exploring, etc provides guided walks in Northumberland. We also offer navigation courses and wild camping adventures. We lead walking holidays, long distance walks and expeditions in Northumberland, the Lake District, Scotland and further afield. We also offer rock climbing sessions in Northumberland.
I've got a bit of a mission for 2015. Cheapskate Adventures
A big part of my life has been getting outside and going on adventures. In the new year I want to focus on encouraging people to give the outdoors a go.
Here's three good reasons.
Get Fit
For the price of a gym membership for a couple of months you can get a second-hand push bike and start exploring! Why sit on a fake bike watching crap telly when you could be on a real adventure? If you have "a few extra pounds" you should do something about it.
Go somewhere beautiful
Britain is a beautiful country full of rivers, woods, hills, mountains, lakes, craggy coastlines, sandy beaches and islands. I live in Newcastle, a big city, and within an hour of cycling you are out into some fantastic scenery.
It doesn't have to be expensive
If you want to do something a lot then it's best if you can keep costs down. Getting away on a weekend adventure doesn't necessarily require a lot of expensive stuff.
So the plan for 2015 is to write about a short trip each month. I will write two articles. One telling the story of a cheap trip I've been on and a more practical article giving a route description, map, information and tips on how to get out there and how to do it.
If you'd like to join me on a trip through the year or you have an idea for a Cheapskate Adventure please get in touch. I think the fun to be had in the mountains or on the water should be accessible for everyone. So I'd be especially keen to hear from you if you want to be a bit more adventurous but feel there's something that's stopping you.
Conrad laughed. And I had meant it as a joke. Who else would choose to walk off rainy day to spend the night in a cave? We were genuinely surprised when we met a family group of eight already snuggled up playing a game of cards, and taking up most of the cave.
We'd spent the day climbing in the lakes and parked the car by the Brothers Water Inn and walked straight through a perfectly good campsite. A perfectly good campsite next to a pub. We carried on walking in the rain and followed the Dovedale valley.
With the light fading and the misty conditions it required a bit of careful navigation to get to the right spot. Priest's Hole is marked on the map but when were sure we were in the right spot we still couldn't find it. We looked up and down the bottom of the crag and then found a path leading up. After a short scramble we found it.
The family were nice enough to let us budge up and give us a narrow corner of the Hole to kip down.
In the morning, the mist had lifted and we were treated to a beautifully framed view of the hills around. We were also treated to a mug of tea and a bowl of porridge by the much better equipped family. Thanks!
We had one route in mind: the Nordkante on Piz Badile. A 1000m long line of immaculate granite. It's the sort of route that gets people saying "the finest route in the Alps" and that sort of thing.
The only trouble was that it was raining.
Another trouble was that the route starts in Switzerland and finishes in Italy. So while it rained we sat in the colourful Kandaluna cafe in San Martino in the Val de Mello and discussed logistics. We stared at the guidebook. It was in German, so the staring didn't help that much. We looked at the walk around to Switzerland. It was a long walk, had two high passes and might need crampons. We looked at the trip around via public transport. It looked like a ball-ache.
The next morning we woke up to sunshine and decided to hire a bouldering mat. According to a plaque, bouldering was invented here. It must be tricky to pin down when a climber first started training/messing around on boulders. We had a fun morning in a meadow by a river trying our hand at bouldering. The hard routes were too scary and hard. The easy routes were too scary and hard. But we got used to the granite.
In the afternoon we decided to go and climb something proper. A four pitch route called Tunnel Diagonal. The hardest bit was finding it as our German guidebook had drawn a lake in the wrong place on a map. The climb was great and whet our appetites for more.
But the rain returned.
Rather than mope about in the rain we walked up to the Omio hut and spent the night there. It was a good move. Getting up high gave us a boost. This is what we'd come for: Mountains!
In the morning it was still raining. We had a leisurely breakfast, read our books, felt frustrated by the rain, and then walked down to the valley again.
After a night in a swanky mountaineering centre accommodation, we felt frustrated, so we walked back up. This time we took our climbing stuff and planned to stay in the Giannetti hut for a few days and see what we could get done.
We arrived in rain, had a beer in the hut, and then decided to go and look at the first pass on the route around to Switzerland. Without our packs it was fun walking up to the gully and then tramping up the snow and climbing up the gap where the snow met the rock wall. It was fairly precarious stuff without crampons but doable. The Swiss side , when we reached it, looked unpleasant. Without crampons it would be a long, nerve-racking descent. We went back for dinner. The forecast for the next day was reasonable. We decided to get up early and have a go at the descent route for the Nordkante. The Via Normale up the South ridge of Piz Badile.
