Tag Archives: walk

Final Thoughts on the ACT

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I find I’m at an age where I no longer get quite so angry at other people’s carelessness and thoughtlessness. The Arctic Circle Trail is a walk through a pristine landscape one that most people will never see or appreciate. There are rumblings in the jungle both on the official website and Facebook pages of the amount of rubbish and excrement left by thoughtless trekkers.

Before I go into those rumblings, I think it wise to maybe put over a point of view that I know will offend the purist, that is, those that want to keep the trail selfishly to the chosen few, the hardy multi day backpackers that maybe are just a little elitist in their thoughts. Greenland, like many other up and coming tourist destinations are advertising themselves as a unique place to travel to. It is in many ways similar to Spitsbergen, with its wildlife and culture. Both Spitsbergen and Greenland have European Overlords and from talking to the locals, Greenland would very much like to slowly release their reliance on Denmark.

This piece, however, is specifically about the Arctic Circle Trail. In recent years a track has been built called the ATV track that runs from Kangerlussauq to Sisimiut, following the same line as the ACT track for some distance and like for example the road that now connects many parts of the Annapurna Circuit, has caused uproar amongst many in the trekking community. In answer to this apparent ‘intrusion’ there is now a suggested Southern Route that bypasses where these two collide, which ultimately gives walkers a choice. Is the path set in stone? Not in my mind, a trail is what the individual want’s to make of it. We chose to do the northern route and found that the ATV was in no way an eye saw most of the time, even where running parallel it was hardly noticeable. Another couple we ran into along the trail did the southern route and they too, loved the experience as did we. Who’s right… it’s a choice!

Who am I to object when the local people want to improve their infrastructure, and in doing so improving their way of life. Who are we, just visitors to the country, to tell them otherwise.

Most of the discussion, though, on the Facebook pages are about rubbish and the state of some of the huts along the trail. I 100% agree some are disgusting, sometimes with rubbish thrown away without a care and worse toilet paper and excrement that is so obvious around some of the huts. The Official Arctic Circle website has been extremely successful in advertising this unique trail, which creates a double edged sword. If you attract more people the trail looses its lofty statues as an elite walk, for only those that are prepared to stick to the code of ‘leave no trace’. It is, unfortunately, human nature, I’m not condoning it, it’s what happens.

With the success that the website has had in attracting more visitors then maybe the responsibility needs to shift slightly from the individual to the Greenland tourist board. I can hear my ears burning now, disgusted at the thought. People should take responsibility for their own actions and I absolutely agree, but time and time again it’s proved that they either aren’t willing to or just don’t understand the concept of ‘leave no trace’. If you provide bins people will use them, if you provide compost toilets again people will use them and probably abuse them. I’m going to mention an extreme example of where a trail has become so popular that limits are placed on the number of people that are allowed in any one season to walk it. Both the ‘O’ Trek and ‘W’ Trek in Torres del Paine have limits and those limits are set by the number of camping places and Refugio beds that are available at any one time. Those of you that have walked either of these treks will know how far in advance you need to book. A fee is paid to the National Park Service, which is basically a permit and you have to stay at the designated Refugio and camping areas. As I said an extreme example, but one that works as does the permit system in the USA and many other country’s that have long distance trails in them.

Yes, I’m suggesting a permit system and coming from the UK, that whole concept of a permit is alien to me. However, the money raised could be used to help clear up the debris, provide bins that are regularly emptied and compost toilet facilities that are useable. As I said at the beginning I know that this solution will not be popular with those walkers that truly want to wild camp and are diligent in the way they go about it. But ultimately Greenland wants to attract more visitors and quite rightly so, but in doing so has to take on some of the responsibility in keeping the trail in a pristine condition and those that walk the trail need to pay for that privilege.

After saying all of that, the walk from Point 660 to Sisimiut is up there as one of my favourites. I don’t think it’ll be long before the Arctic Circle Trail starts officially at Point 660 keeping to the ridges that run parallel with the dirt track, bypassing Kangerlussuaq and running all the way to the coast. What ever route the individual decides to take it is their decision and theirs alone and no one should be judged for what ever route they decide to take.

We didn’t meet many people along the trail as we did it in late September and we were also blessed with wonderful weather. Uncle Les, one of my mentors, would have loved this trail as that, in the whole of the 11 days of walking we encountered only five other people actually on the trail and a number of hunters at the end of their season. It was a pleasure to talk to them and get first hand knowledge of the area and its wildlife. I know at the height of the season it can be a problem finding any room in the small huts… isn’t that why we all carry tents? However, we were lucky enough to share a hut only twice.

The Finalé

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A Change in the Weather!

Day 9: Modern technology meant that we were prepared for the day of constant rain that lay ahead. The Garmin InReach gave us a fairly accurate forecast every day and today’s was to be the complete opposite of the last eight days! Rain from beginning to end. Forecasts have been known to be very wrong and we hoped this was, but no, it was as accurate as the other days had been. Rain it did, all day.

A Black & White Day

The guide book said that, although this was the last day the scenery was worth taking your time over as most people rush through this last day eager to finish after nine days on the trail… well there was very little scenery to be seen as the cloud blanketed all the mountains above 500m. So like most people I put my head down and covered the 20km in just over five hours, without any breaks! I’m not going to complain, as we’ve had exceptional weather, for this time of year. Hopefully we’ll get to see some of the scenery looking back from Sisimuit during our stay.

A Service Area Along the AVT Track – A Toilet with a View
Service Area

The hotel is excellent, good beer and food… it is nice to eat fresh food again. The rehydrated food we have been eating was very good, in fact, far better than it ever used to be, but Reindeer Stew from a vacuum packed bag bares no comparison to the rare Reindeer steak that I ate in the hotel restaurant!

First View of Civilisation!
The Hotel!

A successful walk, where next???

Down the Valley All the Way!

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Warmth Melting the Cold Ice!

Day 7: Started as all the others. The blue hour’s cold hues tried to penetrate my sleeping bag, it tryed hard to find an opening as I snuggled deeper into its warm interior, knowing that I would have to unzip it sooner or later and drag on as many warm clothes as quickly as possible. The blue hour is only temporary, normally only about 15 minutes and is always followed by the golden hour, when the sky lights up in orange, red and purple hues and suddenly the day has begun. It’s the same with your clothes, firstly they feel cold, often damp and uncomfortable, but like the sunrise the warm slowly filters through. For every day to start with a visible sunrise, is worth putting up with that 15 minutes of cold and I have to say, so far we’ve been blessed!

Stephen and I leave the hunter in his temporary home and make our way up to a distant cairn on the top of a pass. From there the day was a gentle downhill wander to our hut for the night. It was an easy day. A day we could look up from our feet and admire the high snow capped hills on our left and the rugged cliffs of the lower mountains on our right. A day to daydream, which is something I’m very good at.

The Snow Topped Mountains become more Rugged

The penultimate hut was probably worse than the first. The first was a rambling, tumbled down disjointed hut that needed some TLC, however Nerumaq hut was probably the worst kept of all the huts we stayed in. It was surrounded by litter and toilet paper, with rubbish bags that had been scavenged by the local wildlife. Why this hut was worse than any other, neither of us could fathom, but it definitely required some attention.

The Gentle Walk to the Penultimate Hut

Tomorrow is our penultimate day and our rucksacks are getting ever lighter!

Day 8: Started like all the other mornings, a perfect start. We were staying in a hut that was surrounded by high mountains in a deep cut valley. The sun is past its Autumn Equinox and the days have got noticeably shorter whilst we’ve been here and the sun is lower in the sky. I’m not trying to give anyone a geography lesson, I’m just giving the reasons that in this deep East/West cut valley the sun struggled to rise above the Southern mountains and it wasn’t until midday and a lowering of the mountain barrier did the sun finally give me her warmth. Stephen was probably about an hour behind me so the power of the sun came even later to him.

