Walking Forum
Main Boards => General Walking Discussion => Topic started by: cornwallcoastpathdweller on 13:42:02, 04/07/20
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October 2018 i was given a pretty poor prognosis with Oespohagal cancer, now being a stubborn sort of individual i decided i wanted to walk up Snowdon one last time, so i dragged the wife there one weekend from Cornwall, she hates walking with almost as much passion as i love it.
We set off up the Pyg track, with my ears being chewed all the way, reached the summit then decending by the same route we crossed paths with a full blown nun, complete with flowing habit and huge crucifix heading upwards amongst all the usual hikers. Could have stepped straight out of the film Sister Act.
Having never seen a 'proper' nun ever before or since in my life i hope she made it to the top. I recon she did, and had a few words with the Man himself, as im still around to recant the tale.
So whats everybody elses oddest experiences?
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Dare I tell you?
OK, I will. A few years ago doing the North to South Pennine Way route I stopped, sat on a rock, and was eating a sandwich when a young lady hiker came along going North. Very chatty, so she sat down near to me to eat something herself. She then said that she was hot (it was hot that day) and proceeded to take all of her clothes off, except bra and panties, and then put fresh clothes on right in front of me. She carried on eating and chatting with me as she did so.
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Or that time when I was hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc. I was camping and two tents away was a middle-aged lady who kept getting in and out of her tent numerous times and kept walking under a nearby tree numerous times and appeared to be talking to someone up on a branch. I was wrong. I soon twigged that in fact, she was under the tree talking to the sky. She was suffering from a mental health problem and later when I chatted to a member of staff I found out that her French local authority was trying out a scheme where they offered their 'patients' or 'clients' a rucksack, tent, etc with some money and encouraged them to go for a hike. She obviously had taken up the offer.
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2 odd ones recently which i will have to be wary how I word myself as the politically correct police may find fault.
earlier in the week, as I walked along the street, I passed a rotund Man who was wearing an extremely short negligee that the wind was flipping up giving anyone walking towards him a view of his back underpants. He had on a pair of woman's slip on court shoes and had a medical face mask covering his facial stubble. He was busy texting so didn't look up as I passed. I didn't recognise him.
2 days later I encountered a tall skinny man walking with a staff. He was wearing a Down jacket and a Bright red mini Kilt that didn't even reach mid thigh.
We came towards each other on a narrow road, manners made me say "good morning" And he replied.
He had an English accent and again I realised he wasn't local.
I went home and searched the Web to see if there was some sort of Convention on but got no clarity.
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Seeing a totally deserted Snowdonia, with not a single car or walker in sight, will probably live with me for the rest of my days.
Leaving Llanberis, towards Pen Y Pass, no cars, no people, and apart from the bird song, total silence.
After my walk, i continued up the pass, towards that ever so busy Pen Y Pass carpark, and Youth Hostel, totally deserted.
Approaching the Pen Y Gwryd, it was closed.
I stopped for a few moments in the lay by opposite, and took in the magnificent views.
Looking down the Gwynant valley, NOTHING, not a single car, or person.
I was totally alone in what must be one of the busiest walking tourist spots in the whole of the Uk.
It was not until i reached home in Dyffryn, that i reflected on my experience that afternoon.
The entire Snowdonia National Park in complete lockdown, i will probably never see that again
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About a year ago I was walking through a field near Cowfold in the Sussex Weald. A string of monks in white habits appeared from the opposite direction, going a walk. They had obviously emanated from the nearby monastery.
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That reminds me Dovergirl....
Walking along banks of river Tyne in Jarrow chatting to a local lass, when a guy came running towards us in an orange cloak. He politely said hello and continued on his run.
He was one of the local monks out jogging, she said!
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Reminds me that when I was at University one of our tutors used to lecture in a back Batman type cloak. He used for effect by doing swish turns as he paced up and down in front of us.
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I won't bore you with my animal experiences!
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Definately a 'religious' bias so far then with nuns and monks.
Not quite sure where id put myself with a man in a negligee lol, probably a good distance pronto would be the wisest idea.
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The first time I went up Lonscale Fell, as the summit came into view pulling up the last leg from the top of Whit Beck I saw a guy stood by the cairn admiring the view up Borrowdale. Stark naked. As soon as he noticed me, he hastily got dressed and scuttled away, so by the time I arrived he was sat 50' or so down the southern slope.
On another occasion, I was out in the Shap Fells doing the Crookdale Horseshoe, and as I arrived on one of the summits I found a couple of nudists sunbathing at the other side of the cairn. I walked up to the cairn and away again, and they didn't even notice.
I once passed a guy walking the South West Way barefoot. Rather him than me.
On the nun theme, I passed one outside Rievaulx Abbey, but that was when I was cycle touring.