In the morning it was windy but with clear skies. We stood outside in the wind. It really was windy. We set off. Getting off the ground was the most difficult route finding, but from there there was a set of abseil rings, painted arrows and red blobs to follow and we climbed the route quickly. At the top the wind had disappeared and the cloud was gone. We had fantastic views across the Alps. Monte Disgrazia was especially impressive. We had our lunch, took photos, had a look at the orange bivouac and saw people climbing the ridge.
We were a bit disappointed. Perhaps that should have been us. We'd missed our weather window.
We couldn't feel to bad because we were on top of an amazing mountain, with incredible scenery, in brilliant weather. We set off down. It would have been easy to down climb the route, but we decided to get some practise of multi-pitch abseiling. This was surprisingly good fun and we were pretty satisfied with our improving slickness. We were back down at the hut mid-morning and had a beer.
Two British mountain guides showed up a few hours later, they'd climbed the Nordkante and we chatted to them asking about the route and getting information for "next time".
The next day the rain, as predicted, returned. We set off for a walk over a pass to the Omio hut and then back down.
Again, weather had forced us to make a decision and we just hadn't felt confident to attempt the route while it was unsettled. We made a good decision and when we go back, we know a lot more and will be well prepared. We've got unfinished business.
Jo had beaten me at chess for the first time. She didn't look as smug as I might have thought. We'd been killing time in the Refugio Tosa mountain hut all morning. It was still raining.
Two days before we had arrived in a baking hot thirty-three degrees Italy and been cooped up in public transport to get to Molveno. We immediately went for a swim in the gorgeous lake. We'd eaten a great big pizza sat in a touristy restaurant with nice views of the Brenta range and gone for a lakeside stroll. Then there'd been a day of walking uphill. It started raining just as we stopped for lunch at a Refugio half way. It had then rained solidly over night and all morning.
The hut warden told us that the forecast was for the weather to improve in the afternoon. So following a break in the weather after lunch, we set off for our first Via Ferrata of the holiday.
We were now in high mountains equipped mentally (lakeside memories) and physically (trainers on our feet) for the sun drenched Alps. Instead we got drenched. And a bit terrified.
Huge limestone towers loomed out of the mist we tottered along connected safely to the fixed cables of the via ferrata. The path way seemed to be gauged out of the side of the cliff. As we rounded a corner the cable disappeared through a patch of snow that lingered in a gully. The only way to continue was to unclip and walk across the hard snow, kicking steps as well as possible in trainers. A rope would have been lovely, crampons and an axe even better.
After more ledges and ladders, more scary snow and with the rain now returned, we reached the Alimonta hut. We met some blokes from Yorkshire who taught us a card game (called Bonk, a bit like 7 card Whist but you have to make a bid on how many tricks you'll win).
The next day the weather was improved and we did the Ferrata Sosat. With sunshine and scenery out in force this was a big improvement. We reached Rif. Tuckett and had to make a decision.
The Brenta range is incredibly beautiful, but in the conditions we were finding them in, the via errata routes were much more of a serious, mountaineering effort than we were prepared for. We decided to head down to the valley and get a bus to Riva del Garda.
Riva proved to be a good base for several via ferratas. One, which started directly opposite our B&B, took in fantastic views of the lake and the city below. Being in the town also gave us far more flexibility with the weather. So we swam in the lake, went to watch a gypsy jazz band and ate in an amazing restaurants.
On Jo's last day before getting a flight home, and starting work as a doctor, we hired a car and had a packed day. We started on an unusual canyon via ferrata near Drenna. The route was formed by stemples that were bolted into the sculpted canyon walls. The effect was a climb with lots of cool waterfalls and with some interesting strenuous overhanging bits that were really fun. The route continued following the river, across some wobbly wire bridges up to Drena Castle.
Back to the car, we realised we had loads of time to fit in another via ferrata. So we sped to Arco and set off up another one. This was all a bit too easy but the views were terrific and at the top there was an incredible limestone pavement, a big iron cross and a fantastic view of Lago Garda.
Unfortunately there was also a great view of a big storm cloud coming our way accompanied with thunder and lightning. Being stood by a big iron cross on the top of a mountain in a lightning storm didn't appeal so we descended quick.
