The possibility of unperceived existence

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Well Montague in the white vest thinks she head something but since she didn’t see it she’s not sure what to make of it.
Giles didn’t hear a thing, she’s too busy trying to identify the species of ladyburd she’s found on the bracken. There’s no use peering at like that, wear your glasses, there’s no shame it. It happens to the best of us.

Anyway. I’ll take pointless philosophy by it’s smug sideburns and plant some trees in this recently unfrequented vitual forest of random nonsense. After lunch.

treegurls

June 11th, 2014 by PTC* | No Comments »

No Feelings

This was recorded back in 2012 for a tribute album where all the tracks from the Sex Pistols’ Never Mind The Bollocks were covered in a diverse bunch of styles.
The project dragged on and ground to a halt inches from the finish line and it looks like it’ll never get released.
So here’s my rewrite of No Feelings. It’s far too long because I kept all the original lyrics, it probably needed a bit more work, especially on the mix, but for a handful of hours in the studio by me and my mate Craig who played the drums on it, it’s a nice wee bit of fun.
Bonus points for anyone that makes it to the psychedelic bit.

June 1st, 2014 by PTC* | 3 Comments »

Less is also less. More or less.

It’s been busy one way or another. Where the hell have the last two weeks gone? Some of it was in Glen Affric which was, well, hurried. But I’ll get to that soon. We had an epic day at the Lang Craigs with the final community tree planting day and two family members in hospital. One of whom is still there with a new knee having been applied.

Maybe it’s age that makes time slip away from me, maybe it’s just piss poor application to the tasks in hand.
Still, I’d rather be confused than running under capacity.

This was the first face I saw at work today. Can’t beat a Monday morning smile.

skull 1

May 19th, 2014 by PTC* | No Comments »

Less Is More – Part 1

I was supposed to be heading to Sweden for Haglöfs 100th anniversary celebrations but some family stuff came up at the same time and the trip got canned. But talking to Gus brought about a sort of  consolation idea, we’d head out with a bunch of new season Haglöfs kit to test, have a bit of a laugh and take some photies.
I was heading to Skye anyway, it all seemed like a good fit. I’ve known Gus for years and for all the outdoor talk and gear we’d never managed onto a hill. Good plan, easy and straightforward.
Ha.

In the run up to the trip the weather looked good for Sunday – Monday – Tuesday with some last minute doubts over Tuesday. So, with little or no thought as to the consequences, a Sunday start was decided upon. Gus was at the Highlander race based at Glenfinnan all weekend and that was where I headed. Mallaig is not too far up the road, getting the ferry across to Skye would save time. fuel and be fun.
The road up was slow, the strange human subspecies of folk that only drive their cars during holiday weekends still lurked around every corner from the easter break, eager to find a burrow to hide in until the next bank holiday, but dangerous when cornered too, so quite likely to unleash an unpredictable attack of swerving or sudden braking causing chaos and mayhem.
However, the skies cleared as I went north and by Ft Bill it was glorious. I stopped off for some camp food and headed up to Glenfinnan.

I parked at the race village with the confidence of someone who was supposed to be there or didn’t know that they weren’t supposed to be there and wandered down to the finish line to see what was happening. The winners were in, you could tell that by the amount of limping skinny people around and bless them all I say. I know the hills beyond well and tackling the slopes at any time can be a task, but chasing a prize while the sun was beating down and ticks are chewing at your ankles deserves our consideration.
I shot the breeze with some familiar faces while working on a venison burger and the prizes were awarded. The local laird was one of the speakers at the prize giving, I’ve met him a couple of times and he’s a proper character, all tweedy and Victorian but cheery and seems to have a realistic and forward thinking approach to the land and it’s various uses by “them and us”.

There was no pressure, but an eye cast on my watch said that time was getting on. I decided to shoot up to Mallaig and sort out the ferry, phone back down the road and take it from there.
The road up does its job. The old single track horrorama is gone and replaced by a fast but largely bland thoroughfare that misses out all the lovely spots at Arisaig and Morar. However, it gets you to the picturesque hamlet of Mallaig in good time. I kept a straight face there, where’s my cheque Visit Scotland?
I went to the ferry office where the folks were all dead helpful and booked us onto the next and last ferry which left at 6. It was well after 5. Hmm.
I shot back to the car park and phoned Gus. He was standing hands in pockets in the sunshine gabbing with the teams and whatnot.
Ah He said.
Indeed I replied.
I’ll leave now.
I’ll be ready.
I unpacked the £100 Ka (I love this car, it is the mountain rollerskate of ultimate joy) and stood on a rock at the seafront counting down the minutes and watching for Gus. I talked to the girls which distracted me, as did the stunning views, but when I looked back at my watch it was leaving quarter to six. I texted Gus 15… 14… 13… I know he knew the time, I just wanted to share the stress a little.

