Updates from October, 2008

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    decoy 7:59 am on 20/12/2008 Permalink  

    Dolly 

    The new cat

     
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    solid 4:25 am on 13/12/2008 Permalink  

    yes indeed, the first thing i thought when i saw the stone people i thought they looked remarkably like your paintings!

    yes Mayumi has an iphone and it comes in very handy as a translator and gps device. Its like something out of 24 giving realtime satelite movement on googlemaps.

     
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    dodman 6:21 pm on 12/12/2008 Permalink  

    Keep the story coming 

    I wondered how you came by those kimonos. I must say, you look much more at home in them than Mama and I did in our Laurence of Arabia outfits in a kasbah in deepest Morocco where all the fiends were interested in was getting us so shamefacedly in their moral debt we had no choice but to unburden ourselves of hard currency.

     
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    decoy 12:59 pm on 12/12/2008 Permalink  

    iPhone 

    Nice photos Jul! liked the one of the noodles on the line and the frog impression is uncanny;-)

    Did I spot an iPhone on the table in one of the photos?

     
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    dodman 8:35 am on 12/12/2008 Permalink  

    Hot pool 

    Nice pics. Keep them coming.

    You don’t say much about the healing effects of the hot water … were there pools, as in NZ?

    Those stone chappies bear a remarkable resemblance to my Spanish Ladies …

    Perhaps my oeuvre should be exhibited in Japan?

     
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    solid 7:00 am on 12/12/2008 Permalink  

    Hello all! i recently went on a trip to Ikaho onsen area about 2 hours from tokyo. As it was my first trip to the more rural areas of Japan i was pretty excited. Onsens are hot spring baths sourced by presumably volcanic hotspots dotted all over Japan. this perticular one is famed for its rare iron rich spring. It is said that bathing or even drinking from the noxious fluid can heal all manner of ills. i eagerly awaited my perenial cold disapearing. I feel like numerous uncles from PG Wodehouse who take the waters for their health.

    we set off fairly early sunday morning and took a train for a couple of hours out of tokyo. Oddly enough i could not see the transition from tokyo to other towns. It all seems to blur together in a suburban sprawl. The few slightly open spaces seem to have been allocated to growing miles of cabbage. In fact this area was so taken with cabbage that in place of your more standard flower and or colourful plant in flowerbeds around town you have blooming cabbages of various shades green. delightful. we reached a cabbage flavoured town of outstanding dullness that nestled at the base of a dozen or so mountains and took a bus up into said mountains. The view was pleasing as you could see for miles and in the distance, snow covered peaks could be seen gleaming in the harsh winter sunlight.
    we were dropped of at a jolly township that looked like it’s delightfully old fashioned houses had been poured down the side of the mountains. it was a collection of steep roads and flagstone steps leading up to a temple at the top of the town. The air was brittle with cold and ice hid in the shadows were the sunlight couldn’t thaw it. After a short period of peering at our print out map and the town sign map and wondering why the two did not seem to corrispond in even a basic sense, we we got lost trying to find our hotel that turned out to be directly opposite were we had been dropped off.

    We left our bags at reception and headed out for some food. Mayumi had been recomended a restaurant that served possible the best Udon noodles in the land. Udon noodles are very thick and white and are generaly served in a broth which flavours them as slurp them down. We trecked for about 40 minutes along a winding mountain road, drinking in the delightful ambiance and air of glacial freshness. The resturant was situated in an Udon township of resturants and Udon makers. Clothelines drapes in drying Udon noodles flapped in the crisp breeze. We were pretty frozen at this point and were grateful to enter the pleasently warm restourant. the reception area was pretty impressive. All gleaming woods and pollished surfaces. Some prominant artist had an exhibition there as well much to Mayumi’s delight. After a short wait we were led into an enormous eating hall. Rows of long tables made of slablike chunks of pollished wood filled the room. Everything had a nice happy glow and the sounds of contented chewing.