Jo carefully explained that after a hot day, getting sweaty, climbing via ferratas, wouldn't it be a good idea to have a quick dip in the lake before we had to drive for hours? I knew she just wanted to go for one last swim. All we saw of Torbole was the car park and the beach. We swam out, swam in, towelled off and got back in the car to drive to the airport.
We both were torn over that decision in the Tuckett hut, but it worked out well for us. Within a week we packed in two very different via ferrata holidays: a serene high mountain hut-to-hut walk and a lakeside luxury culture fest.
As Jo left, Conrad arrived. And in the next week we had only one objective: Climb the Piz Badile. Find out how we got on in Part 2.
A month ago I'd never been to Buttermere. It's odd how without really planning it I ended up, on two separate occasions, driving over the Newlands Pass and parking up in this valley. The trees are in full on autumn gorgeousness and this is a very beautiful place to visit. Buttermere Trip One (31.10.13) Conrad and I parked at Gatesgarth and headed up to Grey Crag. I had great fun splashing through puddles and squelching through boggy bits. Always fun but it was especially enjoyable as Conrad squirmed about trying to avoid getting his feet wet in his fancy approach shoes. I stayed smug and dry-footed in boots. We selected Grey Crag on the basis that you could run together several easy multi-pitch routes. The forecast looked like it might stay drier in the north. It had rained heavily the night before and everything was still a tad damp. We climbed Harrow Buttress (Diff**) and then Slabs Ordinary (V Diff) and finally Oxford and Cambridge Direct (Severe***). It was nice to have the slowly escalating difficulty and the quality of the routes improved each time. As we went higher the routes dried out with O and C being exposed to plenty of wind. We each had our scary moments (appropriate for Halloween). On the second pitch of Slabs Ordinary, Conrad climbed off around the corner for rather too many metres above the belay without finding any decent protection. The scary moment for me came on the crux of the last pitch of O and C. Conrad later commented that he watched me stop on the ledge and just look at the wall for a few seconds longer than is reassuring. I wasn't trying to put gear in. I wasn't trying out hand holds. He decided that wasn't a good sign. For me the slightly terrifying part was when I decided to take a peak on the right side of the arête and see if there were any holds around there. There weren't. There was a long steep drop. And then there was a big gust of wind. Somehow I got the bottle together to climb to the top and almost as soon as Conrad followed me up, it began to pour with rain. We'd timed it perfectly. It would have been even scarier on that arête if there was a river flowing down it. Buttermere Trip Two (16.11.13) Jamie and Laura have been collecting Wainwrights. I had a glimpse into their game with a great day's walking. Like with Munro bagging, there is a list of the peaks written about in Wainwright's famous Lakeland guidebooks you can go about tramping up and down and ticking off. Jamie has a map with little red marks on the hills he's been up. There was a blank spot on a few just east of Crummock Water for us to get our teeth into. First up was Whiteside. It felt like a bit of a slog heading up that path so it was good to have a pause and hear about the flora. Laura is a botanist and Jamie is a ranger. Between them they know a fair bit about the small things growing around you on the hill and also about the big things growing down below. "See those trees that look like conifers but their leaves have gone brown? Most of those are larch." says Jamie. "All of those are larch," corrects Laura. Down at our feet we spot some moss. I incorrectly identify some sphagnum moss (the only one I've heard of) but it turns out it is Polytrichum. While I'm forgetting how to say that we see some Club Moss, a Juniper tree (almost endangered - how are we going to make gin?!) and Geographica lichen (which looks like little continents). We spotted an exciting rocky looking ridge from the slog and were pleasantly surprised to find it was an exciting rocky ridge as we walked along it to Hopegill Head and then down to a broad col where some boulders provided a sheltered picnic spot. The walk continued over Grasmoor. The clag came down and we got the compass out and timed our pace as we followed a bearing. 9 minutes and 34 seconds later we found our path. It was 26 seconds early. The visibility returned as we followed the ridge over Wandope and Whiteless Pike. Sadly there was no more need for the geeky navigation practise. Unlike the Munros which are defined to be mountains over 3000 feet. Wainwright just chose the big fells and the ones he liked. So we get Rannerdale Knotts to walk over even though it's a piddly 355m. But it is well worth it. The views down the valley to Buttermere, with Haystacks and High Crag behind, are the best of the day. And the peak itself has the character of something much bigger with plenty of craggy bits and a few photogenic sheep. Jamie tells me the sheep are Herdwick which is a Viking word meaning sheep pasture. The "wick" bit can also be "vik" and it means bay or fjord. This is used a fair bit with place names like Wick and Lerwick and in the word "Viking" itself which means "one who comes from the fjords". I wondered about the red spray paint most of the sheep seem to have on them. Laura reckons they put a load of ink on the chest of a ram. The ink comes off when the ram mates and the farmer can easily see which ewes have been shagged. I'm a convert to Buttermere, and I'd like to come back and try the ice cream.
