The Monthly Newsletter of Chelmsford YHA Local Group
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Scotland 2000 Those of you that couldn't join us missed an absolutely cracking trip. We were extraordinarily lucky with the weather, surviving the mostly brief showers to be baked in brilliant sunshine.
Tom left us mid-week to return to Skye so he could tick off his last Cuillin Munro left over from last year's trip. Full details of the In-Pinn adventure below.
See also some more pictures of our trip. A brilliant week. So where shall we go next year? Not a Cloud in the Skye Last year Dave J and I took a scrambling course on the Cuillin in an attempt to climb all 12 Skye Munros, but bad weather left us one short, the notorious Inaccessible Pinnacle Sgurr Dearg. With just 23 summits left in the whole of Scotland I decided to take up the Cuillin Guides’ offer of a free day at the end of our Scotland trip.
Saturday morning dawned cloudless but still breezy. His cat warmly greeted me but Gerry Ackroyd, the most acclaimed guide of these hills, has a reputation for a sterner nature. Today he seemed in a good mood, glorious weather meaning a good day at the office. He had two other customers, two lads from Clydeside both called Alan and hoping to do the round of Coire Lagan There were few words spoken on the 2hr ascent I was powered by adrenaline and too busy admiring the view to notice the tired legs at the end of a demanding week. On arrival at the summit of Sgurr Dearg my nerves settled as I got my first close-up of the pinnacle. Gerry returned from a trip round its south flank moaning "A two-hour queue, there’s forty waiting, we’re going up the short side." He took the rope up the near-vertical face casually pointing out the holds and the moves like a schoolmaster in front of a blackboard. Alan 1 was first up with no trouble and his friend offered me next slot. Another hopeful climber asked me "Did your lead guy put much protection in?" I smiled politely and responded "He soloed it" The first holds were small and polished and the rock was cold having been in shade all morning. I soon worked out the moves and even surprised Gerry by my speed of ascent. Off-belay I couldn’t wait to scramble to the very top, gingerly manoeuvring my backside onto the precarious rock with vertical drops on both sides. This was the moment I’d waited for, a dream of a clear day on ‘The Misty Isle’ had been fulfilled; there was just the small matter of getting down. Alan 2 apologised for not fathoming out how to work my camera as he joined us on the summit. There was a long line of people scrambling up the airy east face but I’d been totally unfazed by the ascent of the west face. Abseiling off was as much fun again, gazing up at the tower in front of me framed by the blue sky. I was so impressed that I forgot about the ground and sat down with a bump. We traversed the ridge as far as the top of the An Stac screes then it was time for me to get off, presumably unless I’d paid extra. I offered a tenner for his trouble even though the day was part of last year’s course. I said my farewells then ran the screes and walked out of Coire Lagan amid the most spectacular rock scenery in Britain.
Tom Adventures on Arkle - the tale according to Polly. Three things to note before reading this article:
It was possibly my finest hour. I knew that Lorna was longing to re-acquaint herself with the infamous John Ridgeway, and that I, Polly, could contrive a meeting. This is how I did it. My mistress and I set off in the sunshine, limping along the track to the hill called Arkle, pausing only to admire the view. I introduced myself to the gamekeeper since I knew I might need him and his off-road vehicles in the execution of my plan. He did not seem busy and from the kitchen I could detect the odour of freshly opened cans of dog food. So far so good.