Only a couple of things worth mentioning and they were two river crossings. Let’s just say I had to take my boots off twice to wring out my socks and realised that this old man’s balance isn’t as good as it should be! The rest of the walk was similar to yesterday with the path wandering slowly down the valley, through the familiar birch and willow scrub and the never ending peaty bogs.

The Last Nights Hut

The hut for the night, like many of the others is situated in a prime location giving uninterrupted 360 degree views.

Tomorrow is our last day and with that always comes mixed emotions… looking forward to a beer or two and a meal that I don’t have to rehydrate and of course a comfy bed. On the other side of the coin, walking in such a pristine environment and seeing the mountains and the flora and fauna will be very hard to give up.

I’ve mentioned many times the one man that taught me how to appreciate the mountains. And that even now I know he walks with me and constantly reminds me to always look back, as the view behind can often be more spectacular than the one in front. He’s always there in the back of my mind and he always will be, but more especially on these trips as he loved the mountains so much. One other person who always gets my special thanks and love, who tolerates my continual need to walk all over the world. Although the mountains bring me peace she brings me complete happiness… Carolynn.

The View from the Hut

The Infamous River Crossing!

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Spectacular Morning

I slept on a bench that had a window that was at eye level when I laid down. And as with every night so far the moon rose flooding the night sky with cold white light at around 21:00 and made its way in a high ark taking the same path as the sun. Chasing each other like Tom & Jerry, night after night! At around 01:00 I woke up and my eyes were drawn towards the window and there dancing green and pale purple were the Northern Lights. We both jumped out of bed and went to stare, mesmerised by the ever changing light show. Obviously I took photographs and as with all cameras the colours and intensity are far more intense than the you can see with your naked eye. Eventually the cold got to us both as we were only dressed in our long-Johns and down jackets…

The Northern Lights

Day 5: The morning started like all the others, nearly cloudless with the sun rising over the mountains. We packed and left separately as we often do and the terrain was similar to yesterday afternoon’s. The river crossing that we’ve both read so much about loomed at the far side of a wide reed and birch scrub covered valley. I got there about an hour before Stephen. The crossing didn’t look too bad, just over knee height, it has been known to be chest height at times of flood, but it was still running at a fairly brisk pace. The shallow rapids ended with a broad deep pool, before the river continued down towards the fjord.

The Broad Valley of the River Crossing

After much consideration neither of us got our feet wet crossing this stretch of water as we decided that the offer of a lift to the far bank in a boat by a family of local hunters was by far the more sensible way to cross!!!

Tying up the Reindeer’s Pelt – One of the Hunters Children

The hunters were a local family, three children, the youngest, a boy, who appeared to be the most industrious, was about seven years old. A young girl, who spoke perfect English and on the odd occasion corrected her Fathers grammar, who was about 12 and an older boy who was about 15. As well as their Father, their Uncle and Grandmother were there. Apparently the 75 year old Grandmother never misses a hunting trip! They were hunting Reindeer and had a license to shoot 20, but after eight days had only managed to bag 14. So they were moving downstream to try their luck. It was fascinating spending an hour talking to the Father and children. The Father was a helicopter engineer in Nuuk and spent his holidays hunting as his ancestors did and he was hoping to pass on the tradition to his children, although he did admit his daughter preferred to spend her time indoors, apparently she was not so keen on the outdoor life!!! I’d certainly like to give a big thank you to them for the lift across the river.

The afternoon consisted of a boggy walk on burch and willow scrub and cotton grass as a gentle rise took us away from the valley and fjord to tonight’s hut. Slightly larger than last nights, nestled in a valley over looking the Maligiaq Fjord, again a bedroom with a view. It’s not a view ‘to die for’, no vista is worth that, but definitely a view to savour whilst taking in the last heat of the afternoon Arctic sun.

You can just make out the Hut

An early finish has meant there’s been time to dry out wet socks and hopefully boots as well and, of course, 40 winks for two old men!

Lakes & Mountains

Day 6: Stephen and I walked separately all day. He’s like Jeremy he can talk to strangers and they seem to like to talk to him. I spent too many years walking with Uncle Les. He would divert off a path to avoid anyone that was walking towards him, although as I’ve said in my blog about the Wales Coast Path, I am getting better, Jeremy is working hard to improve my sociability. During the walk Stephen and I keep in touch using our Garmin InReach so we’re reasonably aware of each other’s positions. I know that today Stephen spent quite sometime talking to a local hunter, that he met on the trail, so his eta was going to be a couple of hours after my arrival.

Our Hut for the Night

Today’s walk was gentle in many respects after an initial 350m ascent the route stayed high for a few kilometres then descended into a valley which we followed until the hut was reached. The valley path was wet and boggy, fortunately still partially frozen making what would be an extremely wet route, just a wet route. As with every other day my boots and socks are wet through! So it was good to reach the hut. There’s a hunter staying here for the week and is very house proud… the place is spotless, the only downside is that he never stops talking, but to make it worse he doesn’t stop talking when an answer is required… he just talks over you! But after saying that, I’m learning how to butcher a Reindeer and cook it ready for storing. So it’s quite interesting if not a little gory!

The scenery is changing slightly as the surrounding mountains are getting higher and have snow covering most of the summits and the small ice sheet of Aqquititsoq is glimpsed tantalisingly in the distance.

Ice Crystals

Stephen had the same issue I did with the digital route map… it basically took you the wrong way! It happened at exactly the same place. I was a little concerned where the gpx route was taking me and checked the guide book and realised the digital routing was either corrupted or wrong and I altered my course accordingly… Stephen, however, didn’t realise and crossed a fairly major river and went up onto a hill, the opposite side of the riverbank to where he actually wanted to be. Now as compensation he did get some great photographs! The down side was that he had to wade back through the river and make his way to the correct path. These few short sentences of mine have not really told the gravity and the possible consequences of such a miscalculation in this environment. I walked into camp at 15:30 and Stephen walked in at 19:15. He should have walked in at about 17:00… two hours is a long time to be off route, especially when you are tired and hungry. I was getting very concerned about how long it was taking him even though we were in contact through our Garmin InReach.

Sunset

Stephen and I generally walk at different paces and we therefore rarely walk together unless safety dictates otherwise. We are both experienced at solo walking, but sometimes relying on a purely digital method of navigation can cause serious problems and we are both very capable of reading and interpreting the paper maps we each have with us as a backup. I know there will be people out there who say that you should always stick together, but we both love our ‘me’ time, and we are both fully aware of the possible consequences.

Again the Northern Lights Came Out to Play

The Trek that Includes a Canoe!

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A Perfectly Still Day for the Canoe Section

My last words on the previous blog were very premature. At 11pm two people entered the hut, head torches blazing and a herd of Elephants would probably have been quieter! They were two local Greenlanders walking the trail for the 8th time. If I said that this hut was about 3.5 metres sq. and slept six people in theory and is made up of only the one room, you’ll understand our dismay when they started cooking their dinner, then proceeded to chat until after midnight. I’m not innocent myself when it comes to snoring, but let’s just say that one of them had rhythmical snoring that made the last part of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture seem very quite by comparison and to top it all the snorer got up every hour for a pee!!! Anyway some fitful sleep was had!

The Second Hut

Day 3: This morning we were far more considerate than our room mates were the previous evening, we, quietly as possible took all our belongings outside to pack as well as making our breakfast drinks there as well… butane/propane camping stoves sound a little like an express trains when lit. What good fellows we were. We expect to meet them again at the next hut, as Stephen would say… Jaysus!

So before sunrise we were in the canoe starting our, well I am going to say, our voyage into the unknown, as you could write what we both knew about canoeing on the back of a postage stamp, although postage stamps appear to have got a great deal larger these days. The sun rose over the mountains giving the near perfect reflection of the cliffs and vegetation at the side of the lake, a wonderful brown/red hue as our paddling caused the only ripples that slowly spread and vanished into the near perfect reflections.