    The food was the finest i have had in Japan, possible becourse we had built up quite the appertite on our little treck. it consisted of a large teaming bowl of unctuious udon noodles, some massive mushroom tempura (battered) and various bowls of strange liquid. The eating method is as follows: You spice the liquid bowls to taste with chilly/wasabi/onions/ginger and then taking a large bundle of udon with your chopstics you slither them into the liquid bowl. once you feel they have cooled and been coated in flavoursome liquid you cram them into your mouth and try not make a mess as you slurp them in. delightful! the same goes for the mushroooms which were big chunky things. like a fist sized lump of lichen. This you also dip into the sauce and munch down once it is saturated. obsolutely luscious! after this feast we went to visit the near by temple (below) this involved another hike up the side of a mountain. very scenic but pretty tiring. At the temple you lob a coin into a box, bang a large bell (presumably to wake up the resident god) and have a bit of a pray as is your want. there were many different smallish temples and mini shrines and it wasnt clear what religion they belong to. It doesnt really matter in Japan. Shinto and Budhism mix rather well together it seems. after that we walked the long walk back to the hotel feeling a bit strained and yearning for the the healing waters. Getting back after dark we checked in. I havent really been at the business end of Japanese customer service and its quite extraordinary. Much bowing and scraping and pretty much everything is done for you. Our bags had been left behind the reception counter and they were taken to be transported up to our room by a tiny old woman who seemed barely capably of carting her own sticklike form around. Mayumi tried to protest and rest her bag from the wizened septogenarian but she was having none of it, skuttling away and out of reach. In the lift up she seemed amazed that we had walked so far, and indeed i had noticed every one was using cars to get around. The room was palacial and had a pleasing view of the surounding countryside. we got dressed for the evening in our complimentary yukatas (kimono like robes) I rather liked mine i have to say but unfortunatly we couldn’t keep them. We then went our seperate ways to the female and male onsens in the hotel. Mixed onsens are not unheared of but not very popular. Inside the onsen there was a large pool about chest high with a raised lintel around the edge for sitting on. The precedure seems to differ from person to person but in general you head in and go to one of the many shower outlets that line the walls of the room. They are those fun hand held showers and you sit on a little plastic stool and wash yourself with the complementary soaps. Some people wash after rather than before and others do both. Everyone is ofcourse, offensivly naked. One can wear a towel, but i asume if you do then you are shunned like an outcast. After washing i slipped into the healing waters. It was lightly simmering, and after a few minutes it unknots the muscles and relaxes the mind. Very pleasent. there were about 4 people and they were all chatting away in a convivial way to each other. After a while the heat gets a bit much and you clamber out and sit on the edge to cool off. And then back for a bit more broiling. After the onsen i felt pretty genki(good feeling) and we had our evening meal. It was pretty diverse with many small portions. Some really tasty and others deeply horrible. The platter of sashimi (raw fish) was good, and so was the nuggets of fried blowfish (which Mayumi assured me was not poisonous) the fish custard on the other hand was an aquired taste, and the less said about the pickled radish the better. I had miso soup for the first time in japan and it was actualy pretty good dispite my misgivings. The tea is also passable. Not unlike the hot water +leaf that is drunk at home. After the meal we relaxed for a bit with a few cans of chu hi. we had sake with the meal but niether of us could stomach its strong flavour. At around ten in the evening we were informed that our private onsen was avalable. This was on the roof and only avalable for an hour. Open air onsens are by far the superior hot pool experiance. It was a bitterly cold cloudless night with the moon beaming down at us and the plumes of steam rising from the pool. Also its never possible to 100% relax when there is a bunch of random naked chaps hanging about and heaving themselves around the pool like a bunch of pink hippos. So Mayumi and i peered at the night sky and listened to the muted kareoke warblings coming from somewere in the building. Perfect.
    The next day checked out and explored the town. It was a steep hike up the stairs and in our hunt for the source of the hot spring we clambed up half the mountain. We gave up after about the fifth small summet and returned to the bottom by cablecar. We then went to a farm resort thing. It was mostly closed and a bit of a wash out. At one point some chap goes by leading an enormous fresian cow and telling us the the cow milking school was starting in a few minutes. so we hung about with a bunch of wide eyed japanese people who possible have never seen a cow before and soon enough the milking started. It was pretty extraordinary. One grips the teat and squeezes with the index finger and then each finger down consequtivly in a fluid movement. The milk then shoots out at a high velocity. The strange thing it that the teat is actually hollow and fills with milk after each squeeze. sort of like a water balloon with a small hole in it. the other highlight was an arthouse which unfortunatly was closed but outside had a bunch of strange art including the stone chaps below. After that it was back to tokyo and we met up with alex for a drink at the 300 yen bar. All in all a highly pleasent weekend!