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In 2015 on the GR10 in France, I'd met a couple of people and we were approaching the large village of Loudonville. It had rained that morning and we had to walk downhill for a while on a smooth and wet tarmac zig-zag road. Suddenly we heard a crash behind us, a middle-aged male cyclist in full Lycra gear had taken a corner too fast and had spread himself and his expensive racing bike all over the road.
We rushed back to help him, he didn't look too pretty but he brushed us aside. He grabbed for his mobile phone and phoned his wife to collect him, she was down in the village waiting for him. He was a bit bloody, in some pain and he was embarrassed as well.
She soon appeared in their Volkswagon motor caravan, they were on holiday from Ireland. She told us that her husband wasn't really a cyclist, it was their routine that she would drive him and bike up to the top of a Col and she would then drive back to their agreed meeting place. He, in Lycra and on bike would then freewheel down the road. He liked to relive moments from the Tour de France, but only the downhill sections!
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I have had a couple of encounters with military aircraft, that are probably not that uncommon, but seem very odd at the timeMy wife and I were walking from the summit of Whiteless Pike on the way to Grasmoor. Two jets passed so low over us that we felt the need to duck. They then descended into the valley so that we could look down on them. On another occasion I was scrambling up a steep section of Pen Yr Ole Wen and nearly jumped out of my skin and off the rock face when two jets suddenly roared along the A5 below me. Fortunately, I had four points of contact at the time.
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My companion and I had traversed the Glyders and ascended Tryfan by the south ridge. We descended by the gully and scree slope on the western face just after the main summit. As we got to the grass, a runner in vest and shorts appeared from the mist and just as quickly vanished again. We descended below the mist and saw an interesting family outing. The group of five had obviously parked alongside the A5 and then headed off-piste over relatively flat ground. What I assumed to be the father was kitted out in a 3 piece suit, tie and once shiny black leather shoes. His wife and mother (or mother in law) were dressed in what looked like their best saris and the two kids were in Sunday best. We didn’t actually meet up with them, as they were not on a path.
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A few years ago I walked the West Highland way and had got to a car park on Loch Lomand and sat at a picnic table. A BMW parked just opposite me. A young Mum and Dad got out with their two children, a boy and a girl aged about 8 - 10 years.
Mum and Dad were all kitted out in their Rab gear, from head to toe, I could see what make their boots were but they were all leather. They looked magnificent!
They then spent some time dressing their two children in good looking gear, they too looked magnificent.
The family then strolled to the edge of Loch Lomond, they walked up and down for a short while, Dad skimmed a couple of stones and then they walked back to their car. Mum and Dad then undressed the children, neatly folded their 'hiking' clothes into the boot, and redressed them in the clothes they had arrived in.
They then all got in their car and drove off! That was it!
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About thirty years ago I briefly visited Chamonix on my car journey back from the Pyrenees. I got up early one morning having planned to ascend in the cable car to the Aiguille du Midi.
Waiting my turn in the queue I saw a man approach dressed in plus-fours and matching tweed jacket; velvet waistcoat; a wide brimmed hat; hob nailed boots and carrying a huge vintage alpenstock. Determined that he was photogenic I approached him to ask if he would pose for me. I asked him if he spoke English. "Yes, I do" he replied in a very well spoken manner. I then realised that he was none other than Chris Bonnington.
He was on his way to the Grepon with a film crew to make a film of Mummery's ascent.
I have the picture somewhere in my archives and I'll upload it when I can find it
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I once arrived at Grimspound on Dartmoor, on a cool foggy day and could hear strange chanting. The whole pound was surrounded by, what I assume were modern druid types. I walked past into the center of the pound where two folk were lying in the little stone area. I left the same way I came in. Harmless but weird in the fog.
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In 2015 on the GR10 in France, I'd met a couple of people and we were approaching the large village of Loudonville. It had rained that morning and we had to walk downhill for a while on a smooth and wet tarmac zig-zag road. Suddenly we heard a crash behind us, a middle-aged male cyclist in full Lycra gear had taken a corner too fast and had spread himself and his expensive racing bike all over the road.
We rushed back to help him, he didn't look too pretty but he brushed us aside. He grabbed for his mobile phone and phoned his wife to collect him, she was down in the village waiting for him. He was a bit bloody, in some pain and he was embarrassed as well.
She soon appeared in their Volkswagon motor caravan, they were on holiday from Ireland. She told us that her husband wasn't really a cyclist, it was their routine that she would drive him and bike up to the top of a Col and she would then drive back to their agreed meeting place. He, in Lycra and on bike would then freewheel down the road. He liked to relive moments from the Tour de France, but only the downhill sections!
Loved that one!