Five-to he shot into view and then into the car park. Hysterical giggling took over as we crammed my kit into the car and raced for the ferry. The same young fella from earlier was waiting for us at the still open ramp. He smiled at my distress as I just handed him the sheaf of tickets and looked helpless. We parked up, the ramp closed and we laughed away the cold sweat as we climbed up to the rather nice lounge for the half hour sail across the Sound of Sleat.
Hearts beat slower as the boat reversed and then leisurely cruised to Armadale. All was well.

The cloud that had been moving in stayed on the mainland as we twisted the slow road towards Broadford. Skye looks very different without pissing rain, wind and cloud. I was enjoying this.
Fuel, sun cream and some extra bits and pieces at the co-op and a quick stop at Sligachan for the views were all that was between us and Glenbrittle campsite, a place where I really must take the girls.

The sun was going down and we still had to pack. I needed a rucksack and clothes as well, so it was all a little improvised, but as Haglöfs sample size large fits me perfectly I just picked the colours that I liked. All of them at the same time. Nice.
The tops above us were burning red and orange as the sun slipped away, how glorious that would have been from the track  to the coire. We compressed, rolled, folded and squashed, then we were ready to go.
The sky and the land had become blue-grey and our rainbow coloured figures worked our way into the middle of it. The going was good on a fine path and the Cuillin although softened by the dusk still presented a dark jagged outline before the rounded bulk of Sron na Ciche and then darkness left us standing alone in a pool of torchlight.

It was here things changed for us. The moonless sky, the hazy memories of the terrain, the GPS at odds with the superior Harvey map and the suddenly steep, loose and rocky terrain, it has us discussing and thinking.
We back/side/downtracked a little and found ourselves on the edge of a huge slab which curved away and down into the darkness. It didn’t seem right, but there was signs of use at its edge where it butted into the crag which rose sheer to our left.
It felt exposed, our two spots of light floated in a darkness where it felt like the light was flowing past our feet into an abyss. I’ve spend a lot of time on night ascents, but this was different.

It was warm and a little waterfall distracted and cooled after the previous ascent on a mineral vein which was the safest apparent route across the another iffy section of polished slab. The glaciers had no thought for future visitors when they carved this place up.
Next in our torchbeams were sheer rock walls streaked by black, water run-off that sprang from nowhere and disappeared back there. It was unnerving. We took our time and looked for routes as best we could in the torchlight.
The rock was good and we clung to it with both hands. The scree slope was invitingly easy looking, but we didn’t want to climb Sgurr Sgumain tonight so we stuck to the rock. It was late, very late and we were getting hungry and tired. Every climb upwards was topped with another wall of rock and route finding problems and the following scramble.
It was fantastic.

There was no question of stopping, no suggestion that we were in trouble, we just bantered away, working through the endless scrambling with the perfect mix of humour and experience. It was clear from the start that Gus was good company on the hill, he’s able, knows his stuff and knows how to laugh.
The last scramble took us to a broken crag with steep scree and the GPS said we were nearly at the loch. We climbed again while the sound of water fell away below us. We stopped and shone into the darkness below. A ribbon of dark grey then a black void beyond. We’d climbed quite high above the loch. Oh, the irony.
We tumbled down the boulder field to the side of Loch Coir a Ghrunnda. It was well past midnight and we were shot, it was time to relax a little and the realities of the time and effort spent getting there overtook us.

We walked the banks of the loch and picked a spot for the night. We found some nice big grooves in the rock to keep us put, we were bivying – it’s no place for a tent up here, and got to unpacking and setting up camp.
It wasn’t too cold, just nice with some light insulation on and a cuppa and some soup was just enough, it was too late for a big dinner. I pitched a tarp over the cooking spot and where our heads were, just for a little extra protection. As clear and windless as it was with stars sparkling above us, you just never know.
We settled down, the sky had lightened, Bloody hell, 3am. Aye, time for bed.
Who knows what the day would bring.

May 4th, 2014 by PTC* | 8 Comments »

Ping!

Timing is everything. The sun was shining all through easter and I wasn’t anywhere near being able to take advantage of it which was a bit frustrating given the nice places I have to be going.
But going out to play ’round the back kept me in a good mood. I’m getting used to the old camera again, it feels a bit clunky and it’s way more contrasty than its replacement at the same settings, but I’m happy enough for now.

