Walking, Charity and Trips Home

It’s the 24th May, I have only posted twice so far this month. Ruining my averages, because we are all stat monkeys really, there are reasons of course, travelling, walking, working. I’m back now though and have a window of opportunity to catch up with what’s been going on. We went back to the UK for a week, visits and birthday walking weekends, more of that soon. We finally gave up on our car and got a newer one. Cheaper than we thought more like a car than a van, and everything works. Our old one had a secret mind of its own. Windows opened randomly, doors locked and unlocked at will, ignition lock not working at all. So it has gone to the carshop in the sky. We’ll miss her, we’ve done some miles with her, seen some sights. Ah well, life goes on.

On to Charity, my next big walking weekend will be in July, the Welsh Three Thousand Feet Peaks. Over two/three days, wild camping. For the Grandson of some very good friends. Ollie and his family are raising money for a new wheelchair, information can be found here: Ollie Crawshaw – JustGiving site. Any help will be appreciated, thanks. The walk is 24 miles long and takes in the 14 peaks over three thousand feet high in Northern Wales. Pete, the birthday boy, will be attempting the challenge in one big hit with another fit friend. I’ll put more details up as the day approaches. I will be going over the weekend of 20-21-22 July.

While back in England I took the opportunity to go walking in the Lake District, Pete’s 50th Birthday weekend. He won’t mind me mentioning his age, nothing else was mentioned all weekend. Leaving Friday night we arrived near Kendal and our little rented cottage about 11pm. The following morning we headed west to Wastwater. Not to climb Scafell Pike as we have done on many other occasions, this time we turned west again at the lakes head and went with the Mosedale round. Black Sail Pass, Pile of Stones, Pillar, Red Pike, as hoped the weather cleared as we walked and we had splendid views all around the route.

I have to say my favourite was Pile of Stones, how can you not like a name like that?

Wastwater with Scafell in the background.

Clouds on the hill

Looking up the Mosedale Valley

Team Photo, almost normal?

Looking back, Yewbarrow to the right.

Yep, a Pile of Stones.

Looking across to Scafell Pike.

Somebody always stands on the edge! Pile of Stones.

Then someone else has to try.

Pillar summit.

Party Hats, False moustaches, Champagne and Butcombe beer. Happy Birthday

A Friend who carries Butcombe beer is a friend indeed!

The view down from Pillar.

Looking back across the Wind Gap from Black Crags.

Towards Red Pike, the others walking lower down.

Get the kettle on.

Red Pike Cairn.

Yewbarrow

We slid round the side of Yewbarrow, as time was getting on and we couldn’t see a route from the bottom. Maybe when we have a bit more time we can explore and find the route up. A good walk with lots to offer, and the views we had were magnificent. Anyone who has been to the Lakes will know how often (or not) you get weather like this for the day. 10 miles and 1300m of ascent roughly speaking. Next post will cover the walk we did around Sleddale. Now just to see if Pete reads all of this post, here you are Pete. How Old?

Pete, in his party T-shirt, hogging all the food. 50! How old?

Between Places

Between Here and There.

There is a moment in any journey when you are poised, exactly between the place you left and the place you are going. This is not a halfway point. It is your state of mind on the road.

I am immersed in bathroom building, literally. French plumbing has evolved to the point of lunacy, tube sizes are 22,18,16,14,12,10 and possibly 8mm, outside diameter, they also give the internal diameter, or not, or a variety of either. There are many types of fittings, olive joints, flat screw together joints, soldered joints, and a tool for expanding pipes to join them together. One joint will not naturally fit with another. Adaptors are random and may not make the leap between sizes or joint types, meaning extra adaptors to make the crossovers. With the price of copper as it is, nothing is taken out that can be used. I hate it. It leaks, it’s complicated, and its takes time to find a merchant who has what you want, because they seem to have some sort of trade agreement precluding one shop from having everything you need. And I haven’t even started the tiling yet. I have rebuilt the walls, and am starting on the floor. I hope the leaks are really gone, they can’t be seen now, so at least I have a weeks grace before the water gets through the floor!

Pipes and stuff, nearly ready to be hidden.

