptors on the PreWalkDaunder, I have flip-flopped back to my original decision to take my trusty Scarpa Nepals with the beefier sock combination. This also means taking some camp shoes, so the Walsh PB’s are coming too (in a very camp green & orange colour-way). Looking at the current conditions on the tops, I’ve decided to send the Kahtoola Microspikes in the parcel for Tulloch so we can canter over Creag Meagaidh and then on to our our first Cheese & Wine Party, with a bit more grip.

For the last six years I have taken the wonderful Wanda Warmlite 2C, but sadly on the PreWalkDaunder, a fierce gust of wind came along when I was threading the rear pole into its sleeve and Wanda suffered a fracture and, upon close inspection, hairline cracks elsewhere in the same pole. I was going to re-order a new pole from Stephensons, but having had a closer look at Wanda’s four pegging loops (at each pole end) I have noticed that the loops are almost sawn completely through. I’m afraid the work required to get Wanda through her MOT means that she is, in effect, a write-off.

I’ve decided to take up an incredibly kind offer from the excellent Martin Rye and borrow his MLD Solomid and Oookworks nest on the walk. The Solomid is a pyramid tent made from sil-nylon, supported by two trekking poles in an A-frame configuration. 

[MARTIN’S PHOTO OF HIS MLD SOLOMID]

Sally Solomid (for that’s her TGO trail-name) is quite a bit lighter than Wanda, but of course, that comes with one or two sacrifices; there will be quite a bit less floor and head room, but as I see it, it will be similar to my old Akto that looked after me so well for a dozen years or so.

It’s from Mountain Laurel Designs ~ the same company that makes Andrew’s Trailstar  ~ and it’s in the same colour as well. He & I both wear the same blue Berghaus jackets as well. At this rate, I fear we are going to become the Howard & Hilda of the TGO Challenge.

TGO Challenge 2013: Gluttony

I’ve made a terrible mistake.

There is still a fortnight to go to the start to the Challenge, yet I’ve been out buying scoff. This scoff sits there in Mission Control, in a sugary delicious heap, awaiting distribution to one of three piles.

Pile One: Scoff that is coming with me in my rucksack. This food has to last the four days until we reach Tulloch .

Pile Two: Scoff that needs to be posted to Tulloch so that I can eat for another two days until we get to the hotel at Laggan. This pile must include comestibles for the first Cheese & Wine Party as well as the normal day-to-day stuff.

Pile Three: Scoff that needs to last me three days to get to Braemar. This pile has to include even more comestibles for our second Cheese & Wine Party.

There’s flap-jack, Mars and Marathon bars, jelly babies, soups, mug-shots, packs of tuna and seemingly sixty seven packs of freeze-dried food as well. It’s lying there, sexily, calling to me: “Take me, Big Boy!”

How can you resist a wonderful chocolaty pile of munchy Mars bars? How can you possibly resist packets of jelly babies? And the Marathons too.

I can’t. I didn’t.

This fat bastard will be back out to Tescos tomorrow then…

TGO Challenge 2013: PreWalkDaunder: Part III

It had been just a few days in the hills but already time was becoming something governed by the sun, and the weather just the stuff that determined the clothes that you wore. After a while outdoors, watches and weather forecasts become irrelevancies; you take what comes and adapt where necessary. You’ll always get there eventually; there’s no point rushing around to a schedule.

Saturday morning was gorgeous. The larks were going at it full throttle and the shelters’ icy sheens had melted away to leave crispy dry flysheets. It was a leisurely start, rehydrating with hot orange, hot chocolate and coffee with the last of the cheese, bacon and tomato rolls I had lugged around the circuit.

Today we had all managed to pack up at about the same time, but Denis was still struggling with his back, which is a bit worrying as it put him out of the Challenge a couple of years ago.

We set off and called a halt almost straight away for the final 2013 PreWalkDaunder  team photo:

[AGAIN, PICTURES WILL GET BIGGER IF YOU CLICK ON THEM]

We had next to clamber over the ridge you see behind us, and surprisingly, I didn’t feel too bad, which must mean the EPO and intravenous iron must be kicking in at last to boost the blood count. I just felt “normally” knackered, as I’m from the flatlands and not used to struggling up boggy hills. I recalled, somewhat grimly, the previous year’s Daunder, when I realised that something was definitely wrong with the engine. It had transpired that my blood count at the time was about half what it should have been for a chap of my age.

I can see why Lance Armstrong likes EPO.

The route this morning was simply to hop over the ridge by Green Crag and slide down the other side to Grassguards and then to the stepping stones over the River Duddon. I’ll let the pictures tell the story.

Gerry, of course, clambered over the top of Green Crag. You just can’t curb some people’s enthusiasm.

Have you ever seen such a huge rucksack? When I sold it to the lad it was just 46 litres. I think he’s been feeding it steroids. We should demand a drug test.