Near Perfect Reflection

Stephen is younger and definitely stronger than me so keeping a straight course was not easy, but the 20km was covered in 4 hours 45 minutes including a 30 minute break on a sandy beach for lunch. It made for a short day, so in the afternoon we dried boots, socks and aired sleeping bags in the glorious Arctic sunshine… an afternoon spent blissfully unaware of this mad, mad, mad, mad world.

Beached!!!

It’s now early evening and what little wind there was has now gone. The lake is again at perfect peace with the surrounding mountains, unable to tell where the reflection stops and the mountains begin. The late evening Arctic sun still has a little warmth in it, but that will disappear fast as the sun gets lower in the sky… absolute silence, absolute tranquility.

The Canoes
Sunset Over the Canoe Centre

Our friends from the last hut did turn up at about 20:45, one of them totally exhausted. They are sleeping in a separate room… May everyone’s god be praised. The good news is that they are spending two days at the Canoe Centre hut!

The Canoe Centre

Day 4: Today started as yesterday, a near cloudless sky, with the waning moon still dominant in the sky as the sun was still waiting to creep over the horizon. The first half of the day was a gentle walk down a wide valley to lake Kangerluatsiarsuaq. As we stopped for launch it was difficult to judge where reflection and reality merged.

Reflections

I’m sat just North of the Arctic Circle next to a crystal clear tarn, it’s only the slight breeze that indicates that there is water there at all. The surprisingly warm breeze is blowing the white cotton grass seeds through the air, sticking to the rusty red of the beach and willow scrub, which is in the last throws of its Autumn transformation. In the distance are snow capped mountains separated by deep turquoise lakes, the mirror like reflections exaggerating the size of these white topped peaks. I wish I could describe the scene better, they say a picture paints a thousand words, but no picture could do this justice.

A Typical View

After lunch the trail took us into the mountains, crossing boiler plates with erratics dotted all over. The hut, most people might call it a shed, was perched at the head of a small valley. The late evening sun was still warm enough to be able to sit outside in a polo shirt… I was expecting temperatures of -5 to -8 at night and in the low single figures during the day, but today has felt like a beautiful Spring day in the UK at about 10 to 12 degrees.

It was a late finish . It’s the longest day on the Arctic Circle Trail itself. The book says 22km, but my GPS made it 25.5km. Which ever is correct it was still a hard long days walk. The scenery, though, never disappointed.

From the Hut
The Northern Lights

Tomorrow hopefully only 11km… but through a ford that could be waist deep!

The Reason We Went To Greenland

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The Road Walk out of Kangerlussuaq

Day 1: Started with a hearty breakfast, fresh orange, scrambled eggs, bacon, hash brown and sausage… I think I forgot to mention we were still at the hotel! The day had finally arrived the actual start of the Arctic Circle Trail. It’s not an overly interesting start as the first 12km is along a road to the harbour that feeds Kangerlussuaaq. Then another 4km ascent up a dirt road, but unlike the harbour road this section took us into the mountains. The scenery changed with every step of the ascent, there were mountains and lakes, rather than a never ending road cutting, starting to dominate the views. At the apex of the hill, a look back, was rewarded with a final glimpse of the Ice Sheet, 60km away and the vista in front unfolded the land that would be our home for the next nine days.

Stephen took the obvious route, me, well, I took the wetter route! We eventually both ended up at the Hundesó hut… how do I describe this hut, well, even Steptoe and Son might have been too ashamed to call it home!

Our Home for the Night

Its positioning was, though, exceptional. The hut stands on a peninsula with an uninterrupted view of the lake and mountains beyond, it’d be a perfect spot to build a log cabin for those long Winter nights. As it is, it’s the perfect spot to get away tomorrow morning as early as sunrise will allow!

Early Morning View

Day 2: Started perfectly, a three quarter moon high in the Western sky as the Sun slowly rose in the East, not a cloud to be seen or a ripple of wind on the lake. We started out at about 8:45, you have to remember that the sun doesn’t rise until 8ish, so it’s never going to be an early start.

The difference between yesterday and today couldn’t be more stark. No more dirt road walking. In fact the path is very reminiscent of the Dark Peak paths over Bleaklow and just as hard to follow. Fortunately the weather must have been fairly dry over the last few weeks as the marshes that the path had a fondness to go through, were fairly dry and helped to be firm under foot by the nights frost. The trail, at this stage anyway, is not too hard, although it did take us two hours longer to do 20km today than yesterday… but it was far more enjoyable.

Morning Has Broken

One incident worth noting that the guide book neglected to mention. We wandered over the brow of a hill and looked across to the brow of another small hill, in between was a small valley. The path going down was obvious as was the path going up the other side. In between the two small hills where the path should have been was instead,the merging of two lakes! I don’t mean that there was a little stream between the two, I mean they had merged. What I think was just boggy ground there was now one metre deep water… so off came the trousers, boots and socks, and we waded in to near waist height. I have to say it was cold and there were some very strange sensations in between my toes. No mishaps to report!

The Small Stream between the Two Lakes!
Getting Ready for the Crossing!

There can’t be anything more satisfying than turning a corner and seeing below you a hut peacefully nestled by the side of a lake. It is positioned such that it has stunning 360 degree views, but most importantly I would recommend this one to the royal family and definitely not Steptoe & Son!

The hut is called Katiffik Hut, the first official hut on the Arctic Circle Trail. Again we are the only occupants.

Ice Sheet

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A day of contrasts. Eagerly waiting, endless cups of cof’fee, watches ticking by in slow motion and conversation stalled as both of us stared blankly out of the window as our thoughts wandered along the Arctic Circle Trail.

We made slow progress in the big arctic bus that took us to the Ice Sheet. The dirt road was built in 1999 by VW so they could test their cars in extreme conditions on the Ice Sheet, only to be abandoned four years later as the ice sheet retreated and the maintenance of the road became too expensive.

We arrived at Point 660 at four O’Clock. An hour and a half later than we expected. Although we only had around 12km to walk, so daylight wasn’t going to be an issue. We crossed the moraine unceremoniously dumped by the retreating ice sheet and onto the ice itself. The start.

Stephen on the Ice Sheet – The Start

The Ice Sheet and the grey sky merged into one infinite sea of white. A place, for me, to stand and stare and admire the vastness of this white wilderness. However, we needed to get on so we made our way back to the bus and the dirt road, said our goodbyes to the other passengers, put on our sacks and started the 37km walk back to Kangerlussuaq. A straight forward walk, no navigational skills required, just retrace our steps along the dirt road.

Reindeer Stag

We only got 8km down the road when we reached a high spot that looked out over the side of the Russell Glacier. A breathtaking view of one of nature’s most powerful creations. The retreating glacier left behind stunning waterfalls, ground out of the hard Greenland rock and gigantic unstable lateral moraines, with thunderous rock falls, followed by absolute silence. And to top it all, there was a picnic table there with our names on, so we could cook dinner in comfort!

The only noise throughout the night was the calming noise of the waterfalls… a perfectly peaceful night. As we had only did 8km the following day was going to be long. Seven hours of dirt road, dusty and hard on your feet, all 29km of it! Our own fault for being led astray by the view the previous evening. It was a day of being able to walk side by side, just two boys in high spirits on a little jaunt!

Our Campsite – Looking out over the Russell Glacier

The scenery passed by slowly as we made our way back to a beer or two! The long low ridges, that ran either side of the wide sandy valley were punctuated by hills just as a child would draw a Crocodiles back, sharp regular protrusion. The Autumn colours were in full swing, vivid shades of reds, browns and yellows. There were no trees because of the permafrost, the ground instead was covered in broadleaf willow and beach scrub, that spread low just above ground level, Arctic Crowberry’s and Arctic Blueberries… it would be nice if they are still in fruit as we travel the trail.

The last hour of the walk was hard on our feet and our willpower, but as Kangerlussuaq comes into sight that long awaited beer pulls us in.

Today we start the trail, with a rucksack heavier than I have ever carried, but getting lighter as the days progress…

Outside it’s a crisp and sunny day.

They Say it’s All About the Journey!

