Author Topic: Your most memorable hike  (Read 4146 times)

Davidedgarjones

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Re: Your most memorable hike
« Reply #30 on: 21:15:31, 04/11/18 »
Some 64 years ago, at the age of 9, I'd arranged with a friend that we should walk from Cefn Coed to Brecon! When I called for him, he'd decided not to come, so I set off on my own. After what seemed an appropriate elapse of time (I had no watch) I decided it was lunchtime and ate my sandwiches. I then decided that I'd had enough and returned home, where I was surprised to discover that the time was only 11am.


You might wonder, as I did later, what on earth my parents were doing letting me go off on such a hare-brained adventure.


When walking on my own I often think back on it.


Dave

richardh1905

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Re: Your most memorable hike
« Reply #31 on: 08:16:19, 06/11/18 »
Nice tale, Dave; made me smile.
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Sleepy

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Re: Your most memorable hike
« Reply #32 on: 18:23:40, 09/11/18 »
I have several - I know it defeats the point of this thread but as I cant choose;


The walk I'm most grateful for;


I'd have been around 9 years old and probably in cubs. My father had done a fair bit of walking in his youth and, seeing mine and my twin brother's appetite for this new found outdoor adventure, took to taking us on walks whenever he could. We lived in south Wales and covered some of the hills with him for several years. We weren't well off as he'd been made redundant several times running (as the electronics industry moved overseas) so some things were an unheard of luxury most of the time.


We'd walked for a couple of hours, all the time being taught little snippets about the flaura and forna and, of course map reading. We came to a sheepfold in driving sleet where he produced a tarpaulin and built a small shelter, closely followed by a gas stove with the pierced type cylinder, a frying pan, bread and a pack of bacon! Bacon was among the luxuries we very rarely had which made it even more special but shelter and warm food at that moment was like heaven to the two young boys and I'm sure he was equally happy to be there. It's one of my earliest memories of him, life and walking and one I'll treasure for life even if it doesn't seem anything particularly special.




The second, I guess could be called the most rewarding; A few years ago, when sparklebug conquered Snowdon. For those who didn't know her, Sparklebug was a member on here who I more or less took under my wing; she wasn't super-fit and wasn't the most confident walker but she was determined and was also a generally nice person to be around. I think she came to WF looking for a bit of support, technically, emotionally, and a bit of everything in between.


We'd done quite a few walks and she'd come a long way, she really had a thirst for the whole walking thing and was on here an awful lot asking lots of questions and generally getting involved. I'd joked a couple of times that I'd be taking her to Snowdonia and was surprised to see that despite her feigning discomfort about the whole idea - she was actually very keen to go - but only if I felt she was up to it. I felt a surge of pride, not only in myself but in sparklebug too - I'd seen her ups and downs but also how far she'd come in so little time really. She could now pitch her tent by herself (even if it was in the lowest point of the field and guaranteed to flood - which it did  ::) ), cover respectable distances and get up some pretty tough terrain.


I hatched a plan; it was to be snowdon, just in case the train was required to get us back down and we'd use the Llanberis path as it wasn't any steeper than what we'd done before. It was pretty slow going but she made it up and back down with almost no complaining. The pride in her eyes was all the thanks I needed and not something I'll forget in a hurry. TR HERE




And, finally, The scariest one;


Now, I never thought I held life all that dear if I'm honest - There's a lot of things I don't like and I'd thought of death in a nonchalant "at least I'll be away from this [censored]" kind of way. However, this walk changed things.......


It was new year's day 2016 and as I finally had some time to myself I packed my stuff, checked the 5year old mars bars were still in my rucksack (EMERGENCY rations  :D ) and whizzed off across to Snowdonia. The plan was pretty simple as it was very much a last minute decision; I'd climb Y Garn from the Ogwen valley, possibly see the summit at night and definitely wild camp on the Ogwen side (iirc, the wind was from the west)


However, coming from Capel Curig, I took the wrong turn and ended up on the Llanberis side. It didn't matter much, I'd just have to use the other side of the mountain. I parked up and got myself organised, it was already dark but I'd been expecting that. I left my iceaxe and crampons in the car; I hadn't seen any snow or ice and it wasn't especially cold - although I couldn't see higher up because of the dark.


