So, I got this letter, like.

 

 

From the membership secretary of the Institute of Outdoor Bloggers. Apparently my CPD wasn’t up to date. Oh dear. Apparently I had more than enough points in the “Puerile Whimsy”  and “Cheap Music” categories, but was falling behind on “Proper, Serious Gear Reviews” and “Actually Climbing Some Hills”. I immediately ‘phoned up and claimed the usual exemption on grounds of insanity, diplomatic immunity and Human Rights.However, the committee has recently been taken over by the hardliners ( you know who they are !) and apparently everyone, even those living in ROYAL Berkshire is now required to climb the occasional hill in order to keep up their membership. This was bad news.Bad news indeed. And so it was, with a heavy heart and rucksack, I set off for Alva, from whence, i was led to believe, some hills could be accessed. I will not detain you, dear reader, with the walk-in up Alva Glen, traversing to Silver Glen and up the zig-zags past the Breakfast Boulder.

 

 

We pick up the story at The Gate at the sheep-pens. From here I could have popped up The Nebit in about 20 minutes, but that would not have produced sufficient points ( and I did it a few weeks ago).

 

Nope, I needed a proper hill – one that’s at least 2000 tootsies…… so over the road and up into the snow.

 

 

 

 

The Nebit looks pretty insignificant from up here.

 

 

 

 

 

And here we are – summit of Ben Ever. It’s a Donald and a Nouvel Donald and all that technical baggery stuff.Now, I’ve been here before. Several times. In fact one of my earliest blog posts in October 2010 featured ths little beauty.So if any Donald bagger out there who needs Ben Ever to “compleat”, and has, say, two Windy Gyles, and is prepared to swop………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So,that’s that sorted. If I Photoshop some of the pictures that I submit to IOOB, I can claim the extra points for an “Ascent in full Winter conditions” . Bonus.

 

And what about the stats ? Well I’m not going to indulge in the vulgar competitive miles/height/time stuff. If God had meant man to walk uphill faster than 1.5 MPH then he wouldn’t have given him short fat hairy legs. But try this. Round about the time I did this in October 2010, my resting blood pressure would have been about 147/100 and my resting pulse rate 92. As I sit here just now, it’s more like 117/65 and 62. This, I believe, is a “Good Thing”

 

And I met some nice people who chatted about the hills and the weather and seemed to be enjoying themselves. One bloke even allowed me to try his Micropikes.

I might even be tempted to do this hill climbing thing again.

 

 

I once spent a couple of nights drinking with that pair (and Charlie Watts).And you wonder why I struggle to get up wee hills. FFS

Hills, my carse.

 

 

Hunble readers may be under the impression that we elite bloggers need no encouragement to venture into The Great Outdoors at every opportunity, taking time off only to sleep, attend hospital appointments, and study gear catalogues.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Except for a Metropolitan policeman’s notebook. Obviously.

Now, yesterday, for example,was a lovely day for a walk, but, despite much noisy double-declutching, I just could not get my arse in gear to go out.Today was less promising weather-wise, but I forced myself out with one arm up my back, a revolver held to my head, and muttering to myself “The next man moves and the n****r gets it”Some of you may be aware that I live on the boundary between some nice rolling hills and some spooky flat stuff, with some fine woodland thrown in as the luckpenny.Today was the turn of the flat stuff – the Carse of Lecropt. Now, I blogged about this some 18 months ago and the post got no comments and very few page views, so I may be flogging a dead horse here. But if it worked for Waitrose……

 

We start off along the “Chicken Run”, a right of way through the grounds of the local factory. This is one of “my paths” – never anything to report – well used to get from one side of the village to the other.

 

 

The factory is one of the worlds biggest producers of bottle tops. Weird. Just like Jedburgh is the plastic coathanger centre of the universe.

 

 

 

On the other side of the railway is the other major local employer, the slaugh….,the abbat… the non-vegetable food processing plant.

 

 

 

 

You can see how the village nestles (sort of like condensed milk) in the foothills.

 

 

 

The M9 motorway with Craigforth, one of several crag-and-tail basaltic plugs which characterise the area. Like the Castle Rock and Abbey Craig (Wallace Monument) the shape demonstrates the effect of the hard volcanic rock resisting the glacier which then deposited the soft alluvial soils on the lee side, forming the tail

. 

 

This area has, at various times, been covered by ice, the sea and a peaty swamp. Now drained and limed, the heavy alluvial clay soil is ideal for growing oats and hay.

 

 

”Development potential. Needs some work, but in catchment area of good school”

 

Atmospheric pic. Like

Horse with packed lunch

The Shadows

 

Estate cottages.

 

 

Completing the loop – under the motorway this time.

 

 

 

This is what we would call a grass seed barrow –

 

now a plant holder !There are folk who would pay for something like that for restoration.

 

Well,as i said, I was less than keen at the beginning- there was a biting wind and some nasty looking stuff coming in from the  West- but the wind dropped, the sun came out and I’m glad I went. Bit of a metaphor for life, really.

 

 

And talking of life. This little fellow didn’t make it. Case of “Hare today – gone tomorrow” So it goes.

