Something to look forward to...

So this time last year I was dressed as a Lion "running" (stumbling) fifteen miles across country to raise money for BBC Children in Need. Today the only running done has been from sofa to toilet as manflu transmogrified to some sort of winter DV bug. As the apprentice kept himself awake most of sunday monday tuesday night by coughing himself silly we decided enough was enough and phoned the Doc. Thanks to having a well funded and smoothly run NHS our infant who had not slept for three nights and who was just exhausted from coughing fits was rushed through the appointment list and got to see a nice understanding medic at 9.45 this morning, except he didn't. Due to high demand on their time we finally crossed the threshold of the consulting room at 10.35. In the meantime yours truly had to keep unwell child occupied in busy waiting room full of scowling geriatrics who all felt their need was far greater than anyone else's. Thus we ran the gauntlet of UTC's, or Unexpected Toddler Comments. The opener of "Why is everyone so QUIET DADDY!" was innocuous enough, as were repeated requests for the toilet (its the latest game, check out the toilet facilities wherever we are as many times as possible) a real cringer of "I've just done a massive pooh!" was lost amongst the klaxon going to alert another patient that their time was nigh, but the one everyone heard was "Look Daddy, that man's a really big giant man LOOK!" (child runs forward at this stage and points to a man some 7 foot tall) Thankfully giant man had sense of humour and I ushered the apprentice into the docs room before he succumbed to any more patient tourettes.
Inside, bad news. Having given the doc the history of endless coughs and colds, runny noses, DV, few days grace, then repeat doc says. This is normal. Apparently a child of the apprentices age can expect on average to be ill from cold like symptoms for some 21 weeks a year until the age of about 7 years old. The luckless parent can expect to pick up two thirds of these bugs brought back from play groups and school and so should expect to feel unwell for some 15 weeks a year. So in other words the doc was saying man up you two and get used to it as being ill is something to look forward to. Obviously.

Where are we?

 Once Mrs Bear was settled at Rock HQ, and to see how settled turn to the dog blog in the margin, yours truly dragged his reluctant self out into the early  doors of last fridayness and did about a weeks worth of jobs which included packing for a weekend away at Centre Parcs. Admittedly for me this entailed toothbrush, single malt, outdoor fitness and cycling magazines and spare boxers. For my beautiful and oh so patient wife this meant a tad more but my excuse was genetic deficit meant I am ill suited to pack for family hols. Hence yours truly shut outdoors sorting critters out until time to hand over their care, including new Berner, to our everso accommodating housesitter.

 Soon (read after 6 hour nightmare traffic horrendous weather car journey) we were in the winter wonderland of Sherwood Forest where magic trees and freak weather kept the apprentice very entertained.

 As did the magic animals. Lil Bef joined us and soon all of us were making most of the facilities of one of the UK's premier activity holiday villages. Running, cycling, racquet sports, mountain biking, spinning, walking, climbing, swimming in the sub tropical paradise, were to name but a few of  the activities we managed to steadfastly avoid for almost all the weekend thanks to all of us coming down with lergy. Huddled under the duvet on the sofa (naturally being a bloke I was the really ill one) the only thing running about me was my nose. There were some high points (fuelled by co-codamol, cold cure and one of speysides finest) such as a trip to see a jolly fat bloke dressed in red and his elf helpers. This was indeed a great and memorable family moment, the apprentice stole the show by interviewing the big Father Christmas and then took to heart his advice of puddle jumping all the way back to the villa. Cheers Santa. Of the 72 hours or so resident at this mecca to sporting life I managed a 27 minute burst of exercise which in no way allowed me to consume as much chocolate as I could reach whilst feeling sorry for my self prone on the sofa.
Back at the ranch the lergy continued, the drawbridge to the outside world was lifted, crosses painted on doors to warn off unwary callers and we waited to get better. Some of us are still waiting but I had to man up and get outside today to take Bear (our Bear, the one we got back from Ireland) to the V E T.

 My departure coincided with the first dry spell since Monday night. So here is an opportune pic of the Pea Hen Mrs Laurel and her offspring which are now nearly as big as she is and are not featuring on any exotic Christmas menu, unlike the Kangaroo steaks found in the freezer section of a local German supermarket.

Bear is doing great. Here he is beside himself with excitement after being told by the specialist V E T that surgery would not be a good idea at this stage. Had he been the more active type, like his litter brother Spotty (aka action berner) then a new knee would have been created for him where he would not need a crutiate ligament, but as he is like this except when eating or doing what Bears do in the woods then it was felt as being a pointless exercise. So a new way has been found, some series of injections that will mean he should grow new cartilage. Or not. If he does we should see him back to his old self of....erm....couch potato grand master.

Living the dream

 This is Tina and Mark with Bear. Tina and Mark are about to do what you or I cannot do, they are ditching the 9 to 5 with suitable ties and heading off across the Atlantic in a massive yacht (massive is subjective, not massive compared to an oil tanker but uber massive compared to the Drascombes I sailed from Portsmouth which is where they are currently berthed) and are intending to go around the world. Now despite having a life jacket Bear is not a sea dog and did not like the prospects of a life on the ocean wave so has opted to come back to the clan for the time being (estimated 2 years, depending on how hard the wind blows) and is now an official foster dog within the Dolyhir Clan.