I offer guided walks and walking holidays in Northumberland, the Pennines, the Lake District, Scotland and further afield.
I'm always keen for outdoor adventures to help people learn the skills to explore! My particular focus is mountain skills such as navigating with a map and compass and wild camping for expeditions.
I spent a lovely week in Barcelona getting know my little niece Emilia. She’s lovely, a little angel, and I had a great week getting to know her in person. She really likes bouncing and swinging in her bouncy swingy thing. She is trying solid foods now, many for the first time, and her reactions to salmon, avocado, cooked pear and white fish, seem to indicate that she has working taste buds.
Then I cycled over the Pyrenees via Puigcerda, camping at about 1700m with temperature dropping below -5 at night. Brrr. Then down towards Toulouse. In Toulouse I thought about just getting a train. There were a few little irritating things wrong with the bike (chain and brakes) and a few things wrong with me (cold and sore knee). And the weather was lousy. But after I'd polished off a croissant and a coffee, and warmed up a tad, I fancied taking a look at the canal path. I followed for the next two days.
With running repairs my bike was in reasonable shape, and my knee and runny nose improved too. I continued up through france. I struck a route taking pretty much straight line. There are loads of quiet roads and at one point I followed a great marked cycle route that I stumbled across. I wild camped all except one night. Mainly in picnic areas, laybys, in woods or in fields.
In Tours I realised I was running out of time. In fact I had somehow forgotten a whole day. So I hopped on a train and nailed it to Caen in time to catch the overnight ferry to Portsmouth. I met up with a group of mates for breakfast and we all cycled up to Hambledon to my Mum's house.
We celebrated with a beer and I took a much overdue shower!
So that's it for this bike ride! A life-long ambition fulfilled. I thought I might write a post linking back to some of the highlights (so stay tuned...) but perhaps this is a good chance to say a few thank you.
I never would have fulfilled a dream if I hadn't of had it in the first place. So firstly I must say THANKS to Mum and Dad who always encouraged me to dream big ideas, to be open-minded, determined and, with all the stories, gave me insatiable wanderlust. When Dad died, one of the reminders was that life is short and you must take your opportunities when you get them. That was maybe the spur that really got the trip under way.
Next, thanks to my sisters Penny and Caroline and Ben, my brother. They were all really supportive and helpful
Ben: Thanks for helping to put Mum at ease when I first broached the idea. And thanks for the camera and all the enthusiasm about getting good photos.
Caroline & Alejandro: Thanks for making me an Uncle and a Guardian, and thanks for all the help along the way, and when I was planning.
Penny: Thanks for opening my letters, sorting out banks, and being "HQ", thankfully I didn't have to turn to you for too much emergency help but it was fantastic peace of mind knowing you were there to help if it all went tits-up.
Many thanks to everyone who cycled with me. Especially...
Russ: Wish you'd been there the whole way, man. Thanks for joining me, being a delivery service, for great conversations, ipod filling, pizzas, and inspiration.
Also, "Rocket Scientist" Mike, "Bullshit" Brett, "Iron" Mike, Monika and Thorsten, "Bird Shit" Chris, M,J&C the "Plastic Sheet" Chileans, Ray "El Chino", "Bus Stop" Frank, and "1000 Mile Stare" Dot.
Also my friends at Sacred Suenos and everyone I met out and about...
All my climbing and hill walking and tour group companions, particularly>>>>> Ashley, Sam, Dave P, Dean, The Hyuana Potosi Gang, the Villaricca Girls, Los Llanos Gang, Maricabo german girls and and guides...
Thank you to the musicians who I recorded along the way, particularly Nick, Carlos and El Camino.
Thanks to the many many people who gave me a place to stay or food. Especially Josmir, Sergio, the Casa de Ciclista people. S&K and the warmshower and couchsurfing people. Flacco, Jordan and other equally generous Colombians.