     
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    dodman 12:43 pm on 09/12/2008 Permalink  

    Hallelujah 

    A couple of explanations for the greatest song ever written, from a John Cale forum.

    King David saw Bathsheba bathing from his roof. He fell in love & got Bathsheba pregnant. David arranged a furlough for her husband the soldier, Uriah, but he was saving himself for war and wouldn’t touch her. So David had him put in the front line of battle where he would be killed. The people could count and figured it out, causing political problems, but the son Absolom died later. David grieved famously for the boy, but I think it was just too convenient. It was Sampson who got his hair cut. David played the harp and composed most of the Psalms. I think the secret chord was Em.

    Actually, in the story of David and Bathsheba, I believe that Bathsheba’s husband was already out of town when David slept with her. David confessed his sin to the priest Samuel after marrying Bathsheba and truly regretted having the husband killed. The son died, but David and Bathsheba had another son, who grew up to become King Solomon.

    The part about the hair is indeed from the story of Samson. Before he was born, an angel came to his mother and told her that he would grow up to become a great and powerful man, but that he must never cut his hair or consume alcoholic beverages, or he would lose his strength. He followed these rules and was tremendously powerful and had many adventures smiting Philistines. However, his lover Delilah betrayed him to his enemies, the Philistines, pestering him until he told her the secret of his strength and then cutting his hair so that the Philistines could capture him. This story is in the book of Judges in the Bible, and the story of David is in either 1 or 2 Kings.

    A recap of the lyrics:

    Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord
    That David played, and it pleased the Lord
    But you don’t really care for music, do you?
    It goes like this
    The fourth, the fifth
    The minor fall, the major lift
    The baffled king composing Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

    Your faith was strong, but you needed proof
    You saw her bathing on the roof
    Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
    She tied you
    To a kitchen chair
    She broke your throne and she cut your hair
    And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

    Baby I’ve been here before
    I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
    I used to live alone before I knew you
    I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
    love is not a victory march
    it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

    Hallelujah, Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah

    There was a time you let me know
    What’s really going on below
    but now you never show it to me, do you?
    And remember when I moved in you
    the holy dove was moving too
    And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

    Hallelujah, Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah

    Maybe there’s a God above
    but all I ever learned from love
    Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
    It’s no complaint you hear tonight
    It’s not some pilgrim who’s seen the light
    it’s a cold and it’s a lonely(/broken )Hallelujah

    You say I took the Name in vain
    I don’t even know the Name
    But if I did, well really, what’s it to you?
    There’s a blaze of light
    In every word
    It doesn’t matter which you heard
    The holy or the broken Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

    I did my best, it wasn’t much
    I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
    I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
    And even though
    It all went wrong
    I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
    With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah
    Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

     
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    decoy 9:36 pm on 01/12/2008 Permalink  

    An excellent quote from Stephen Fry 

    Just heard this on an episode of QI I’d recorded:

    “…and I use the word book very loosely… like the Da Vinci Code. It is complete loose stool-water, it is arse-gravy of the worst kind.”

    :-D

     
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    solid 10:27 am on 01/12/2008 Permalink  

    Hello! Its been a while since i last blogged!