Hidden

All this leads to where we are going with this post. I am at the point in this particular journey where, it seems that lots of time has been spent, along with a reasonable amount of money. To reach a place we started from nearly three weeks ago. Isn’t that just how it works, in life, writing, and building, it is all the stuff you don’t see. The preparation, the learning how, the rewriting, (and hiding the evidence) that makes it work in the end.




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The weather all over the UK has been terrible, rain crashing in. Makes me glad that I’m in France, we enjoyed a meal on the terrace with friends last night. Then sat out watching the stars, chatting and relaxing with a glass of wine into the evening. So this poem is for friends in England being swept away.

River.

Sometimes there is just too much
and the water can no longer be held back.
It spreads further than intended,
into fields and woods once thought safe.
We look on, but the banks have burst,
washing through the carefully ploughed fields,
carrying so much good soil away.




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Happy travelling.

Landmarks.

Last night my blog passed a milestone. At the end of the month I have had more visits than the entire last year. I’m quite pleased with that. A big thank you to everyone who has kept visiting to see what I am doing.

I would send everyone an award, but that would be impractical, so instead, I salute you. All I hope is that you keep coming back.




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After a landmark, the sea. Trying out some short lines, that I hope will become more as time goes on.

To the sea

Shoreline.

On the beach, the wave
runs fingers through the sand.
A passion that draws us close,
the sea and shore dancing.

Gardens and Bathrooms

I have a theory that WordPress looks at titles and grades them as good, bad and indifferent. I think I may try to Jazz mine up sometime, maybe. I am approaching a milestone in this years writing. It’s only April and I am just 56 hits away from all of last years total, woo hoo.

I’m writing something for a friend at the moment, they will probably read this. Its been interesting looking at what I think they want from a piece of poetry. Something simple, open, biographical? I have a piece of work that is still progressing through the fight. But a question occurred to me of how much we see and know of those around us, especially our friends. I have taken an idea and gone about my business to give them something that I feel works for them and me. But what if I miss the mark? This will be a new horizon. Writing to something that someone else has an idea about. And I have taken it and written.

In my notes, I have under the heading of perception “What can I write about you, that is not of me?” That set the cat loose so to speak. Version five is well under way, My wife thinks I am overdoing the rewriting. I won’t know until I pass this to its intended. I’ll let you know how that goes.

Back though to my title, gardens, Saturday and the forecast here was for heavy rain from the south. Not a usual direction for here in the Auvergne, we get Northerly or westerly wind. But the Jet-stream has shifted. Two days ago we got sand laden rain from Africa, the car now needs cleaning, not my strong point. Today was a warm gusty wind, so I got out and hit the garden hard. Those Dandelions and Nettles never stood a chance, I then chopped wood for the fire, pandering to my male sense of providing for the family. The French say wood heats you three times, once when you cut down the tree, once when you chop the wood, then finally when you burn it. I would add that it also works when you move it about. We have to get the design for our garden sorted. I haven’t hunted anything to death yet though to put food on the table. Instead this week I am bathroom building for a friend and neighbour, I hate plumbing. Electricity is fine, if you make a mistake, BANG! Fuse, shock, smoke, maybe a burn or two. Water, leak, goes everywhere. Ruins everything, you don’t find puddles of electrons running out of a plug socket do you? Much easier in my mind, it’s my own fault, for being able to do DIY. I still hate plumbing.

Self Portrait

What I want is a garden that doesn’t keep going all the time, I want a moment when I can press pause. To stop it as it is and enjoy it without having to hack about cutting and bashing and not sitting enjoying the view. I have resigned myself to the fact I will not be allowed to Astroturf the garden and use plastic flowers. I thought it was a good idea.

Fluffy weeds, before the strimmer

Dandelions

Finally, another short poem. For anyone struggling to get out.

Inside.

I have the answers
to your questions, the snappy
comeback, the last laugh.

More from the journey of a lifetime soon.

Ferry Crossing

A short first draft of last weeks notes on our ferry crossing of the channel

Crossing

Land fades,
we move on,
waiting – but not.
Slow time,
slow low light lost in the storm,

Pacing that sways with the wind and lowering cloud,
empties across the waves
between flashes of sunset.
Light in shadow with no sense of the passing sun
spilling from windows,
spreading over white windswept tops,
cut off before anything more is made of them.

A page turning movement
across the channel.