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The act of travelling from one place to another, especiallyin a vehicle. That is the first definition of the word journey in the Cambridge Dictionary, it’s how I would define a journey, the sitting, the waiting and the endless queuing. Its main purpose, to get you between point A and point B. The Cambridge Dictionary also describes a second definition – ‘A set of experiences that someone has over a period of time, especially when they change the person in some way’. It’s a popular definition and the phrase ‘especially when they change the person’ is a phrase I struggle to to find any real purposeful meaning, every experience, no matter how big or small, can have a profound effect on a person, but all too often the dictionary definition is banded around and its meaning lost in what appears to be people’s inflated egos. So for me it’s not very the journey, it’s about the destination. The journey is a means to an end, sometimes enjoyable and sometimes a pain in the proverbial!

So the journey begins, that is Heathrow to Copenhagen and then on to Kangerlussuaq, Greenland. A journey to the start of the Arctic Circle Trail. I’d like to travel back in time and explain why I chose this rather remote trail. Stephen and I were going to go to Patagonia and walk the ‘O’ Trek in Torres del Paine, but after looking it up Stephen suggested that the estimated 300,000 people who visit the trail every season was 299,998 people too many! A challenge was set to find an accessible trail that was rarely visited.

How I came across the Arctic Circle Trail, I can’t remember. The trail jumped out at me for one main reason though, only 300 people a year walked the trail… only 1% of the people that visit Torres del Paine. I’d found a trail that suited the introverted Irishman down to the ground! A trail easy to book and easy to self guide, well that’s the theory, anyway!

The first stage of the journey is to Copenhagen, which unfortunately I’m going to see very little of. A good excuse to bring Carolynn back for a weekend break, I think, but for now it’s a necessary stopping off point for Greenland. I could have gone via Iceland but the cost was at least double, I can only assume that Denmark subsidises the flights. Stephen and I are rendezvousing at an airport hotel before we fly to Greenland tomorrow morning.

I can’t really give an opinion on Copenhagen. I am a little put out that the hotel bar and restaurant are closed on a Sunday. It’s not as if the hotel is a small private affair, it’s a large chain, Best Western. So I’ve had to walk to the only local restaurant open, I have to say it’s been worth every step of the 2km walk from the hotel. The food is excellent as is the atmosphere, could be because it’s the only place open for some considerable distance!

Tomorrow Greenland and the start of a ‘journey that will profoundly change me as a person’ !!!

Arctic Circle Trail – Greenland

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The Arctic Circle Trail

It’s been six months since I last posted a blog. Laziness really, I have done a couple of trips walking the Wales Coast Path with Jeremy, but I haven’t got around to writing them up…

The title gives the trail and destination away, really. Stephen and I will be Polar Bear dodging in the West of Greenland, roughly following the 66 degree longitude line, where daylight and darkness fight for dominance. We’re there during the stalemate, where neither daylight nor darkness has the upper hand. Even so, the daylight hours will diminish by more than three hours in the two weeks that we’re walking.

Don’t ask me to pronounce our start and end points, as it would be an insult to the local Inuit population. Although we will be adding 35km to the already 160km long trail by taking the trip to Point 660 at the edge of the largest ice sheet outside of the Antarctic. An ice sheet that is up to 3km thick and one that holds 8% of the worlds fresh water, and walk back to Kangerlussuaq the official start of the Arctic Circle Trail. I think most of you that read any of my blogs will know that I have a fascination with the colder climates of this world and although I’ve been to Greenland before I’ve never walked on the ice sheet itself. So, Stephen and I will wander back to Kangerlussusq, camping under the 60m wall of ice that is the Russell Glacier before starting the trail proper.

From the trails start, at Kangerlussuaq to it’s end at Sisimiut there are no resupply opportunities so your existence relies on being able to carry 10 days worth of sustenance and all the other essentials required to survive in the wilderness! What one man calls essential another calls useless, such as my luxury blowup down filled pillow and my Salted Caramel Costa Latte! Whatever our vices are they have to be carried… I’m sure some of these vices will soon be dropped by the wayside!

Our journey begins on Sunday, traveling to Copenhagen before flying out to Greenland on Monday.

I will put the Polar Bear question to bed, sightings are very rare in this part of Greenland and not one person has been attacked whilst on the trail…

Black: fight back

Brown: lie down

White: goodnight

So it’s au revoir and not goodnight.

This blog won’t be updated as often as I’d like as for most of the trail there is no phone signal… absolute bliss.

24 Peak Challenge…

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Irton Hall

Uncharted territory! I’m a solitary beast by nature and in the other rooms of the Pele Tower there is the sound of music, pool balls bouncing off the cushions of a little mused pool table, drinking and laughter coming from the comunal litchen are. 14 people some strangers some friends from a spinning class at Braunstone Leisure Centre. I don’t mix easily, my own fault, so this five days will, certainly, initially, won’t be easy. Fear is a strange thing, they’ll be some of you that laugh at my inadequacies whilst I wonder at those that think mountaineering is for the insane! Dune and the litany of fear springs to mind.

Sharp Edge and Scales Tarn on Blencathra

I drove myself and a passanger to the Lakes. Martin, the passanger, closed his eyes and mumbled prayers for the three and a bit hours as we made our way to Blencathra, also known as Saddleback. A mountain that lies at the entrance to the Lakes and one my Father loved and many a first day was spent climbing to the summit via Sharp Edge. And today was to be no exception. A short sharp climb of 650m. We left Leicestershire under a blanket of drizzly grey cloud and a cool Easterly wind, which followed us until just north of Manchester. The cool Easterly wind warmed as it raced East across the Pennine summits towards the West Coast and the sun appeared as the cloud retreated. The temperature soared as we reached the North Eastern Lakeland fells. The climb up Blencathra was a hundred shades of greens with a dark blue unchanging background and the view of the high central peaks of the Lakes loomed larger and larger on the horizon with each step.

Martin on Sharp Edge

Martin and I joined the rest of the group in a wateringhole not too far from the Airbnb. After a quick pint we moved on to the accommodation, which is a section of Irton Hall called the Pele Tower. A rambling old section of the house converted into a five bedroom b&b sleeping 16 people. Anyone who’s good at maths will, I’m sure, calculate that there is therefore more than the usual two people to a room… interesting for a group who have never slept together before! Three rooms of four, one twin and one double! And only three bathrooms and two of those en-suites. Morning rituals could turn out to be very interesting! After saying all of that, what a fabulous place, spread over four floors, there was room for the sociable and unsociable, which was of course, me!

The Langdale Valley – The Start of the Challenge

Day one of the 24 Peak Challenge, ten peaks 27km but more importantly 2,143 metres (7,027 feet) of ascent. This is the most I’ve ever done in one day. As usual I won’t give you a blow by blow account, all I’ll say is that it was bloody hard. 14 started 6 finished! It appears that the over 50 club is still going strong, as all but one of the finishers were a member of that cliub. It was a hard brutal walk one that tested all of us. A walk I wouldn’t normally have attempted, too long, too much ascent and one that came very close to taking me past my enjoyment level and as I’ve always said why do it if you don’t enjoy it. Carolynn, when I spoke to her, reminded me it was a ‘challenge’, should a challenge mean that enjoyment is sacrificed? Day two is similar in length with slightly less ascent, so hopefully only a ten hour day and not 12. Don’t get me wrong I did enjoy it, but it was close to going either way.

The Sun Setting on Pike of Stikle at the end of a very long day

We arrived back to whoop, whooping and applause, but most importantly food. Thank you to all those that prepared and cooked an amazing meal. The morning was ominous by the sound of the squaking peacock and nothing else, no clattering in the kitchen, no queue for the bathroom, just silence with the empty glasses, bear cans and bottles of wine a testimony to the late night of the previous evening. I slipped out with only seeing a couple of the group and headed back towards the New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel and the start of a walk up to Pavey Arc via Jacks Rake one of my Father’s favourite short walks. A short sharp scramble that traversses diagnoly across the vertical face of Pavey Arc and on to its summit.