    Not much has happened of note though. Went to my first traditional Japanese garden the other day. I was delightful. very calm and artfully constructed. The trees especialy looked resplendant in brilliant reds and browns. the only bad point was a group of Japanese Tourists (oddly enough) which was led by an officious woman brandishing a microphone, her bellowing voice eminating from a speaker strapped to her ample stomach. dispite this we had a jolly time. then the sun went down and it turned bitterly cold. the temperature difference is extrordinary. In the mornings the sky is clearn and the sun beams down and its nice and toasty. around five the sun sets behind a collosal skyscraper and frost starts to appear in ones beard. last night i was cought without my leathern jacket and if it wasnt for Mayumi lending me her scarf i might have cought a nasty cold. That is to say, if i didnt already have a nasty cold nestling in my lungs.

    The house is still ticking along nicely with everyone pulling thier wait in some fashion. A few of us went to a local resturaunt the last saturday. It was my first time there but Carol and Bart have been there so often that they are now regarded as minor celebraties. everyone was brimming with good cheer and the food was delicious. and in vast quantaties. First we had Sashimi and i managed to take too much Wasabi with my slab of chuna and gave everyone a good chortle as i coughed and spluttered, eyes streaming. then we had many courses of varying tastiness. Every one was really nice and helped us translate the menu. There was a fairly drunk chappy who took a shine to the females in the group and kept on afforing everyone a slurp from his bottle of Sho Chu (a deeply horrible alcohol). His kind offer was slightly mared by the light rain of spit that issued forth wenever he spoke, which was often. This repulsant mist landing indiscriminatly on food and people. luckily i was out of range though i had a good view of him broadsiding the girl oposite me. It didnt help that his mouth contained fangs that would have made even the most unselfconsious horse feel bad about itslef and head to a dentist. Undismayed by our refusals he bought us a pot of pickle vegetables for out table. I took a bite from something long and purple. It tasted like paint thinner. Smilling weakly around the mouthfull and advised the others to tuck in. They declined.
    We ate absurd amounts and paid a pittance becourse the owner likes us. Fantastic place! ill take some pictures next time. speaking of pictures, here are some crummy ones from my phone of the garden.

     
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    dodman 10:51 am on 20/11/2008 Permalink  

    Doing our bit for wildlife 

    The house sparrow has been added to the list of species identified by the UK Biodiversity Action Plan as in need of greater protection. The study, published in the journal Animal Conservation, concluded that the decline in house sparrows in Britain began in the mid-1980s. In London, numbers fell by 60% between 1994 and 2004.

    Gardeners could help sparrows by “being lazy, doing nothing and allowing the garden to be a little bit scruffy”.

    As anyone who’s been at Gainsford around dawn or dusk can testify, the house sparrows make so much noise residents can barely hear themselves think.

     
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    dodman 7:56 pm on 18/11/2008 Permalink  

    Boarding 

    Things started well …

    … but a fickle wind ended the boarding session at Joliffe Road.

     
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    dodman 8:03 pm on 14/11/2008 Permalink  

    Long winded 

    Mama asked me to write up the second half of the week for the visitor’s book. Unfortunately, I got a bit carried away. Too much ‘blather’, she said; and she was right.

    SKIDDAW

    On Tuesday morning, after watching yet another rubbishy 20/20 cricket match on a flat pitch in Antigua, we were dropped off by Granny at Ravensgate Hotel, from where we began the steep climb up to Skiddaw. What started as a promising morning, chilly but bright, turned into a ravagingly cold ascent. Even the considerable effort of climbing failed to melt the numbing effect of the Polar blast hitting us full in the face as we struggled up and down the long ridge which led in a half horseshoe to the scree slope in the distance. I was wearing shorts but my legs were relatively warm; it was the cheeks, despite hats and hoods, that seemed most vulnerable.

    There was a shepherd at the top of the ridge, leaning on his stick and occasionally bellowing into the wind, while his dog scampered around trying to drive small pockets of sheep down the same path. Looking round, it was hard to grasp how a relatively small number of animals on these fells had ensured not a single tree or shrub should grow.