Throughout the walk, we had all firmly stuffed our Ordnance Survey maps in our pockets. This was because Phil had let it slip that he was carrying a Harvey’s 1:25k map of the area. What a wonderful thing it was too. So Phil was elected map reader by default ~ everyone else having taken two steps backwards. Harveys are miles ahead in the mapping game compared to the O.S. Their maps are packed with really useful detail. And so it was that Phil was once again at the head of our procession heading down to Grassguards.

The walk down to the River Duddon is quite gloopy and so our shoes were all plastered in the stuff. The stepping stones through the splash were quite useful for washing them clean.

And so it was a relaxed crew that had lunch in the Newfield Inn. We had come through with just a couple of casualties; Wanda’s rear pole having sheared and Denis’s back having given him quite a bit of trouble. Hopefully there’s time for Denis to sort out his back and I have decided to take Wanda along on the Challenge in two weeks time with the pole spliced using a Hilleberg pole sleeve. I would still prefer to take an injured Wanda than risk it with a new tent. It will probably be the old girl’s last Challenge as there are other signs of terminal wear & tear as well. We’ll get through this Challenge together. I owe her that.

TGO Challenge 2013: PreWalkDaunder: Part II

I found myself at the back of a long line of Daunderers flogging my way up the slopes of Whitfell (572m)  I am pointing out this spot-height purely for journalistic integrity.

Phil (61) also seemed to be struggling. We put this down to lack of match fitness, the impossible burdens strapped to our backs and too many years of generally having too good a time.

Earlier this morning, we had eventually caught sight of Croydon (60), JJ (58) and our senior boy, Morpeth (72) a good distance ahead of us on the opposite side of Dunnerdale, seemingly going depressingly well. The main party was now made up of Phil, (you know his age; I won’t repeat myself) Gerry (68) Denis (68) Andy (59 but he tells the girls he’s 49) and me. (57) They were halfway up a very steep section of minor road that needed block & tackle to get the rest of the party to the same point.

Quite near the top of a particular nasty section (graded by all as “Severe”) Denis’s dodgy back called everyone to a halt. There seemed to be no way he could continue this pointless struggle uphill and carry on through the inevitable bogs of doom. Four eighths of the team had a conflab and selected a route for the suffering Weegie that would cut out all the day’s hills, and most of the bogs, and still enable the team to reform complete at the end of the day. Denis was seen whispering a few “Hail Mary’s” as we abandoned him at the roadside to continue our mission to re-unite the remainder of the fragmented team.

Eventually the inhospitable three were caught, as they lay about sunning themselves on the slopes of Whitfell. We were now back to seven Daunderers.

[PICTURES CAN BE CLICKED TO MAKE THEM BIGLY HUGE)

The reason they all look quite chirpy is that they have just been fed. Never snap a hungry Daunderer. It’s not pretty. The slopes of Whitfell are made up of that unusual combination of ankle deep bog at 30 degrees to the horizontal. Sapping stuff. Whoever told you that water ran downhill, eh?

Gerry, as is his wont, decided on bagging Whitfell and gambolled off to do just that as the rest of the party very sensibly sauntered off in a northerly direction to poke about Fox Crags and Stainton Pike (498m)

At last the weather was behaving itself and so we delighted in trundling over the various rocky outcrops, occasionally taking time out to sit and natter. This is what makes a Daunder.

However, I can’t do sitting about for too long as I get very cold and so before becoming hypothermic I slid off to get ahead, and positively zipped up Yoadcastle. (494m) If you have been reading your Eric Robson’s lately, you’ll know that this little rocky pimple is one of his favourite vantage points. And I have to say I agree with the beardy old boy. The next two pictures are taken from the top:

This little range of hills has top-drawer views.

Then we bowled downhill to Devoke Water, drinking the streams dry on the way. It’s thirsty work, this walking lark.

At Birkerthwaite we caught up with Denis who had been chatting to the farmer and his wife. They very kindly pointed out that we could camp more or less anywhere above their farm – an idyllic spot. We very sensibly chose the first dry bit of land in a sea of bog alongside Smallstone Beck. It was chosen as I decided I couldn’t be arsed going any further, as I was knackered.

If you were to turn through 180 degrees at this point, there was a commanding view of Birkerthwaite and Sellafield. Many of the Daunderers took arty photos of orange orb sunsets through the towers of nuclear fusion. I was tucked up inside Wanda tucking into a cheese & mushroom pasta dish at the time, keeping my own boilers fuelled up.

Gerry then produced a fine blue cheese, a flagon of red and a barrel of crackers. The rest of us produced flasks of various combinations of sloe gin, Rusty Nails, half a dozen whiskies and a splendid time was had by all watching the sun set, the Isle of Man disappear into a haze as vision and speech slowly blurred with the passing of time. We would all sleep well.