That’s Jo my fellow ranger below. We did a bit of extra exploring, the Lang Craigs is only a wee part of the Kilpatricks and it’s good to see it in context with a bit of height and distance. We also saw and heard bats, yes heard, via the magical powers of a bat detector which picks up their wee voices and can be used to unnerve the wary and terrify the nervous.

The other good news is that the weather means I’m back in an outdoor shirt rather than a baselayer. Happy, and more on that at some point.

April 23rd, 2014 by PTC* | 2 Comments »

Paper Plane

The last thing I expected to be doing this week was doing a close orbit around the sun to watch for signs of coronal mass ejection. But, when the phone rings, you have to go. Lucky I took my phone to take some photies out of a porthole, no one would believe me otherwise.

The sun followed me all the way home and it’s been glorious. Had to sit and wait for a truck to come and take away the abandoned and unrepaired hearse (rewind two years or so to see what the hell that’s all about) which has lain in the workshop yard for a long time. There was a little breeze and I sat on a wall and swung my feet as I waited. I can’t remember the last time I did that and I felt stress free and relaxed, time just stopped for a little while.
I’m going to have to make sure I remember how to do that, it did me good.

My bubble soon got burst but I was ready and able for it. Maybe the good things in life aren’t there just to be enjoyed, maybe they’re fuel too.
Alright.

 

April 15th, 2014 by PTC* | No Comments »

Trinity – After You

There’s a lot of music around me just now which is stirring my pal’s memories as well as my own. My buddy Chris posted a couple of old tapes on Facebook from the band I was in 20 years ago – Trinity.
I had a rummage and found a CD of the last thing we done from ’94 – a song called After You. It’s a three piece band and I’m on guitar and vocals. It’s so long ago I just don’t care who hears it now, they were happy days.
Davy, Stevie, I hope you’re well wherever the hell you are.

April 14th, 2014 by PTC* | 2 Comments »

Reverse Parking

I can’t remember that last time I took a shot of the evening sky oot the windae. Old camera, same view and a new set of colours to delight my weary eyes.

Bloody marvellous. Why does a step backwards feel like the right thing to do?

April 14th, 2014 by PTC* | No Comments »

twometresdeep

In a new band. I tried with the rock covers band I really did, but I just can’t do it like folk are expecting me too. I’m on the edge of snapping the entire time, just desperate to play a different chord or use a wah pedal or something. They knew it too. So whether I jumped or was pushed, the splash was just the same.

So, within minutes I had another band, it’s amazing how many musicians there are standing around when you need them. I wonder if the ratio is higher or lower than that of pilots travelling as passengers on board flights with ill crew members. I bet you could get funding to study that.

The band is twometresdeep and the best analogy I could come up with is Joni Mitchell jamming with Black Sabbath. We’ve been writing and arranging which has been with a mix of bits of songs brought in by the various folks and new stuff written as we played.
I am enthused. Normally I work with just my drummer buddy Craig, but this is very different indeed. There’s going to be a very diverse mix of sweet harmonies and acoustic passages to my usual grinding guitar and big beat drums. Real light and dark. I love it.

A couple of short clips from the first sessions. The songs are called one and two, or that one and the other one.

n

 

April 14th, 2014 by PTC* | 11 Comments »

Friends Reunited

So much for the rummaging and posting old photies. Got a couple of wee jobs in during the weeks that kept me busy and then a phone call from AJ Johnstone, they’d fixed my camera in much appreciated queue jumping style.. This is my old camera of course, now my only camera in fact.

It looks like new apart from all the dents, the scrapes, the worn off printing and lettering and all the silver edges that left the factory covered in black paint. The main thing is the lens, which is now as clear as the day it was forged upon the anvil of, I don’t know, what is the ancient Greek or Roman god of quality glass products? In the absence of one I’ll go for Hathor of Ancient Egyptian fame because she looks like she’s got a big lens on her head. Cool. Sekhmet was my second choice. Head of a lion with a big lens on it. Yes please.

So I’m back on track. Skye is now on as soon as the weather looks good after the kit arrives for it and Glen Affric will be back to back with it, or front, most likely back though.
We’re going to be bivying for some of this, maybe with a tarp as well, been ages since I’ve done that stuff.

Onwards. But there’s still time for a couple of recent B-spec photies to get me in the mood.