    Scrambling up the scree was hard work, even though we remembered how coming down it on a previous occasion had been even harder. There was already a light scattering of snow, with more falling as we walked. Puddles of ice greeted us at the top, along with the full force of the wind, which was savage. We sheltered behind a small mound of rocks, to eat our sandwiches and drink from our flasks. The lettuce in the sandwiches tasted like thin sheets of glutinous frost; snapping a bar of chocolate was almost more than my hands were capable of.

    Our descent began easily enough, heading down the main path to Keswick, even though it was still bitingly cold. The further we went, the sorrier I became for all those passing us on their way up, because they seemed to be coming from a much pleasanter place, judging by their smiles and scanty clothing. In fact, shortly afterwards, as we ’stepped into’ that place, it felt like using Philip Pullman’s Subtle Knife to go from one world to another. Suddenly, the wind had dropped, the air was warm, the sky was blue and the sun shone.

    We ambled back the rest of the way, through a glorious autumn afternoon,. Arriving at the Lodge, we spent a long time in the Solarium, thawing out the deeper parts of our bones.

    CAUSEY PIKE

    We had difficulty deciding on a climb today as we wanted to conserve ourselves for Blencathra later in the week and yet not to have to drive far, if we could help it. Causey Pike seemed an ideal 4-5 hour scramble; and so it proved. It was another freezing cold morning, with hardly any sun, but the wind was relatively gentle, and we soon got warm as we climbed up onto the first summit, from which we could see our eventual destination in the distance. The views as a whole were pretty good from here, especially of the ’Newlands Round’, a picturesque ridge we had walked several years previously.

    We reached a plateau of soft grass which would have been ideal to sit and eat on had it not been so cold and wet; as it was, we walked on to the windblown summit, where we gazed around for a few moments, before beginning our descent, eventually finding a small space in the craggy landscape, alongside the path, where we crouched for lunch. As we ate, snow began to fall, lightly at first, then more heavily. A group of three passed us, one by one, each flinging a wisecrack in our direction as he went. One asked if the coffee shop on the summit was still open, another wondered why he had chosen the Lakes rather than the Canaries for his holiday, and the third was concerned to know if it was ’cold enough’ for us. Then a lone straggler appeared above, wending his way down on matchstick legs and a pair of fluorescent poles. He reminded me of one of those four legged creatures from the War of the Worlds. His legs seemed to be assisting the poles rather than the other way around.

    As usual, as soon as we got back we made a beeline for the solarium. Later, we watched another uninspiring 20/20 match.

    BLENCATHRA

    Michelle, Chris and I had intended doing a full days orienteering while Olivier, Henry and Edward did rock climbing; but in the event, the day before we were all due to meet up, John White announced that his equipment – his ropes, his maps, everything – had mistakenly been taken to London by his colleague, who wouldn’t be back until the next day; so we headed to Bencathra instead, for another stab at Hall’s Fell, on what looked like it would be a clear day.

    We parked at the top of the lane above Underscar, and tramped the few miles to Threkveld. We could see the summit of Blencathra in the distance and it looked distinctly unthreatening. There were no clouds in the vicinity. The sunlight was patchy, the wind strong. But it wasn’t as cold as it had been and prospects seemed good.

    We got to the foothills of Hall’s Fell and started climbing. Within minutes, Edward and Henry were far ahead, Olivier, Michelle and I bunched up in the middle, and Chris labouring behind, pausing every few yards to ’take in the view’. I tried vainly to remember at what point the going would get seriously tough, but guessed this time it wouldn’t, since conditions were relatively easy.

    We arrived at the beginning of the rocky portion and paused, considering whether to have lunch early. Suddenly, there was an almighty gust of wind, which heralded a mini tempest, during which any one of us could easily have been blown off the mountain. The air howled, hurling us from side to side. Holding my Tashkent hat firmly on my head, while gripping the edge of a crag, I looked around and was disconcerted to notice thick, lowering clouds appearing from the East. I craned my neck and peered up at the Summit. It looked distinctly threatening, and was clearly covered with snow and ice. Why hadn’t I noticed this before? And why hadn’t I taken to heart the warning in Wainwright that during such conditions this route was for experienced climbers only.

