Posts Tagged ‘Reflections’

Corona Chronicles Five: NEW EXPLORATIONS

Arrival on Skye

There is some good TV on this morning. I’ve just watch the climbing of the Cioch on Skye, in the manner of Collie and Mackenzie, who pioneered the first route in 1906. (Coast on BBC2) I am in awe that anyone could venture on rock in such clothing and with nailed boots. This opened into an exploration into some of our climbing guidebooks. I can visualise many hours being filled in the future weeks exploring these guides and drifting into reliving memories and friendships.

Alongside the Scottish guides was an aged climbing guide to Malta. Ian and I ventured there after he came across a late 1940’s guide, that had been his uncle’s. It had instructions like “climb from the plane’s wheel to the Spitfire engine” – both humorous and sobering. I wish I could find that booklet. So many memories tied up on the book shelves … and some people wonder why I love books.

Books and Maps

…. and I’m now watching a programme about a research plot of daffodils in the Brecon Beacons. (A to Z of TV Gardening on BBC2) A liquid is being extracted which can probably delay the development of Alzheimer’s. Amazing! Warning – do not liquidise your own daffs – this is being researched, trialed and prescribed under strict medical research conditions.

I’ve just made a discovery. I was enjoying my late breakfast/elevensees of apple and yoghurt and sprinkled some rice crisps on the yoghurt and it DIDN’T snap, crackle and pop! The things you can discover right here in the house.

The Garden, March, 2020

It’s time to go out past the tulips and wallflowers to the rowing machine. Today I’m feeling mere energised, although my knee is playing up. I’m hoping to try to make up the distance that I missed out on yesterday. In my mind I’m heading along the shore, still on my way to Southampton Water. It’s a beautiful sunny day, so I’m hoping the going will be easier, provided that my volunteer cox and the fishing friend don’t slow me up too much. It is so good to get feedback from friends, who are reading this blog. Thanks. it raises my spirits and I hope this will raise yours.

Solent Gull

Take Three Photos

The Pyrenees

I was in my late 20s. I was fit. I had climbed in the Alps and wintered in Scotland’s Cairngorms. I had been caving for ten years mainly on the Mendips but also in Yorkshire and South Wales. I was on expedition to Grotte Casteret, near Gavarnie, in the Pyrenees. This photo was taken just by the Refuge de la Brèche de Roland on the way back down to the minibus. I was becoming interested in the historical aspects of places, travellers and explorers. 

I was a reluctant outdoor leader/ instructor, preferring to act as a back up, rather than lead. I had the experience and expertise to take responsibility and was beginning to gather a plethora of certificates, evidencing my abilities. I was beginning to develop an interest in the variety of approaches and strands of outdoor learning. 

The Grotte Casteret expedition stands out because I was travelling in a group I did not know particularly well and I was forced to change my role in a group. I had made assumptions that fellow group members were technically competent for the terrain, and that I could be a happy follower. However, when, to avoid a wired path, they had descended a glacier, I became concerned. This meant that they had to ascend a wall of the glacier and cross the bergschrund to reach the cave. I had the skills and experience and pushed myself to the fore. I coached them in using an ice axe, sorted out a crossing point from the glacier to the rocks and set up the safety ropes, belaying people across the gap and over the loose moraine. I had take on a leadership role as my confidence in my technical and group work skills became apparent to the rest of the group.

This was pivotal in re-thinking my career away from teaching to a career in which I could share my enthusiasm for the outdoors. I became a youth worker, with the luxury of developing outdoor activities with the young people and fellow youth workers.


I was in my late 40s. I was fit. I had spent numerous winters in Scotland. I continued to cave regularly. I had an interest in sea kayaking, mainly off the coasts of Hampshire, Dorset and Cornwall and on numerous occasions had pushed myself well outside my comfort zone. I had also developed a passion for cross-country skiing, spending time each year in North America, Scandinavia, Scotland or the Alps. I was on a expedition to Stok Kangri, in Ladakh. My travels were drawing me to an interest in the impact the culture of the place on activity. I had evolved into an outdoor leader / instructor taking young people and adults caving and hill walking. My real enthusiasm was for working with groups of women who had not had the opportunity to experience being in the outdoors, questioning issues related to access and equality. 

The Stok Kangri expedition came at another time of change. I was the only woman in a group of people I had walked and climber with for twenty years. It had become a friendship group. We recognized that we had been in some tricky situations and an ethic of mutual care. Here, I was outside my comfort zone. I struggled with the altitude and dehydration. as well as the physical challenge. For the first time ever, I “hit the wall”. I felt that the guides and sherpas saw me, a middle-aged woman, as a bit of an oddity. I was certainly not slender and rippling with muscles. For the first time, I seriously began to question my levels of fitness. However, I loved being in the mountains and observing everyday life – the ways in which spiritual and ecological connections with the landscape seemed to permeate all activities, from the positioning of toilets to the blessing of food. Outdoor activity was not in a silo. The potential breadth of outdoor learning that was striking me. I also recognized the privilege of being amongst a group of tried and tested friends.

On my return, I embarked on a course in magazine journalism. Our first assignment was to write an article about a fellow student. I was “outed” as a middle-aged extreme sportswoman. The thought of being seen as an extreme sportswoman challenged my self-concept. As a result of the expedition and the course, I developed my self-employment to encompass writing with outdoor learning and to focus on challenging stereotypes.


I was in my late 60s. The ravages of long descents with ludicrous rucsacs and the impact of injuries were taking their toll. I had become interested in photography and painting and making aesthetic responses to place. Here, I was just outside Disco Bay, Greenland. A Greenlandic guide had entreated us to understand how rising temperatures were impacting on the ecology of his landscape. We had previously visited a summer school where local children and Danish incomers were experiencing aspects of the indigenous culture of the place, in the hope that it would not die out. I hoped I was becoming a possible catalyst for change, both on a personal level through my art and talking about what had prompted it, and more widely through my writing and speaking at events. 

The Greenland trip was one of the first times that I had become clearer about the ultimate purpose of outdoor learning. It is so much more than making a superficial connection with the environment. It has direct links with the future of our planet and the sustainable use of our resources. Instead of talking about development, why do we not consider consolidation, and a slower more reflective and responsive pace of life?

I continue to challenge stereotypes. I am interested in how our relationships with the environment may change as we become older. For me, being connected to the outdoors is as important as it ever was. It is who I am. It is more than a part of my self-concept. Being an outdoor person is my entirety. It permeates my total life. 

Passionate about the outdoors, I continue as a Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Expedition assessor. This gives me an opportunity to spend time alone in nature, as I wait for the next group to arrive. Being alone in nature is important to me. It is my thinking and marvelling space.

…. And I am still bemused that some friends continue to see me as an extreme sportswoman, even if now slightly battered and tarnished and awaiting artificial joints!

Making Memories – A Short Winter Break in the Brecon Beacons

As an outdoor person, many of my memories have been made in the outdoors. Looking back over images transports me to the emotions of the time.

By looking at other people’s captured memories, I can relate to my own experiences and once again get in touch with the ‘feelings’ aspects of being in the outdoors.