 

April 13th, 2014 by PTC* | 2 Comments »

Trakke Óg Review

The Trakke Óg has been on my back often these past few months. It quickly became my pack for ranger duties in the Kilpatricks but it also became my man-bag for carrying kit when I was gadding abound. Well, it looks good with technical fabrics and denim. But, it’s not just a pretty face.

The Trakke Krukke is a brilliant pack and the Óg is in many ways its sidekick. I wanted to say henchman there to be honest. It has the same clean lines that are a delight to look at and plunge through trees with and the same simply defined purpose: carrying kit.
It’s the way it carries kit that makes it different and that’s down to fabric and design which something old, something new, something borrowed and something brown – Ventile.

Ventile is a high quality cotton fabric with a weave which swells when wet to make it waterproof, it works, I’ve got Ventile clothing. In the Óg it makes a difference to the weight over the waxed cotton Krukke and it also gives it a softer user-friendly feel. It’s tough though, Ventile is badass, I’m happy scraping this off rock and trees, it’ll be just fine.
It’s a clean design, minimal seams and lidless too – it has a rolltop closure which is something I’ve always liked. Here the fastening is by a webbing reinforced closure and stainless steel buckle. Works great and the closure hold the top of your ice axe, poles or shovel in conjunction with the loop sewn into the base.

The base is a 3D shape, rounded, easy to pack and its rated 18litres volume goes quite far with the closure allowing a wee bit of flexibility. There’s no pocket, the zip you see is for access to a hydration sleeve with runs down the length of the pack. Alec stuck a thin plastic sheet in there when I picked the Óg up at the workshop which added no weight and gave the pack just the right amount of stiffness, so it’s stayed in there and just stop and take my bottle out for a drink. Hey, just like the old days.

The harness, again like the Krukke, is basic and starts to mold to you with use. There’s no chest strap but the more you wear it the more secure the Óg becomes and I don’t miss the chest strap at all. It’s comfortable in the different postures I have on foot and on the bike, not been running though, I was planning for that stuff the past couple of weeks but I keep finding excuses not to. I might come back to that soon.

There’s a 25mm removable webbing waist belt which I do use sometimes, but it’s stability not load bearing, unless it was full of lead shot you couldn’t get enough weight into the Óg  to need a hip belt.

There’s some extra webbing loops and I’ve experimented with these, fitting a couple of compression patches on there to carry extra gear on the front panel. This can work pretty well and I think it’s a realistic option. I’ve had a RaidLight chest pouch attached with no extra fittings too, small packs are just the start of a flexible system, easy to drift away from that notion sometimes.

The Óg is a brilliant bit of kit. It’s well made, thoughtfully designed and a joy to use. The Ventile will age and wear with me, probably slower than me mind you and there’s something natural and human about it that plastic fantastic gear just doesn’t have.

Now, the Óg is made in Glasgow from components sourced as locally as possible and I took the photies somewhere that seems to fit with that just right. I could have done them on a hill, but I took the shots in a Victorian workshop which is now part of the Scottish Maritime Museum.
The work surfaces and tools you see were used to design the ships that launched from Denny’s in Dumbarton and Trakke are continuing that legacy: design – innovate – build – export.
Alright.

April 9th, 2014 by PTC* | No Comments »

Dear Aspiring Artist:

I was flicking through HR Giger’s website and came across the following set of suggestions to aspiring artists in the FAQ section.
I don’t necessarily agree with all of it, but I’m not too far away from a lot of it.

*************

Dear Aspiring Artist:

Here is my advice. Think of it as a five-year plan:

Take whatever courses you find the most interesting.

Study closely the work of the Old Masters.

Stop making art that originates only from your own imagination.

Stay with one technique until you perfect it.

On any given day, always be in the middle of reading a book. When you finish one, start the next. Fiction, nonfiction, biographies, autobiographies, history, science, psychology, or how to build a kite. Anything but go easy on the comic books.

Buy and read the first 6 pages of newspaper every day and also the editorial commentaries. Skip the entertainment section. Su Doku is fine. Do the crossword puzzle.

Fill up a sketchbook every month with pen or pencil drawings of the world around you, not from your imagination.

Buy a book on figure drawing. It’s the only art book you will ever need.

Until you can draw an accurate portrait of someone, you don’t know how to draw.

Stay away from the airbrush. You’ll never master it, hardly anyone ever has.

Visit every museum in your city. Often, until you have seen everything in it. Every kind of museum. Not only the art museums but, of course, those as well.

Forget about contemporary art by living artists, at least for the next few years.

Stay away from most art galleries. Go to art auctions. That’s where the real action is.