    We decided to head immediately to the top and eat later. We began hauling ourselves up the increasingly slippery rock. I was becoming markedly tense. I had no worries for myself, but I felt a definite responsibility for everyone else, since I had chosen this particular route. I muttered something about ‘sticking together’, whereupon all the members of our party started heading off in different directions. Just then, like a curtain falling, thick mist came down, accompanied by another blast of icy wind.

    The next half hour was like a passage into Hell. The rock was slippery, it was fiendishly cold, I couldn’t recognise the path, nobody seemed to know where Edward was, Michelle kept saying she remembered an easier way, the snow was getting thicker, the mist swirled, and I became more and more concerned that we had chosen the wrong day for this climb. At one point, we met a couple of climbers on their way down. Asking about conditions further up, they said it was windier, colder, much more slippery, and visibility was non existent. Huzzah, I thought.

    Michelle’s palsied musculature was beginning to worry me. She could lift her leg and shove her foot onto a makeshift step; she could reach up and grasp a couple of handholds; but she seemed unable to translate that into moving forwards and upwards. I hovered beneath her, lending assistance where I could, worried we were getting left behind. At one point, she spied what looked to her like an easier path, and scurried down it before I could stop her. I hurried behind. Needless to say, the path arrived at a dead end. We looked up and behind. Way above us, we saw the outline of Chris in the mist. He beckoned us on, saying the best way was straight up the rock face in front of us.

    How we scaled that cliff, I have no idea. Every so often, pushing at Michelle from beneath to winch her upwards, I glanced over my shoulder and saw nothing but sharp, rocky outcrops below us, glistening with wet lichen and pockets of slippery frost. Once or twice, I succumbed to morbidly imagining us missing a step, faltering and then falling …

    Arriving at the top – which was still a long was from the real top – we ran into a bottleneck. Chris was on the other side of a gully, with Edward, but Henry was having difficulty. There was a chunk of rock shaped like an elongated horse’s back that had to be clambered over, with a sheer drop on either side. Henry had got half way, then decided against it and came back. As he did so, a Lucozade bottle fell from his pocket and slithered down the mountainside. I said I would get it, before seeing where it had gone, and changing my mind. Olivier slithered across the horse’s back. Michelle followed, but got stuck halfway. Instead of sitting, she ended up lying full length on the rock, unable to move forwards.

    Without thinking about it, I climbed round to her side and helped her on, inch by inch, with Olivier pulling from his end. It was like trying to manoeuvre a sack of rubble upstairs. Eventually, she was brought onto sure footing on the other side, and clamoured away. I hopped up and followed her, glancing back to see how Henry was doing. By this time, Olivier was trying to talk him across. I looked at where I had bypassed the horse‘s back, and realised I had basically been standing on thin air, above the route Henry‘s bottle had taken on its way down.. I shuddered, before hurrying on. Olivier and Henry soon followed.

    The rest of the ascent was a daze. My neck was so tense – more with worry than effort – I thought a muscle might snap. The only thing that held me together was the certain knowledge that the top of Blencathra came without warning, was almost certainly nearer than I thought, and that once we got there, this time – unlike on the previous occasion – I knew the way down!

    We arrived at the top and I gave a loud cheer, which was drowned out by a violent gust of wind. Chris appeared to be on his mobile, making a Stanland call; but in fact he was taking a photo. We all took photos. There was general jubilation. We had made it!

    We sped down the relatively simple track homeward. I didn’t entirely relax until we were clear of the mist. Never again, I kept saying to myself; never again.

    Needless to say, by the time we arrived back at the car park, all sign of mist and cloud had vanished from Blencathra, which looked as serene as it had at the outset.