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I have had a couple of encounters with military aircraft, that are probably not that uncommon, but seem very odd at the timeMy wife and I were walking from the summit of Whiteless Pike on the way to Grasmoor. Two jets passed so low over us that we felt the need to duck. They then descended into the valley so that we could look down on them.On another occasion I was scrambling up a steep section of Pen Yr Ole Wen and nearly jumped out of my skin and off the rock face when two jets suddenly roared along the A5 below me. Fortunately, I had four points of contact at the time.
Driving along the road above Garrigill towards Cow Green Reservoir in my bright white shiny car, two very loud jets came low over the hill straight for me! F-35 Lightenings, believe it was before RAF got their hands on them! Using me as target practice!!
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On the Wolds Way I was approaching the Church in the deserted village of Wharram Percy when I heard music. I thought it must be my ears. It turned out to be a couple in the Church one playing the flute; lovely it was too.
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Walking outside Zennor earlier today and came across a well endowed ladies bra lying right on the path in the middle of nowhere. No camping spots nearby so unsure how it could have been left behind by accident.
Willing to return it provided ownership can be confirmed Cinderella style :D
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Here's the pic I mentioned earlier: (https://i.ibb.co/G3vYt6H/chrisbon02.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)
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Liked the bit about the lady's bra......I've never seen a man's bra. Have you?
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Liked the bit about the lady's bra......I've never seen a man's bra. Have you?
Well, i was assuming she was a lady, but leaving such articles on the footpath i could be mistaken.
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Liked the bit about the lady's bra......I've never seen a man's bra. Have you?
There are some men who could benefit from such
An unexplored market?
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There are some men who could benefit from such
An unexplored market?
I bet you underestimate the weird corners of the internet but I'll let you be the one to google it and report back.
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I bet you underestimate the weird corners of the internet but I'll let you be the one to google it and report back.
I rather wish I'd not accepted that challenge :-/
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In 2015 on the GR10 in France, I'd met a couple of people and we were approaching the large village of Loudonville. It had rained that morning and we had to walk downhill for a while on a smooth and wet tarmac zig-zag road. Suddenly we heard a crash behind us, a middle-aged male cyclist in full Lycra gear had taken a corner too fast and had spread himself and his expensive racing bike all over the road.
We rushed back to help him, he didn't look too pretty but he brushed us aside. He grabbed for his mobile phone and phoned his wife to collect him, she was down in the village waiting for him. He was a bit bloody, in some pain and he was embarrassed as well.
She soon appeared in their Volkswagon motor caravan, they were on holiday from Ireland. She told us that her husband wasn't really a cyclist, it was their routine that she would drive him and bike up to the top of a Col and she would then drive back to their agreed meeting place. He, in Lycra and on bike would then freewheel down the road. He liked to relive moments from the Tour de France, but only the downhill sections!
did you call him Stephen Rouge, instead of Roche, though it was the Scottish Robert Miller that liked to fall off.
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I rather wish I'd not accepted that challenge :-/
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
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A couple of years ago I was walking along the old Whitby - Scarborough railway & came across a guy dressed as a Leprechaun. He was sitting at the side of the track playing a penny whistle and as I passed, he paused and we wished each other 'good morning' before I continued on my way.
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I once saw someone who'd parked in a quiet layby and was playing the saxophone just over the stile in the adjoining field. I presume he'd gone there to practice so he didn't disturb anyone.
I also passed a model and photographer doing a nude photoshoot.
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I once saw someone who'd parked in a quiet layby and was playing the saxophone just over the stile in the adjoining field. I presume he'd gone there to practice so he didn't disturb anyone
This wasn't near Oxford was it? Know someone who used to do this.
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I once saw someone who'd parked in a quiet layby and was playing the saxophone just over the stile in the adjoining field. I presume he'd gone there to practice so he didn't disturb anyone.
I also passed a model and photographer doing a nude photoshoot.
happens every night at Tehidy Woods North car park when the weather is clement.
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This wasn't near Oxford was it? Know someone who used to do this.
It was actually! Just between Didcot and Appleford!
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happens every night at Tehidy Woods North car park when the weather is clement.
Saxophone practice, nude photography or both? ;D
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It was actually! Just between Didcot and Appleford!
That's right on his doorstep!!
Now how do I approach this subject with him.... You've appeared on 'odd experiences'!
Then again he'll be thrilled, I'll ask him!
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Booga I sent my saxophone playing friend a message asking if he knew who this could be. Non-committal reply, so I guess it was him!
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Booga I sent my saxophone playing friend a message asking if he knew who this could be. Non-committal reply, so I guess it was him!
Brilliant! It's a small world! :)
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All this talk of wood wind instruments reminds me I once saw a guy playing a didgeridoo, on top of Stow hill, on Bodmin moor. Now that was an odd sight and sound.