The offer was tempting, but since falling into the Great Ouse that time, I have realised that I am not a water-dog. Also I knew Mr Ridgeway's reputation (as a former paratrooper) and was afraid he might require me to climb the mast, fix the rigging and obey orders at all times (which I find impossible). So I declined his offer, pointing out that I had obligations to the other members of my team which I must meet. He obviously understood, but invited me to accompany him down the hill so that he could hear about my many exploits and achievements, suggesting I should write a book called 'Road to Ridgeway' or 'No Place for Polly'. I told him that I'd thought about it many times, but although I have celebrity status and such a volume would undoubtedly be a best seller - I actually have more important things to do such as planning my next expedition, licking my paws and dragging my lead around the kitchen floor. Again, I think he understood. Back at the bothy, Mr Ridgeway gave me tea and digestive biscuits (not knowing my preference for chocolate ones) and said he felt privileged to have met me at last and asking me if there was anything else he could do for me before returning to Ardmore. Being an opportunist I took full advantage of this auspicious occasion, explaining that I owed Lorna a favour after scratching a hole in her car upholstery the day before, and she'd really like to see him again after 20 years, and that I'd appreciate it if he could stop briefly and speak to her. Mr Ridgeway kindly agreed, and as I watched them embracing in the carpark as the sun set over Ben Stack, I smiled the doggy smile of satisfaction. A challenge met and overcome, the perfect execution of my plan! Polly Memories of Scotland Pounding waves on Durness beach, pink sunsets, fresh and bracing air, wild flowers underfoot, "lunar" landscape of rock and heather, dotted with indigo pools. .jpg)
Sunshine and snow on top of Cairngorm, magenta sky as we cycled back, jive dancing! Plus, of course, everything else - Balnakeil beach, the views from the tops, meeting JR, bagging peaks, huddling in Colin's "big thing", adventures with Polly, the Smoo Hotel Murphys, Colin the Caveman, friendly helpful wardens, watching Gerry chasing skirt, Ian's energy, everyone's enthusiasm. Lorna Suffolk Walk & Barbie
Thanks to Janet and Chris for being such excellent hosts and to Bethany, Maria, Nathan and Kimbal for entertaining us and cooling us down with that watering can. Also Janet would like to thank everyone who supported her fundraising for Macmillan nurses. She's raised around £50. Pitch & Putt The 101st CYHA Open championship was held at the world famous Royal Waterhouse Lane course recently. A healthy turnout of intrepid golfers set out at 7.30pm. The leading group of Tom, Jim and I had a good start, all of us either finding the water immediately or sending the ball in any direction other than the flag. I proved particularly adept at hitting trees, if there was a tree anywhere near the fairway I would hit it and usually rebound off it to a position behind the start point. As the round proceeded and the shots got wilder the language got fouler, so much that even Robert would blush. It is rumoured that Michelle in a group following us got a hole in 2 - a magnificent achievement. Tom won our particular battle with a score, if I remember rightly, of about 50 over par, next stop the Ryder Cup!!
Dave J The Appeal of Mountaineering Wednesday evening, four of us, Trudi, Lorna, Dave and Gerry, met at the Royal Festival Hall for a talk given by journalist David Rose and mountaineer Julie-Ann Clyma about the life of Alison Hargreaves who tragically died five years ago on K2 during a fierce storm. It was a touching discussion which included aspects of her personal life where she suffered physical abuse. This came as a shock to us as this fact is not widely publicised. Also discussed was the media opposition to Alison climbing as a mother of young children, and more generally the motivation of climbers who risk their lives, and the public reaction. Gerry |
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As
I crossed over the bridge to Skye I listened to a perfect weather
forecast on a perfect evening, picking out the western Isles as the
country’s most favoured spot. I lay awake that night however
listening to the wind moaning through the rafters of Glenbrittle
hostel with a fear of the exposed blade of the in-pin..jpg)
I
picked up the scent of J.R. on the path leading from the bothy. I'd
never met him, but I'd heard so much about him from Auntie Lorna that
I knew immediately I was on right track. We limped on through the
heather and up into the boulder fields. Here the scent was harder to
follow and when Trudi sat down on the heather (and fell asleep) I felt
my plan was in jeopardy! I lay beside her and had a brief snack before
catching a glimpse of the great man himself on the hill (or perhaps it
was a ptarmigan). Anyway, from that moment, my version of events
differs from that of my mistress. She claims I ran around on the hill
until I became disorientated and tired and then waited for a passer by
to carry me down the hill to the waiting Landrover and the comfort of
supper in the gamekeepers kitchen. I recall introducing myself to Mr
Ridgeway, falling at his feet and smiling my most ingratiating smile
(knowing that he doesn't like dogs). He did however recognise that I
am not in fact a fawning and dependant creature that likes it's tummy
being tickled, but a spirited dog with a taste for adventure (and
therefore a kindred spirit) and seeing these qualities in me,
suggested that I may like to return to Essex with him on his boat in
early July. The plan was that I would be left at Burnham-on-Crouch
from where my grateful mistress would collect me.
Hot
or what? A super walk in the Suffolk countryside in baking sunshine
and a soaring pollen count. Accompanying us were various children
tucked into backpacks and wheeled contraptions and even on foot!
Afterwards we cooled off with iced water on the lawn at Chris and
Janet's before the barbecue was stoked up for a mammoth feeding
session. Very civilised and utterly delicious!