    ORIENTEERING AND ROCK CLIMBING

    I hadn’t liked the idea of rock climbing one bit, but in actuality it was great fun. We carried our kit – helmets, harnesses and ropes – up a fairly steep incline, until we got to the foot of a forty foot rock wall. John clambered round the back of this and attached his ropes to what he assured us were very safe anchorages, while we put harnesses and helmets on. The ropes were then lowered down to our level.

    He showed us the double figure of eight knot with which we attached one end of the rope to our harnesses, and the simple but vital ‘belay’ pulley system that the other end was attached to, which in turn attached itself to the harness of the person destined to remain below. The idea was, someone would climb, essentially under their own steam, while the rope that led from them, up the rock face, through the anchorages, and down to the ‘belay’ person below, would be kept just short of taut, all the time, so if the climber lost their footing they would have a minimal distance to fall.

    Michelle climbed first, with Olivier as ‘belay’. I was the ‘Buddy’, which meant I held the rope behind Olivier, just in case. Being the Buddy was fairly simple. Belaying looked a lot harder. Hardest of all, presumably, was climbing, and I couldn’t believe how swiftly Michelle ascended a rock face that was far, far more difficult than the crags she had had such difficulty with the day before.

    On reaching the top, the belay person was instructed to ensure the rope was fully taut, and then give the climber the instruction to let go of the rock with their hands,, grasp the rope, lean backwards into space, and ‘walk’ down the rock face at more or less a fifty degree angle.

    This took some courage, and I didn’t fancy it one bit; but when it was my turn, I did it, somehow; and once I had done it, I was keen to do it again. The climbing itself was made much, much easier by the knowledge that if I did slip, I would be safe. In fact, none of us slipped, which was amazing. The worst part was when I was Olivier’s belay man. The pulley arrangement meant that the process of taking up slack and keeping the rope just short of taut was relatively easy. The hard part was lowering the climber down again. It wasn’t physically hard. The strain on the rope was so slight it could easily be held with two fingers. The trouble was, it was too easily held, so I was fooled into thinking that if I didn’t hold it at all it would hardly pass any faster through my fingers than if I only slightly held it … so, for a brief moment, Olivier’s descent was probably faster than he might have wished.

    It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest we abandon the idea of orienteering for the afternoon and do some extended rock climbing instead; but mindful of the potential dangers, and the fact that it was very cold, and climbing in gloves wasn’t possible, and also that we probably needed the map skills more, I kept quiet.

    The orienteering turned out to be very revealing. Clearly, there are two ways of looking at a map. One is to see where you think you are on paper, and then to look around the landscape for distant, distinct features to prove this; the other way is to look on the map at more immediate features, adjacent to where you think you are, and then to verify whether they are present on the ground. It turned out, there was a lot of information on a map, including the twists and turns in contour lines, signs for boulders, ruins, minor paths, that I had simply never noticed before.

    The key to determining matters with certainty was knowing how far you had gone when walking from where you thought you were to a particular feature.. If the distance travelled equated to the distance shown, then it was easy to be sure where you were. If it didn’t, you would know very quickly. Pacing a hundred metres was a cinch, once we had been shown how. All this, of course, could be done in mist!

    We also took bearings. I remembered asking a bloke at the top of Blencathra, on our previous foray there, again in thick mist, for the route down, only to be told, witheringly, to ‘take a bearing’. This was a bit more complicated than simply looking at a compass, with magnetic North needing to be taken into account; but by the end we managed to find our way to an obscure cairn, across boggy terrain, using only our compasses, pacing out the distance in metres as measured in millimetres on our maps. For the first time I thanked Napoleon for the absence of imperial measurements. Working things out in feet and inches would have been a nightmare.

    As dusk fell, we made our way back. It was bitterly cold and I felt a physical wreck. I hadn’t properly recovered from the tension of the day before, on Blencathra; the rock climbing – particularly letting go of the rock and ‘walking’ backwards down it – is enough to drain the resources of anyone not accustomed to it. I did feel more confident on the ground, though. As I said to John, it was a rare experience for me to go on a walk and not get lost, but I had never had enough patience with maps to do more than glance at them, before.