Learn to play chess.

Take a business course.

Talk to you mother or father at least once a week.

Stop going to the movies until you have rented and seen every film on this list.

Do not watch television unless it’s the news or documentaries.

Do not use an Ipod.

No video games, either.

Learn a foreign language.

Learn to cook.

Spend 8 hours in a hospital emergency room.

Save up money so you can travel to a foreign country within the next five years.

Do not litter.

Avoid politically correct people.

Vote in every election or never dare to utter a political opinion. You are not entitled to one.

Buy a digital camera and take photos every day.
If you see nothing interesting to photograph, you will never be a good artist. Keep only one photo of every ten you take. Delete the rest. It will force you to learn how to edit the garbage from your life, to make choices, to recognize what has real value and what is superficial.

Visit an old age home.

Listen to classical music and jazz. If you are unable to appreciate it at least as much as contemporary music, you lack the sensitivity to develop into an artist of any real depth.

Go to the ballet. Classical or Modern, it doesn’t matter. It will teach you to appreciate physical grace and the relationship between sound and movement.

Wake up every morning no later than 8 AM, regardless of what time you went to sleep.

Learn to play a musical instrument.

Learn to swim.

Keep your word.

Never explain your art. People who ask you to do so are idiots.

Never explain yourself. Better yet, never do anything that will, later, require you to explain yourself or to say you’re sorry.

Always use spell check.

Stop aspiring and start doing.

This will keep you very busy but it can’t be helped.
In my opinion, this is how you might, possibly, have a shot at becoming a good artist.

Hope this helps,

Les Barany

April 9th, 2014 by PTC* | No Comments »

Not That One

While I have no camera I’ve decided to clean out the laptop files, stick all the old photie folders in safe places and take the load off the bulging filing cabinet under the keyboard. Get myself ready for all the new stuff coming up etc
It being me of course all that’s happened is I’ve found stuff that I like and filed away F/A.
So, the first in a few posts of the recent past revisited, the photies that didn’t fit at the time due to wacky poses, funny faces or the like but make me smile now. At least until I have to pay to get my camera back.

Ben Starav last year was the trip that brought the joy of the hills back to me and looking at it again I feel just the same. A perfect evening and a full memory card to prove it.
Damn, this blog is getting big and fat.
Alright!

7

April 7th, 2014 by PTC* | 3 Comments »

California Jam 6/4/74

Forty years ago today 17 million people descended onto Ontario Motor Speedway in California to see one of the shows that has become a solid gold music legend.
The lineup from breakfast onwards was Rare Earth – Earth, Wind & Fire – The Eagles – Seals & Crofts – Black Oak Arkansas – Black Sabbath – Deep Purple – Emerson, Lake & Palmer.
ELP and Purple were co headliners and this was Purple with David Coverdale and Glenn Hughes. The then new Burn album is a Purple classic but one of the interesting things about the California Jam footage is watching Hughes vocally torch Coverdale every time he step ups to the mic.
Richie Blackmore had a crazy day, trashing gear and allsorts while Keith Emerson spun through the air with his piano. It’s all on youTube and worth seeking out. Black Sabbath were there as special guests and were a bit out of shape having been sitting at home doing coke and mandies for a few months but they played a blinder, even with a clean shaven Tony Iommi.
Those were the days. Let’s hope Hyde Park in July is another one.

PS I know it wasn’t 17 million people.

CJ74a

April 6th, 2014 by PTC* | 3 Comments »

Curse of the Black Spot

I have no camera. The LX5 is a paperweight and the LX3 is in the repair shop getting the black spot taken off its lens. It’s in almost every shot from the Torridon trip in the top right of the frame, I’d hoped it was dust on the sensor, but after a play at home I knew it was the horror of mold inside the lens. Maybe because it was lying in a drawer so long and it’s er, lived a life anyway.
On the LX3 this means a complete strip down, which I’d researched first and was prepared for. Might take a couple of weeks, they’ll do their best.
So, I have no camera. I have one set of photies already done for a review that I can write up and that’s it. I’m looking at something new, but that won’t be til some customers pay me first.

The LX3 was my first digital and first proper camera, so I’m glad it’s coming back, but it feels odd right now not having a camera at all. I’ve got used to all the good stuff it brought with it.
Sigh.