Thanks to everyone who supported me and kept in touch via email, phone, facebook, etc. Thanks for all the comments on my website and on facebook, especially thanks to my CAAC friends.
Thank you to Chas Roberts for my fantastic bike, stanfords, edinburgh bike coop and crosso for sponsoring me with great quality maps and equipment.
And everyone else I have forgotten, sorry...if you fancy donating a few quid to the Mother's Union please do, I will leave the donation thingamy up there.
"It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the phrase, 'as pretty as an airport.' Airports are ugly. Some are very ugly. Some attain a degree of ugliness that can only be the result of a special effort." -from The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams
I feel increasingly despondent about air-travel. The worst bit is airports. They are hollow, soul-less places. As I stood looking out of a house-sized pane of glass in Caracas airport, I watched the baggage handlers loading up the plane that would take me out of South America. I was watching for my bike, but I happened to notice that about half the suitcases whizzing up the conveyor belt were wrapped in cling-film. Indeed, as I walked in the airport I had been acosted by several people offering their services to wrap up my stuff in cling film. But why? For security, to protect your precious bag, for waterproofing? I don't see how it does any of these things really. This is a fairly new thing, which seems to be popular, but I'm pretty sure it is a swiz. A waste of time, money and, in the end, a lot of cling-film.
Wastefullness is part and parcel of air-travel. The microwaved food comes in disposable containers, with plastic cups and plastic cutlery which can all be ditched. The headphones, to listen to a film on a post-card sized screen on the back of the seat in front, are disposable. The plane itself is burning through who knows how many gallons of fuel, churnning out waste gasses.
I'm in Barcalona now. My bike (she's a hardy thing) and I survived an overnight bus, overnight flight, and overnight train. I will be glad to sleep in a bed that doesn't move.
I will take flights again. I like to travel and, unless I get into sailing in a big way, I will have to put up with air travel as a necessary evil.
After I got soaking wet yet again in a walk in the mountains I decided to sign up for a tour to Los Llanos. This is a flat land area with tons of animals and birds. First stop was Barinas to collect a Russian couple from the airport (strong silent types) and go rafting down a big bouncy river. Next morning we headed to the camp in Los Llanos but before we even arrived there were animals to spot.
Junior, our guide, spotted some howler monkeys in some trees. When we piled out of the truck to take photos. Later, near the camp, we saw a load of caimen surrounding a lake.
The camp was a collection of homely shacks with numerous children, an anteater and a very humourous parrot. We looked forward to slinging ourselves up in hammocks for the night but first we climbed on the roof of the truck to go caimen hunting. The goad was to catch a caiman: just for a laugh! Junior and Ali, his friend from the camp, set off into the fields, and after a few false starts came back carrying a bundle of baby caimen. We oohed and ahhed, took photos and had a little race. Then Junior and Ali (AKA the black dolfin) set off to find some bigger ones...
The following morning we fished for parahnas (despite looking really easy...I caught nothing), hunted for anocondas (and found a little one) and went on a fantastic boat trip to spot fresh-water dolphins, capivaras and many exotic and beautiful birds. Then back for an eight-year-olds birthday with dancing (for everyone), rum (for adults), piñata (for kids) and cake (for those who lasted that long).
After a painful attempt to hang on to a cantering (or trotting?) horse, we piled back into the truck and drove back to Merida.
I was lucky enough to have a fantastic group: the Belgium stallion, two chain-smoking Germans and a couple from the UK.
After all that excitement I ended up back in Merida, it was still raining so my hope to climb Pico Bolivar was out. I was thinking of having a day at a natural hot-spring, but a recent land-slide had filled it in...So I booked on another trip.
This time I had a pair of very pretty young German girls as companions and the trip was to see the famous Catatumbo Lightning. I guess it isn't that famous really. Odd though. We stayed in a house on stilts right in the middle of the lake and watched this silent lightning going on all night. We also took in a night safari on the speed boat and spotted loads of birds of prey. The next day we visited a village built on stilts. This was a real highlight for me, a very strange and wonderful place of fishermen and more children than you would imagine. They all get about by boat. Kids paddle around on bits of polystyrene, plastic buckets or anything else that will float. There are two pubs, a church, a school, shops and about 800 people live there. There is also a power plant which fires up in the afternoon for the telenovelas (soap opreas) and then in the evening for the lights.
And that was it for Venezuela, and for South America.