 Bear got quite excited in Gerry re-enacting a scene from The Shining at one point.

Back at HQ Bear met her mum and dad, Rocky and Reba, and Bear her older brother, we kept the rest of the clan seperate from her on her first night but she briefly met Spotty, Bliss, Ritchie and WooZah and the pathetic triever Poppy. As can be gleaned from the above picture she is making herself very at home. Thats her sat watching the news with me on the sofa. This is unusual as I have actually got a space on the sofa.

Gimme some!

 

Double celebrations at Rock HQ today. Supergrandma's birthday tea was interrupted by messages from he who cannot be named who has had his commission serving Big Liz extended to 2028 giving him some job security providing no one shoots at him. The moment was lost on his littlest brother who just wanted to get amongst the pizza.

Fair share

Alana making sure she gets her fair share of the breakfast bales.

You know what to do!

Ok!
So I bust my gate down.
What you gonna do about it fat bloke?
Yeah that's right, go and get the baler twine!


Misty, a pint sized shitland with Tina Turner hairdo and bad attitude, adding to the jobs list after some modifications to her stall.

Don't look down

 There was one point today when yours truly thought he had accidentally deleted all the pictures and videos of yesterdays adventure. I had downloaded the files onto the PC to take the camera out to capture some real animal stupidity occurring on the runway between the equines and goat. Thankfully the technology is cleverer than its owner and I have just found a new folder containing all the pics. So here are some more of yesterdays epic over Crib Goch in horrendous conditions. Still pics wont convey windspeed, facial expressions and body language might. So here above is part of the approach, it got a bit steep.

 The Ridge stretching out into the mist, I am in the lead, Richard is getting ready to movc.

 John upright wondering what all the fuss is about.

 This mainly, the drop to our right is a bit on the non survivable type of fall.

 So if you are going to fall favour the left, this is the view to my rear.

 To my front is the exit, over these pinnacles of rock, by the time we got here there were gusts of wind in excess of 70 mph.

 To my left the way down was a bit impossible.

Clearly we made it, here's Richard sheltering from the wind behind the obelisk that marks the top of the Pyg track.

How windy was it? Well if you watch this clip you will see Richard blown off his feet.
Then the rain started.

Comfort Zone Tested

 There was a time when yours truly was a bit of a mountain leader but time passes, pies get eaten, left arms get damaged and skills fade. So for a while now I have been wondering whether I could still do a proper scramble like Crib Goch so a man test was devised for today.

 A team of four assembled for the day, yours truly, John (who has a long history of dangling me, being dangled by me, from a rope) and Keith and Richard who had no idea what they were letting themselves in for. Some indication came when Richard noted that I was giving a safety briefing, a first. The last time I did this ridge was with he who cannot be named and his lil sister in 2001. John and I last climbed together in the mid to late 1990's. Keith and Richard have never really climbed and as Richard truthfully explained had there been any choice in the matter he probably wouldn't have. The car park was full so that added another mile to the approach but we made good time to the base of the days objective. Now we had a weather window forecast, unfortunately the small gods of wind, clouds and rain had not heard this and the above pic is about as clear as it was ever going to be. The wind was pretty strong, and gaining speed so the ridge had to be done quickly. But as we were clinging on for dear life, speed was not an option.

 This is the start of tricky bit, Keith contemplating the Crib Goch bum shuffle at this point while yours truly at the front takes advantage of a drop in wind speed to gain a few strides. The pics don't show the sheer drops or the scale of the place. It was as I remembered, arse clenchingly exciting, a challenge and once over, great fun. Once we decended to the saddle between us and the next summit Garnedd Ugain. This was not as easy as it should have been as the wind was by now strong enough to blow us off our feet. One gust knocked all four of us over at the same time which was quite exciting as Richard was posing on a ledge to have his picture taken at the time.

 The summit bagged we were blown in the direction of Snowdon, the disappointment of the cafe being shut for winter eased by the knowledge that it was pretty much downhill from here.

 By 3.30pm the weather changed again from hard rain to torrential rain and the get down as fast as possible mode was selected. Finally we recovered Gerry from the layby, clambered in with soaked gear and sped off to the cafe where we had breakfast 8 hours earlier. All of us ignored the funny loks from customers and stripped and  changed into dry clothing in the cafe entrance, and once warmed by hot drinks we departed the mountains to the best fish and chip shop in the whole world, Keiths in Llangollen.

 Richard was the first to get amongst the hot food

and I had the local delicacy, mushy pea fritters. Fuelled by battered consumables and Vimto I piloted Gerry back to Rock HQ. A grand day out, many thanks to my companions for the banter and encouragement. It was good to get outdoors, even if it was the worst ever weather for the ridge crossing and summiting.

More pics and video clips will follow. But for now its time for some serious Zeds.