April 5th, 2014 by PTC* | No Comments »

Oscar Marzaroli

Just watched a cracking programme about Oscar Marzaroli on BBC2. His photies are iconic and famous for capturing real life moments in Scotland, I suppose Glasgow in particular, but as the same time elevating the subjects in intangible ways.
OM1Children playing in the street in become a voice for their generation telling tales on life long gone, grinning shipyard welders show relaxed pride and confidence in what they’re doing in an era that’s long since had luxury flats built across it.

His Highland work does what only non-mountain folk can do – show the mountains in a different way. I love that, but all of his work speaks to me in some way. I remember some of what he captured when it was still there, plenty more I remember as stories from parents or grandparents.

Times were hard, aren’t they always, but seeing the community spirit, defiance even in the face of the sweeping changes imposed upon it by successive short sighted local authorities is something to marvel at, admire and maybe wish it was still here before modern town planning destroyed it and the virtual online community moved in to replace it.

It’s good to see the world in black in white sometimes.

April 1st, 2014 by PTC* | 3 Comments »

Kit that broke, kit that didnae, and other stuff before I forget.

While hardly and epic endurance test of equipment, there’s some stuff that deserves a mention.

On my back is a new arrival which is making its first trip, the Boreas Buttermilks 40. I’d seen the press releases, and when I saw it in the courier box I raised an eyebrow as it looks a bit like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle in this colourway. But, when I looked at the detail I was interested, when I loaded it I was pleased and after using it I’m have to stop myself enthusing out of proportion to my experience of the pack.
The Buttermilks felt just right from the off and I’ll come back to it in a wee while once I’m sure. It’s not perfect, this I know already, but still, yes please.

The Alpkit Kraku stove was okay. I like the general design, it’s vulnerable to wind but it’s stable enough in its own right and it’s great for hiding in a pot with a bigger sized gas canister.
Long overdue is the Haglöfs Ulta in Windstoper Softshell. You might think it was the colour that attracted me, the purple never made it to production and the, but it’s actually a brilliant jacket which I’ve worn a lot. Soft with a good stretch, quick drying time and great features and it was perfect in the conditions last week. It’s a cool or cold weather jacket but vents well enough that I can wear it back down to the roadside.
Great pockets, mountain hood, velcro cuffs that push well up my forearms, pitzips, nice. Available in black or blue. Christ.

The trousers are an oddball, sample X-Bionic Mountain Pants that I rediscovered when I was packing. I don’t think they ever made it to the shops, in the UK anyway probably due to the scary price, but they’re brilliant. Great fit, nice tapered legs that don’t flap around and attract mud, clever pockets, fancy rear yoke that keeps your lower back dry and fabric that’s a nice mix of stretch, toughness, breathability and quick drying.
I’m keeping these handy this time.

The Alite Monarch Chair was fun. It was also completely fit for purpose, I could have sat there rocking as the sun set all night. It won’t be right for or taken on every trip, but it’ll be seen a lot, it makes me smile and keeps my arse off the damp ground.

Well seen on here the past few months has been the Berghaus Ramche Hydro Down Jacket. My bright green model has been on every trip and more since November last year and it has indeed been rained on, stuffed, slept it, compressed to death and it’s still getting picked all despite my initial skepticism.
I’ll have a review of the Ramche and the Mount Asgard Hybrid Jacket which Joycee nicked when it came in. These came in for test for the Mournes trip last year, we got them in Celtic and Rangers training top colours.
Yes, there were comments.

The tent deserves a special thought. The Force Ten Helium 100 Carbon was hung out today and I went over the whole thing looking at the damage. The pole broke at one of the joints, a pretty clean snap too, no carbon weave delamination or jagged shards although the force of the wind was enough to push the broken end through the tent sleeve. This damage is nothing though, I wouldn’t even bother fixing it.
Some guys lines were trashed as the end of the tent thrashed around but there was no damage to the tabs on the fly or inner. The same end had a hole ground through the floor where it was over a rock, the constant movement gave it no change. I can get my had through the hole, but it’s fixable.
That’s about it, no fabric tears to burst stitching, although it was straining, some of the taping on the fly has delaminated in areas of no concern, again at the end where all the damage was.
As odd as it might seem, I feel more confident in the Helium seeing how it coped, I’ve got a dozen other tents here that wouldn’t have survived the night. The pole’s been replaced already, I took the aluminium one out of the old Helium and it fit just fine. It’ll be back on the hill at some point.

Plenty more gear coming and the trips to use it. Skye, Glen Affric, a Black Mount traverse, Torridon again, Ben’s Hope, Loyal and Klibreck, the Cairngorms (really), Assynt and some closer to home favourites.
Can’t wait.

 

March 31st, 2014 by PTC* | 4 Comments »