This side of Y Garn felt much steeper than the other and also seemed to be devoid of any little plateaus to put my tent on so I decided to press on, see the summit and go down the far side to a spot I'd camped on before. The final 200m had a coating of ice and, if it weren't for the sharp scree just about sticking through solid ice, I wouldn't have been able to get up it but then it struck me - how do I walk back down this stuff!? It was seriously steep and looking down, the slope appeared to be an enormous pool of black water that even my headtorch couldn't penetrate. I chose to inch my way down on my bum, thankful for the near zero visibility in the blackness  ::) . This was taking too long though, if I carried on like this I'd be well on my way to hypothermia before the ice subsided  :-\  I chose to carefully let myself slide a little bit and control it with my hands and feet  ???


Except this wasn't controlled at all, I was gaining speed quickly and nothing was helping..... I started to panic with the realisation that I was heading for an edge, the Ogwen valley side with it's uninviting, jagged terrain and names like "devil's kitchen" and "bristly ridge" not to mention whatever the welsh names might translate to. There's a mountain rescue place down there too and that would really be a typical end for me - with my luck.


I rolled onto my front and scrabbled with my fingers like some desperate soul trying to save themselves from being dragged into hell, my attempt proved equally futile so I rolled onto my back again, all the time still getting faster and faster. Finally, I managed to dig my heels in enough to stop. I sat in silence for a moment, my fingertips felt raw as did my rear end but I was otherwise unscathed.


I walked back down the steep side that I'd come up, planning to reach my car and go lick my wounds at a campsite instead but I found that I'd wandered into a trap - in the middle of a fork in a stream, it wasn't on the map but it certainly was there in real life, except having been fed by melting ice it was a very loud raging torrent that I had no chance of crossing! I walked up and down both streams but couldn't see any way across, the noise was making it difficult to think and the ground was too steep to camp on - I wasn't having much fun here! I wandered around for a while and eventually found a less steep patch to camp on, I still probably wouldn't be able to sleep because I'd slide to the bottom of my tent but it was shelter and I could take stock in the morning.


After an awesome meal and a couple of mugs of hot chocolate, I got into my mega thick down bag and braced my feet against the tent wall to stop myself sliding downhill. Sleep was non existant; the slope, the noise and my sore bum/thighs weren't the only cause though, I had a lot on my mind - how could I have been so stupid!? I'm supposed to be better than that. But also, I WANTED to live - I REALLY fought hard to survive back there so something inside me must think it's worthwhile - I'd eaten the whole bloody humble pie  :-\  and I don't think it was a bad thing. I made it back to my car without any more trouble and got some water on for a coffee I'd promised myself, as I started sipping the hot sweet liquid though I found myself staring straight at my winter boots, ice axe and crampons  ???  a lesson learned indeed.....  

humansnail

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Re: Your most memorable hike
« Reply #33 on: 19:03:02, 09/11/18 »
Walking up Suilven in Assynt for the first time was my most memorable walk. When I first got up  and the views opened up I genuinely had to gasp for breath. Truly breath taking. It was a crystal clear day and perfect conditions. All the hills I've been up in that area are incredible, but as that was the first one I went up it has really stuck with me. I just stood there for ages open mouthed barely being able to believe I was still in the UK. It felt like being on another planet!

KimE

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Re: Your most memorable hike
« Reply #34 on: 20:04:53, 09/11/18 »
Then i was 13 i packed a backpack, and took out a straight compass line through forest and mountains about 12km to a friend. The first night i walked so long i had to pitch the tent in the dark in a very uncomfortable cultivated clearcut, i didnt sleep well. On the second day i reached my friends house and we had a cup of coffe made on a open fire with brown water from a peatbog (perfectly safe). The last day i walked home useing more tracks and forest roads than on the way out.

 

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