Me Scrambling Up Jack’s Rake

It was decided that day two of the challenge should be started somewhat earlier! This meant a 5am wake up call and I have to say that by 6am the ten of us starting the walk were ready for the hour and a half’s drive to Glenridding. It’s never easy getting any group of people ready in good time never mind a large group. The numbers had dwindled Craig and Sam who bowed out fairly early on, on the first day were happy to stay at the accomodation and Danny had little or no sleep decided to attempt a monacomb of sleep whilst we were out walking. Ten started the walk.

And then there were Ten

A stunning morning, ideal as we headed up Birks and St Sunday Crag the first of our 16 peaks. Along the group lost four its memebers, one to a turned ankle and his help that went down with him. Tom wanted to reach the summit of Helvellyn and walk down Striding Edge (our route took us away from Striding Edge) for very much personal reasons and Hannah went along with him. As with the first day six of us finished, with four of us having done the whole 24 Peak Challenge.

It’s a long time sonce I’d been to the Lakes and done any serious walking, so to be given the oportunity by Neil, I’m very thankful for. It’s not a the kind of walk I would have normally chosen, the days were long and strenuous. It did, however, mean summiting many of the summits I did with my Father with the twice yearly trips to the Lakes that I did as a child with him and my sister, Helen. I’ll say at this point that my Mother very rarely came, she had more sense!

The from Glenridding Dodd, our final peak.

Wonderful four days and a great bunch… thank you for inviting me.

Popping of a Cherry!

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Aberaeron – Sunset

Jeremy’s Cherry, not something I’d usually discuss on a public forum. But six months ago Jeremy, an old school friend, indicated that he’d like to be included if I did more of the Wales Coast Path. As many people have learned to their cost, if you suggest something to me that I want to do, then consider it booked!

So it all began on a cold damp Wednesday morning in January, probably not the best time of year to wild camp for the first time in your life, especially at 61. We started at Cardigan Bay a small town in South West Wales on a morning of mizzle (misty, drizzle), full of confidence of a 25km first day. A reasonable distance especially when you consider that Jeremy was carrying a 12 – 15kg pack, heavy for a novice.

Great Company

The views were limited and the colours muted, a Wales I recognise from my many trips to Snowdonia, a Wales pictured in black & white. Artistic in its light and multiple shades of grey. To me beautiful as the different shades change continually as you walk from crest to crest. Jeremy also, appeared to take in the scenery with as much enthusiasm as me, which made a cynical, unsociable old git, like myself, enthuse even more.

Steep Descents and Mist Rolling Inland

Coastal paths, they’re flat, aren’t they? Sea level is sea level, it’s at the same height wherever you are? If I said that the SouthWest Coast path is equivalent to climbing Everest three times, you’ll get my drift that the path is by no means flat. So the first day was a baptism of fire with 898 metres of ascent. The accents and subsequent descents were not long but were numerous and steep! At no time did Jeremy complain, I knew he’d had enough near the end of our day as the light was fading from both his eyes and the sky and a wild camp site was not obvious. Me, I’m not a purest and as we walked into the village of Llangrannog the wild camp was the B&B at Pentre Inn! Perfect.

Wild Camping!

Day two was different again, clear blue sky’s with that wonderful crisp winter light. Our heavy packs were left behind at the Inn, to be picked up later, and just a light day pack carried. Jeremy’s feet were bloodied and painful with blisters, but he rose above the pain and had eyes that saw only the beauty that is the British Coast line. Today we met ‘people’, I don’t do ‘people’, but Jeremy found out the life story of every one we passed. We met the parents of the lad that worked behind the bar at the Pentre Inn, where we stayed the previous night. A woman who had come over from Australia and got stuck here during the Covid lockdown and married a local! I was enthralled to witness, an expert socialite at work and even I chipped in the conversation every now and again.

One of the Many Ascents!

Today was shorter in distance but the ascents were greater and more frequent, so the day took longer and made longer still by the many sociable stops. We eventually wandered into Aberaeron the end of our walk, as the sun was setting and Jeremy’s ‘Walking Cherry’ was popped!

Jeremy’s Load!

I hope to continue the path we’ve started together, it’s a long meandering walk past some of the most scenic coast line and mountains that Wales and Britain has to offer.

The Garden of Dreams

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Kathmandu is a bustling Capital City. The roads are a constant conveyor belt of, unusually, modern motor bikes and old battered dusty cars, vans and small trucks. Horns blast continually and traffic police man the main junctions, creating organised chaos from absolute chaos. There’s a layer of smog that sits over the city obscuring the white tipped Himalaya that shimmer in the distance. The city dwellers, which appear to be mainly twenty somethings, go about their daily business, anonymously behind black face masks. I don’t think the masks have anything to do with Covid, just poor air quality created by the constant traffic. Many of the streets are littered with rubbish, the paths are uneven and broken, there are building that have been left unfinished for what looks like years and electricity cables by the tens hanging aimlessly from over burdened electricity poles. Yet it’s a city I’ve come to love, it has more World Heritage Sites than anywhere in the world, it’s people are friendly and generous and amongst all of this lies The Garden of Dreams!

The garden sits on the edge of the main tourist area of Thamel. It’s a place that’s at odds with its immediate surroundings. You enter the gardens and the cities mayhem dies and only peace is left. There are blooms of every colour and greens of every shade and plants and trees of every type. It’s a place to relax and unwind, almost surreal, a place of someone’s imagination a place where Dillion and Florence would have felt right at home! I come here at the end of nearly every trip, it relaxes me ready for that journey back to reality.

Today the garden is full of beautiful people, late teenagers and twenty somethings. Phones in hand, facing inwards towards themselves, ignoring the vibrant real life colours of Mother Nature right in front of their eyes and instead looking at the over saturated colours and false filters that the selfie phone and the Silicon Valley programmers have concocted! They too, I’m sure have found their own peace in these gardens , as I have!

Oh to be old and cynical!!!

Some Boring Facts

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I’m sat in Himalayan Java in Kathmandu after another 11 hour Jeep ride from the foothills of the Himalaya. Himalayan Java is probably one of the most popular café’s in the tourist area of Kathmandu… most importantly for me it has the best coffee and cakes available. I’m killing time, not overly productive, but nice to sit and relax in such comfortable surroundings. The last two days up in Phaphlu were one of two extremes. The first day was an easy and enjoyable walk up to the Monastery Thuben Choling, a large complex clinging to the hillside, where I spent the night. The following day was a little unexpected. I assumed we would look around the Monastery then return the way we had come… but how wrong could I be! We walked up to the ridge 1,000m above us for one last look at the high Himalaya and then descended 1,800m back to Phaphlu. This was the longest walk I did and the the one with the most ascent and descent in one day!

It’s not very often that I look at the statistics that modern day technology can give you, but here are just a few from my five weeks away.

  • 12,865 metres of ascent
  • 9,389 metres of descent (the difference between ascent and descent was the helicopter ride from Baruntse Base Camp to Lukla)
  • 175km walked
  • 84 hours 32 minutes walked (including all stops and rest’s during the walk).
  • 1.3km per hour, slowest pace, average for the day
  • 4.1km per hour, fastest pace, average for the day
  • 2.07km per hour average pace
  • 29,591 kcal’s burned during the walks
  • 6,161 metres, maximum height
  • -22 degrees, lowest temperature
  • 26 degrees, highest temperature
  • £23, the average daily cost per wear of my high altitude boots since purchasing them in 2012!

Just a few facts, I very nearly put some clothing facts down, but decided too many of you would think I was a tramp… I have seriously thought about throwing some of the garments away! But I’ll see if Carolynn can resurrect them!

My thoughts are now turning to home…

Old & Gnarled

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Old and just a little Gnarled

Before you think that I’m talking about the author, let me just say he doesn’t look a day over 25! Today, however, is my last day of trekking out from Lukla. I have arrived at Pkaplu with three days spare. I have to admit I’m not sure exactly what I’m going to do for three days here. Any more walking I do will just have to be local wanderings, maybe up to the monastery at Chiwang as there is a week of celebrations going on.