 

 

 

Good News from Gobblers Knob

 

No shadow. Spring is on the way !

 

Devon Police..

 

..would like to interview a middle-aged man with beard and glasses, last seen wearing designer walking gear and carrying a Stihl saw.

Days

The forecast wasn’t great, but a watery sun was trying to emerge as I left the Spa Town for points East. My final path inspection was due before the end of the month, and the weather didn’t look as if it was going to improve later in the week. Now, I don’t think I would have been stripped of my clipboard and reduced to the ranks for being a few days late, but I tend to be quaintly old-fashioned about deadlines and stuff like that.It wasn’t just the weather that was a bit under par- as soon as I got up, I realised that it was not one of my “Good Days”.However, nil desperandum etc. If you are reading this you will no doubt be familiar with the medical practice known as “walking it off”.

 

A bit of a pick-me-up on the walk-in – the fence beside the stile has been repaired.

 

As I turned North and started to climb the steep track up the glen I felt the need to lighten the load a little, and threw up my breakfast into the ditch.Further upward progress seemed unlikely. However, I have developed a strategy for such events – Blood sugar/ Hydration (half a banana and 200mls of water) , stand (don’t sit down) for a few minutes and then slowly continue a few steps at a time.When this works, as it did today, I feel pretty shitty for a few minutes, but after half an hour or so I’m wondering what all the fuss was about. 

 

 

The track was a mess- running water,  mud, slush and snow all churned up by tractor tyres. The cross drains were like fords.And for added effect, a snell wind got up, accompanied by driving rain.All that was needed to complete the picture was Jeremy Clarkson and Anthony Worrall-Thomson.

 

 

Speak of the Devil.

 

 

The keeper passed me as I was coming down and a few minutes later I heard the engine repeatedly revving as the Gator got stuck For a brief moment i considered going back to try to push him out – a very brief moment !

 

 

Just as I believe I’m sinkin’ down – The Crossroads. And the nominations are… PlanA, go round the head of the glen and return down the other side. PlanB,return the way I came and PlanC, continue on a rather better track through to Sheriffmuir Road and return home on tarmac. And when I opened the envelope the winner was…………. PlanC  And so it was.

 

Terra Firma at last

 

So in the circumstances, a bit of a triumph.Not a kick in the arse off 10 miles and over 1000ft of up in unfavourable conditions in 4 hours on a Bad Day.

 

John Prine during his “Don't Panic” Scouse period

 

Gear Update : Rab Thermal Breathable Baselayer.

 

Out for a bit of a stroll “up the glen” this afternoon. The snow finally got here in a half-hearted sort of way, and is now mainly slush. No doubt the Council will soon clear this up , as they have a fund for it. Allegedly. View her of the upper (topographically and socially) bit of the village.

 

 

Unfortunately i had once again left my precious flask of Ice 9 at home. Yes, the previous post was Cat’s Cradle themed, and I had hoped to flush Danny out with it. However his continued absence leads me to believe he is now making love to a porn star on the planet Tralfamadore.

 

Never sure if this is the Ladies Pool or the Lady’s Pool.

 

Across the river and into the trees. That’s two currently unfashionable authors in one post. Not counting myself.

 

 

The Pipe Bridge. There is a14” cast water pipe running through it. Before the bridge was built there was just the pipe. As kids, we would swing out past the protective spikes and walk or crawl across, depending on how much of a feartie you were. In those days only about 3 or 4 kids survived to Primary 7 out of the 30 that started Primary 1.

 

 

In August we had a freak thunderstorm which caused quite a lot of damage with flash floods. I think you can see from the pic the damage that this quiet little burn did in a matter of a couple of hours

 

The gas bill came in today.

 

Now at this point regular readers of the blog will have instinctively recoiled from their computers to avoid the expected flume-flecked full-on grumpy old man tirade.

Not so.

Pleasantly surprised.

All that time on the comparison web sites must have paid off. I now get my leccy from the Gas Board, my gas from Amazon, my coal from Microsoft, and my broadband from Scotrail. Aint the free market wonderful ?

 

What ?

 

Baselayer ?

 

 

Oh yes.

 

 

I’m convinced that the fact that my mum bought me string vests and pants was the main reason it took me so long to lose my virginity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  I first heard this song while lying in a park in London. I was feeling mellow. Burn me as a heretic, but this is my favourite version.

Cannonballs on court house lawns

 

 

So, I logged onto Live Writer ( my NBF!), clicked on “Lovely crisp sunny day”, unchecked the boxes for “Breathlessness”, “Sore Feet” and “Leg Cramps” and set off up the hill.

 

Christ, if only I had known years ago that it had all these features…….

 

The bowling green where my dad spent many happy hours. And the club house where he spent many a Happy Hour !

 

 

  Usually a bit of a pech, but today, thanks to LW, I just flew up the path.

 

Dunblane nestles in it’s frosty hollow while Andy sweats in 30+ degrees in Melbourne.

 

 

Bit of a mystery here – remains of a snowman from November, or aircraft toilet ?

 

 

Guess where .

 

 

And now the point of this post

The answer to the mud problem. Anyone called Hoenikker read this blog ?