    As we walked back to the cars, he asked what we had climbed so far that week. I mentioned the various places, ending with Blencathra. His eyes lit up, as he wondered which way we had climbed. Hall’s Fell, I answered. Aha, he said. A climber’s climb. Then he added something about three fatalities on Blencathra so far this year.

    Thankfully, we missed the last 20/20 match, in which England were pulverised.

     
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    dodman 11:19 am on 03/11/2008 Permalink  

    Self-arrest after a nasty run out to the East 

    A FEW VIDEOS:

    Lakes08

    I found these quotes online:

    “I had a walk up Hall’s Fell ridge in April 2005 (snow and verglass) with a club (no names) which I thought was out of order without ice axes and knowledge of self-arrest. Even the easy scrambles should not be underestimated. Esp. Hall’s fell which has a nasty run out to the east.”

    “I once came within a whisker of serious injury in that area trying to scramble on wet granite in atrocious weather and only a last gasp effort to extract myself from a precarious perch prevented me eventually getting tired and dropping from a great height with the obvious consequences.”

    GLARAMARA

    SKIDDAW

    CAUSEY PIKE

    BLENCATHRA

    ROCK CLIMBING

     
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    decoy 8:27 pm on 01/11/2008 Permalink  

    Photos from the lakes 

    We did four lengthy walks this year:
    Glaramara
    We happened to pick the very walk that marked the start of the the Fell Run that was abandoned due the bad weather. There were still loads of cars stranded and fell runners setting off or returning. Glaramara was ok, but didn’t have a particularly interesting peak.

    Skiddaw
    Granny dropped us off at the Ravenstone hotel so that we could take the more interesting ascent to the base of Skiddaw. The skree path up to the top was as steed as ever and the top was covered in snow and very windy.

    Causy Pike
    Very pleasant, with a good, steep ascent. 

    Blencathra
    Crip, Hen and Ed drove over in the morning to partake in the quality Hall’s Fell Ridge ascent. All looked promising initially as it was very clear and there seemed to be no sign of impending mist. Needless to say however, the mist descended about halfway up and coupled with snow and arctic winds made for a tricky scramble.

     
  •

    decoy 1:32 pm on 30/10/2008 Permalink  

    The top of Blencathra 

    The mist!

     
  •

    dodman 8:56 pm on 21/10/2008 Permalink  

    Visit 

    Link to videos
    Autumn08

     
  •

    decoy 5:00 pm on 18/10/2008 Permalink  

    Rio and Orlando come to stay 

     
  •

    decoy 10:08 pm on 07/10/2008 Permalink  

    a vid from the weekend 

     
  •

    dodman 11:37 am on 01/10/2008 Permalink  

    Sucker 

    Someone just sent me this email. Believe it or not, I had the phone in my hand to call you to check whether you had entrusted your funds to one of these banks …

    “Following the problems in the sub-prime lending market in America and the banking problems in the UK, uncertainty has now hit Japan. This morning Origami Bank has folded, Sumo Bank has gone belly up and Bonsai Bank announced plans to cut some of its branches. Yesterday, it was announced that Karaoke Bank is up for sale and will likely go for a song, while today shares in Kamikaze Bank were suspended after they nose-dived. While Samurai Bank is soldiering on following sharp cutbacks, Ninja Bank is reported to have taken a hit, but they remain in the black. Furthermore, 500 staff at Karate Bank got the chop and analysts report that there is something fishy going on at Sushi Bank where it is feared that staff may get a raw deal.”

     
  •

    solid 9:25 am on 01/10/2008 Permalink  

    nice photos! i am currently at work. pondering between lessons. my internet is not working and we are having a difficult time getting it fixed. mainly as the support center is in japanese. most stressful. the apple store near my work is getting a bit fed of me traipsing in and pretending to peer at the insanely expensive imacs while i check my emails on the sly. we should get it up and running soon or we will get a new provider.

     

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