Old and Gnarled… it referred to the ancient forest we walked through. A very pleasant change from the steep valley crossing we’ve been doing. I did gain over 500m as we wandered along the ridge, it was a slow gain in height, nothing too strenuous. The forest showed the full cycle of life, the massive old, gnarled trees, the fallen rotting timber that was slowly decaying back into the ground, giving back what it had taken. It was a trail, where man had very little influence, with Mother Nature doing what she does best and the only sign of human intervention was the odd abandoned Yak shelter, that’s used for a couple of months in the high Summer.

After gaining height to 3,550m we descended fairly steeply to the Chiwang Monastery. It was a total contrast to villages we’d passed through. If I said it was clean, tidy and well looked after, I think that’d be doing the villages a very big injustice. Village life here is hard, with what appears to be subsistence farming as the main type of industry, with very little commercial farming or any commercial industry of any sort. The Monastery, though, was just spotless. All the visitors were in their Sunday best and proud of their appearance… does it take a religion to bring out the best in many people? I was going to be staying at the Monastery a couple of nights, but the lodgings were all full due to the festival, so we carried on down to the end of our trek out, Pkaplu and the thought of that 10 hour drive back to Kathmandu.

Old & Gnarled?

The trek out of Lukla has been a wonderful revelation to me. Seeing young people traveling without guides, experiencing Nepal first hand, rather than being mollycoddled, like me, by a guide and porters. I will say at this point, I like being mollycoddled, I’m at an age where the thought of there being ‘no room at the inn’ at the end of the day doesn’t appeal. But to see these young people, with their bulging rucksacks and their upbeat attitudes reminds me of my hitchhiking days, where I took a ride, never sure where I’d end up, as the moto was always ‘never refuse a ride’. That seems like a lifetime away now. There are a few trekking groups here, but very few compared to the area above Lukla. I feel a brief explanation is necessary as to why Lukla is the point where the intrepid youngsters and trekking groups converge. Lukla has an airport originally put foreword by Sir Edmund Hillary to give easier access to the Everest region. To fly into Lukla is not overly cheap, whereas to to take a Jeep to the end of the road at Phaplu then walk in, is probably a quarter of the cost. A lodge for example below Lukla costs as little as £1 a night per person, but you have to eat at least two meals there at a rate of approx. £5 or £6! I think that probably explains why the more intrepid and those on a tight budget are happy to walk for four days into Lukla and the gateway to Everest.

So today Tshering took me to a refugee camp. I have to say I was just a little sceptical. Why would I want to see, basically a prison camp? That’s what springs to my mind when someone mentions a refugee camp, not normally a place to visit, but I kept an open mind! It was in fact a Tibetan camp set up over 40 years ago, when the Chinese illegally invaded and annexed Tibet.

The camp has no barbed wire, no guards or no form confinement at all and when I approached it looked like a well organised and well funded village. There were schools, a Monastery, tea house etc. The people were friendly, one particular person was overly friendly, but then most drinks are! But he sat and spoke to me for 30 minutes while I drank my Masala Tea. His English was Tibetan, punctuated with the odd English word and then a roar of laughter, and he had a smile I’ll never forget. It was an experience that wouldn’t normally be on the tourist trail, but I’m glad Tshering took me.

Old & Gnarled

The Decsent

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The climb down from Camp One took just half the time than on the way up. Then a helicopter out of Base Camp to the metropolis that is Lukla. The world looks very different from the air, a full 3 dimensional map. The ride wasn’t as good as in 2015 as this pilot had a schedule to keep to, but it was still one to savour.

Lukla was a bit of a culture shock. I was put up in a hotel with an en-suite bathroom, with a shower, sit down toilet and sink… maybe not Premier Inn standard but it was far better than an outside squat on the rocks toilet, a shower that was a bucket and cup and a bedroom that was somewhat drafty with flexible cloth walls, limited headroom and a solid mattress, commonly called a ‘tent’.

Lukla has thrived due to having ‘the worlds most dangerous airport’, which has made it the gateway to the Everest and Makalu regions of the Himalaya and is probably the most popular region for tourist in the Himalaya, with access to Everest Base Camp, the trekking peaks of Mera Peak, Island Peak etc and of course access to three of the highest mountains in the world. It’s a place that caters for the trekker and climber, giving that home familiarity for those returning from the mountains and those about enter into their own journal of self discovery (just taking the mick as most of you know, I believe a ‘journey of self discovery is a load of b…..ks). It has an Irish Pub! But then what town doesn’t! There used to be a Starbucks… I have a feeling that it wasn’t their coffee, but it was still a great advert for them, knock off or not. That however has been replaced by an Illy. I think it’s authentic! Wi-fi is available everywhere, it’s just like home! Most people fly in and out, but we’re going to walk out, so the journey south to Kathmandu begins.

The first days trek was uneventful , 10km, 740m of descent and 630m of ascent. But the interesting thing is that the privileged OAP’s, like me have disappeared, to be replaced by youngsters making their own way up to Everest Base Camp or the Three Pass Circuit. They are mainly self guiding. A confidence that I no longer have. I have to say it makes me extremely happy to see these twenty somethings independently making their way up to these lofty places.

The second day was 1,300m of descent with 300m of ascent, I just get the feeling that there’s going to be a sting in the tail on the third day. Tshering said the views from our Lodge will be fantastic and views generally don’t come low down!

I thought I’d pay for the last two days of reasonably easy walking and today’s the day! I’m drenched in my own bodily fluids, all I want to do is stick my head in the running water of a moulin. Instead I’m 2,100m up and it’s over 20 degrees! I’m now sat at 2,500m looking down on the village I’ve just walked through, having lunch. There are terrace’s of Maze, Barley, Beans and would you believe Tomatoes! It’s a wonder to me how they manage to grow anything when you compare them to our sometimes 10 acre fields!

The Village, not even shown on the map

The path mainly leads us through the dark trees and I miss what really is quite a big village and the biggest building is the Secondary School, which I assume is fed by the many other small villages in the valley. The dirt road you can see is fairly new, it has absolutely no traffic on it! The reason’s simple, at the bottom of the valley where this road and the one that will eventually go to Lukla meet there is a Dudh Kosi River, which originates in the Everest area and by this point is not a river you’d like to try and ford, even with a vehicle! It’s a ragging torrent, to put it mildly and guess what isn’t yet anywhere near completion… a bridge!

The only thing that spoils the peace and quite, besides my tinnitus, is the constant stream of helicopters and aircraft coming in and out of Lukla Airport… I won’t moan as I’ve used both on a number of occasions! But sometimes I do long for that absolute quite we got at Camp One on Barunste.

Sorry this is a bit disjointed, but I’m writing it on the go.

200m of descent and 1,600m of ascent. A tough day, but I’m now on the crest of Taksindu La in a great lodge at 3,071m… I don’t appear to have lost any height from Lukla, in fact I’ve bloody well gained a couple hundred metres, but I’m told the views will be worth it, that’s assuming the cloud disappears, which I’m sure they will. Hopefully two days here then down again!

Failure in the High Himalaya

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Barunste Summit from Camp One

A harsh title, but true. The weather window was absolutely fabulous for the next five days, sunshine and the forecast of very little wind (although this turned out not to be correct), Perfect. I’d rested for two days and taken a short walk to acclimatise. Everything was perfect… except me it seems. The walk up to the Head Wall took nearly five hours, most people do it in three to four. I was slow and had to stop on a regular basis, which isn’t like me. I’m one that can normally keep a steady pace up or down, never fast but consistent. I have to admit climbing the Head Wall was great fun, even if I used a rope that’s put in at the beginning of each season, it’s still a challenge and one I always enjoy. I am ashamed to say, though that I accepted the offer from Tshering for him to carry up my rucksack as well as his own. The only thing that made me feel a little better was that once at the top he dumped his and my rucksack to go down to relieve the Porter of his load and brought it to the top.

The Head Wall

I’m going to try to explain how I felt. Everyone’s body works differently. I believe that mine is reasonably fit for its age, even though I abused it with nicotine for 27 odd years. For me walking at sea level is just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, uphill causes my body to perspire and causes my breathing to heighten, fairly normal, I think. Whilst training for Barunste I tried to take that up a notch and take my breathing to its extreme. What I have found, though, as I’ve got older is that no matter how hard I push, if my heart says ‘No that’s enough’ then I struggle to push beyond that limit. So I’m not sure how much my fitness has improved over the last couple of years (and as you all know I am partial to a bit of cake on a regular basis). Anyway back up to the walk to Camp 1, my breathing was more laborious than It should have been, sucking for air more often and more violently than I’ve ever known. The lack of Oxygen caused my body to try to take double breaths a strange phenomena, the only way I can describe the sensation is when as a boy you’d climb up a rope until you got a funny sensation in your groin (men might relate, women won’t), the difference being is the double breath wasn’t a pleasant sensation, it was one that caused my body to involuntary gulp for more air and one I had no control over. Maybe it’s a form of hyperventilating, I don’t know, I’ve never hyperventilated before. Once I stopped it disappeared and my body went back to normal, immediately, strange! This reaction from my body didn’t have the desired effect of making the walking any easier!

On reaching Camp One and looking up at the 1,000m left to climb, my confidence in my ability to reach the summit just vanished. All confidence in myself vanished, was it a lack of acclimatisation or was I just kidding myself that I was capable of climbing this 7,129m Peak? I’ve never been one to worry about using the word failure, each failure teachers a lesson, sometimes I heed that lesson, sometimes I ignore it. This is the second time that the Himalaya have thrown this lesson at me and I’ve decided to heed it.

Do I feel gutted and disappointed, a little, but I can live with it. I’ve managed to get a couple of these high peaks under my belt, and been reasonably high on a couple of others and have seen views that have brought tears to my eyes, seen views where I know my Father was stood there next to me and admired them with me and would have been proud, as I hope one day my children will be. And as I’ve said many times in the past that I’d love to be able to share what I see and feel with Carolynn I know she knows, but am reasonably sure she’d rather look at the photographs! I have seen views that I have tried to share with my photography, but I don’t think that I have been ever able to show the joy I have in actually being there and watching that sunrise or sunset or that view that you know has only ever been seen by a few people.

Makati from The West Col of Baruntse

I have seen from Camp One, the one mountain that inspired me all those years ago at a lecture given by Doug Scott… Makalu, the fifth highest mountain in the world. As I walked into Camp One it dominates the landscape. The mighty West & South West Faces loom almost vertical from the valley floor, just below us. For me it’s a unique opportunity to photograph it at all times of the day and one of the photographs just might end up on the wall at home.

I make no excuses, the weather is good, my acclimatisation has been good, my mentor and guide is one of the best… sometimes you just have to admit, even with all the training, I’m just not good enough. There’s no shame in that, I know now that It’s time to stick to lower altitude treks and admire the high Himalaya from a distance.

A quick update on the weather. At Camp One there was very little wind, however the only other climber on the mountain at the same time as me descended from Camp Two and didn’t make a summit attempt as the winds where blowing to a point where walking became extremely difficult… this also adds considerable to the windchill factor where temperatures are already at -20 degrees.

It’s a Bloody Big Mountain

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After 11 days of traveling I’ve eventually arrived at Barunste Base Camp. I think the title says it all! I’m at the highest I’ve been since the beginning of the trip at 5,426m and the summit of Barunste looms another 1,703 vertical metres above me and about 8.5km… 8.5km, even I can run that in an hour, but this I believe will take considerably longer!

Today is a rest day. To leisurely sleep in your nice warm tent as the sun makes it feels like a greenhouse, or sit in the mess tent reading or listening to music or a story book. But I decided to go for a walk. There’s good reasoning for my decision, well two good reasons, anyway. The first to better acclimatise, the old adage’ walk high sleep low’ and the second, I wanted to look at the head wall climb and to see whether it looked as vertical close up as it did from a distance. Fortunately perspective and reality were at odds and what appeared vertical from Base Camp is about 45 degrees, so in fact half way off vertical!

The walk was a three and a half hour round trip and I was at least 30 minutes from where we’d start climbing the head wall and I’m going to be doing this at least a couple more times. Not an unpleasant walk when doing it once but multiple times just might be a tad tedious.

Another thing about a rest day, it’s time to look at one’s hygiene. So I splashed out and had a shower, not the sort of shower most of you are accustomed too, though,,. Half a bucket of warm water inside a shower sized tent with a rock floor as a drain! It’s also a time for assessing whether or not you’ve been wearing the same clothes for too long, my wash bag is filling slowly, after 11 days I have two dirty pairs of pants, two dirty pairs of socks, one dirty shirt and two dirty handkerchiefs. I can also say that my shorts and summer weight walking trousers are also dirty and are of no further use on this expedition. It’s true that the body learns to clean itself when no longer attacked by detergents on a daily basis! Would I clear a train carriage… probably, but no-one notices up here.

This, the second rest day will be spent sorting out my climbing gear. Double checking everything works and is there. A little late, but it’s just peace of mind. I’ll make sure all those pesky, heavy electronics are all charged up and ready to go. Most of all the second test day will be a day of doing nothing, but eating, napping and aimlessly wandering around Base Camp!

I’ve just watched ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’. I downloaded on my iPad to watch during these rest days… isn’t just the most amazing film, is there a Walter in all of us?

The Only Sound

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I’m sat on a rock in the middle of the afternoon surrounded by 7,000m peaks, the snow covered mountain faces reflect the harsh light of the mid afternoon sun, causing me to squint as I peer up at them. The only sound is the noise of a milky turquoise stream meandering through the valley and the slight hiss of that bitter wind as it wraps around my head. One of the mountains is Chamlang with its 2,000m south face as glaciers hang precariously, just waiting to reveal the dark grey rock that it has sculptured since the last ice age.

Is it here that I’m at peace? If it is it would only ever be half at peace as half of me is missing, forever wrapped in her love. My shadow as I’m sat on the rock is rapidly lengthening and the suns heat decreases like someone has flipped a switch and the shivering reflex begins and my thoughts return to keeping warm and go and fetch my camera as that 2,000m face of Chamlang begins its transition from a harsh white, gradually softening to an orange glow and finally a dark featureless mass as dusk turns to darkness.

All Walks of Life

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I think until, maybe the last 15 – 20 years or so trekking in the Himalaya has been the domaine of the retired, ‘let’s rough it for a couple of weeks’ brigade. Again a very broad pompous generalisation. I just wanted you to understand where I’m coming from with no misconceptions. At the other end of the scale climbing in the Himalaya was left to the experts who spent much of their time begging for sponsorship so that they could afford the big expeditions that the Himalaya attracted.

I just caught the very tail end of the ‘let’s rough it for a couple of weeks’ brigade. In 2007 I used a company called Catreks, the reason I chose it was because it was owned by Doug Scott. His philosophy seemed to be to scale down the big expedition mentality to suite those that wanted to trek. The service was excellent, woken by a hot cup of tea followed by hot washing water and a breakfast fit for a king sat at a high table. A hot lunch would be provided halfway through the day and camp would be all set up on your arrival… anyway hopefully you get my drift. That first trek I was on, the clientele were retired teachers, retired professionals, but it was the start of the transition and there were a young couple, a journalist and a mad cap Chinese Liverpudlian. The retired teachers and professionals defiantly expected the ‘full’ service, me, well, I didn’t really know what to expect. But the high level of service, I have to say for me wasn’t unwelcome.

Over the last 15 or so years that I’ve traveled to the Himalaya both for climbing and trekking, times have definitely changed. The Nepalis have taken a greater control of their tourist industry and the somewhat pompous mentality that the West had, has nearly died out (on this trip I have observed a couple of nations that seem to think that the world revolves around them and them alone and still expect a that kind of service) attracting a far more diverse group and age of people.

The first group I met were a mixture, there were no couples but most had partners at home. Being away from your partner affects people in different ways. Two or three of them appeared to have no qualms with leaving their partner at home, no news is good news. One wanted some form of contact most days and another thought that his partner would be extremely worried after no contact in seven days. We’re all different and try and cope with a partners absence in different ways on these trips. I won’t get into the discussion about ‘why go’ if you miss your partner, in this blog. Just one thing on technology, the problem is the misconception that technology works with out interruption in these high mountains and it doesn’t, far from it. It isn’t helped by many of the operators, who will often state that either Wi-Fi or phone signals are available when in the lodges.

The other big group I actually met in Kathmandu was an Australian group. The owner of the company, Nick Farr I met back in 2011, whilst climbing Island Peak and we’ve kept in touch since then. It was pure coincidence that we were in Kathmandu at the same time. His group were also heading for Mera Peak. Again a very diverse group. A family with two children, I think they were middle to late teens, a father and son and the son having ambitions to climb an 8,000m peak. The rest were a mixture of ages and abilities, some never having been to the Himalaya and those that had been on numerous occasions. Nick’s a great leader, but this, like me could well be his last trip to the Himalaya as he wants to spend more time with his growing family. There’s a slim possibility that Nick’s group will be in Khare later this afternoon. It’d be good to meet up with them before I move on over Mera La tomorrow.

PEOPLE… once we entered the Hinka Valley, PEOPLE everywhere, I mean it was like coming out of a football match at Wembley, jostling and shoving for your own space, OK a slight exaggeration. But those photographs of the queues on Everest are nothing compared to the number of people heading towards Mera Peak. It’s not a large peak and would probably only accommodate 20 people, comfortably on its summit at any one time, but the biggest restriction is that High Camp will only hold 70 people. It is possible to ‘wild camp’ further up the mountain but most of the summiteers are with groups and they are not geared up for carrying their own tents and all the equipment required. So High Camp remains the limiting factor on how many people can summit in any one day. The groups are large, German, French, East European, Australian and of course British. There are a few pairs or individuals like myself but not many. As these groups are so big they dominate the dining areas reserving tables long before they sit down to eat, even to the extent of moving tables together whilst a poor Korean guy was sat having a drink! It was a little bit like reserving sun beds abroad… need I say any more.

A final word on PEOPLE, when I arrived at Khare yesterday lunchtime, sat in the dining area was one of the most surreal sights I’ve seen. A group of very glamorous middle aged ladies from Norway, were sat having lunch. They were dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, heavily made up and with nails my daughter in laws would have been proud of. I spoke to one of the two 6’ tall leaders and they were just on there way up to Mera Base Camp hoping to summit in two days time. They organise trips mainly to Kilimanjaro and this was there first time back to Mera Peak in four years. I would love to see their summit photographs they would make any LGBGT parade look dull!

So the days of the somewhat pampered over the top service that companies used to supply are limited and become more scarce as all generations can now enjoy, what I believe to be some of the most beautiful mountains in the world. I know it’s not everyone’s idea of a holiday, but it is good to see so many and diverse people on the mountains. I might not be a lover of crowds but I am a believer in the mountains and the countryside being open to ALL.

Tomorrow I move on away from the PEOPLE and into the Barunste valley, where I expect there to be just a few PEOPLE!

The Trek In

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I’ve decided not to do a blow by blow account of the trek in. Basically it consists of me following in Tshering’s footsteps. Doesn’t really make for interesting reading. So I thought for the trek to Base Camp I’d try and describe the people, places and the atmosphere.

Unlike on previous trips I’m staying in lodges rather than camping. I’m not a lover of camping, although for some reason I seem to have done a fair amount over the last few years, It can be uncomfortable, noisy, wet, cold, need I go on!

Back in 2007 on my first trip to the Himalaya, I went with a company called CatTreks and we camped in the grounds of the tea houses, I have to say I wondered why. After the first night I knew, the tea houses were extremely basic and the company wanted to be able to control all aspects of hygiene and food… remember we are all pampered Westerners and very few of us are able to tolerate the locally sourced and cooked food and especially the water. I know that’s a grave generalisation , but Dheli Belly is not something that anyone of us wants.

So since that first trip I’ve camped. This is the first trip that I haven’t, we’re using tea houses and lodges all the way to Base Camp, so this experience is new to me. Our walk in started at a little known place near Bung in the Makalu National Park along paths very rarely used by trekkers. So I was expecting the lodges to be very basic.

Firstly I’ll try and explain what you get at an average lodge/tea house. There’s the kitchen, which is the tradesmen’s entrance, always warm as there’s always a fire on, so that’s where all the Sherpas and porters seem to migrate to. The main entrance generally leads to the dining room, which has bench seating along with the tables around the outside and the most important thing, the log or Yak dung burner in the centre of the room. Probably not the safest log burner you’ll ever see but definitely one of the most appreciative that you’ll ever find. Upstairs, often using outside steep stone or wooden steps, to gain entry are the totally unsound proofed bedrooms and I mean you can could probably even hear someone pick their nose! But that’s what you get. The food is a local take on a Western menu… you can have a plate of chips, for example, but you’ll get nothing else! So you have to remember to order, another dish, such as fried eggs, separately and these will come on a separate plate, as there wouldn’t be room on the plate of chips as it would be literally piled high.

What I forgot is that they are all very dark. Most are powered by solar power, with very small windows. So all in all they’re not the most welcoming of places. Having said all of that the people are extremely welcoming. Hospitality doesn’t come with wealth and possessions, it comes with a smile that’s both genuine and sincere, which the Nepalese appear to have in abundance.

So, after a lot of waffle, I’ll briefly describe the tea houses/lodges that we’ve been staying in. The first night was certainly a grand entrance into the dining area, with satellite TV, the downside the remote was in the hands of a 16 year old! The sleeping area was up some open stone stairs fixed into the outside of the building. I’ve been told that steps are designed to be an optimal height, any slight change in that causes people to trip, well as you’ve probably already guessed, these were not of uniform height, width or even flat, with no handrail and at the top of the Stairs laid a dog, curled up fast asleep. The top, probably about two foot square was open on all sides except for the entrance into the building and the dog claimed most of that space and wasn’t in any hurry to move! The bedroom was like all the the bedrooms 2m x 3m with two single beds, with pretty solid mattress’s. I won’t bother describing them as they are all a variation on that theme. I was the only guest and was mothered and fussed over by the lady in charge. That also appears to be a similar theme that the wife runs the lodge, where the husbands are I’ve no idea?

The second lodge came into view very suddenly and wow it looked brand new, I had a smile from ear to ear. There has to be a bit, when I say looked brand new, it was, in fact only 70% complete. We’ve all heard these horror stories of unfinished hotels and the noise of the building work. Apparently the old lodge was accidentally burned down and was being rebuilt and the building work went on while ever there was light. The owner insisted on giving me a tour of where the new toilets and shower would be and the private rooms with wonderful views. From the previous sentence you have made the obvious assumption that the old toilet’s were still in use. They, of course, were nowhere near the original building that was burned down, in fact they were on the edge of a ‘long drop’ hence the name ‘long drop toilet’. In the morning I found out why I had the tour, he asked for a contribution towards the rebuilding costs.

It’s here that I met the first group of trekkers and low and behold they were British. They were on their way to climb Mera Peak, not the normal route, but certainly one that is a more interesting trail than the normal route and far quieter. A great group and we were to follow each other for the next few days. Now the third lodge was very different. Probably it was originally built as a place to summer pasture the animals and now run by two young ladies as more tourists start to use this particular trail. They were very, very welcoming and led me into the dining area, which was nearly pitch black, with a doorway considerably lower than my 6’ and I have the bruise to prove it. I do wonder if its previous use was to shelter the animals in bad weather. This camp was at 4,250m a place I was going to spend two nights to acclimatise… but I decided as all was going well I’d carry on the next day into the Mera valley and as it turned out PEOPLE.