They came to hear the story, They came to sing the song*

Let me hear your battle cry*

Loch Sloidh!

I was sitting with a fresh cuppa and despite an annoying amount of sunlight coming through the window I thinking about video games, it had been a busy and rather stressful week. Holly however was packing her rucksack.
Sometimes you just need a bigger spark when your powder’s damp.

We had talked about taking the stove next time, she was getting into the zone for wild camping and bigger trips so a quick detour to pick up some bits and pieces and we were rumbling north on the A82 again.
The sky was blue from right to left but as we moved onwards, a huge fat pulse of rain rolled slowly across the loch onto Ben Lomond where it seemed to stop dead, both hands round the summit.
We drove into its grey curtain and although the girl was happy enough contemplating a wet walk while sitting in her shiny new test jacket as the windscreen wipers ground the dust across the windscreen and then slung it away along with the fresh rain, I could see it far enough. I’ve paid my weather dues in full, many years ago, I was wanting it to clear up.

Wumph, we drove out the other side, like tripping out of the emergency exit shortcut from the cinema on a summer’s evening (specifically the old ODEON on Glasgow’s Renfield Street, where a manky wee spiral  stairwell took you straight into the alley at the back avoiding the jostle of neds at the proper doors), from dark to light in an instant.
The girl kept humming along to the music, I just grinned wider.

Parked the truck and paid for the pleasure of it at Inveruglas where there were a lot of folk milling around and a closed cafe. Welcome to Scotland, bring a packed lunch. Ah, it’s as true as ever.

Holly’s all about stuff, she loves stuff. I’m glad she applies this to what might appear to be boring stuff to many youngsters: her heritage.
This is Macfarlane country we were in, the name belongs here and because we wear it, we can draw a line though time to put ourselves here, regardless of gaps in our family tree.
Names tie everyone to something, often an occupation, but old Scottish names are very definite on the map. It took me until my late 30’s I think to appreciate this stuff and I happily embrace now, there will be a piper at my funeral playing Flowers of the Forest and MacFarlane’s Gathering. Hell yeah.
So, this was a heritage walk, one we’d talked about for years. We look at the castle every time we pass Inveruglas, but she’d never been to see Loch Sloy, the little loch turned hydro storage tank and the origin of the Macfarlane cry Loch Sloidh!

We took the wee detour through the woods just past the railway bridge, the detour seems to be the main route now, the official “We hate Campers” sign has been posted here.
I fell straight on my face too, the moss slipped off the rock when I put my weight on it and took my foot sideways with it. Idiot. I deserved the sore hip I got.
I walked off the embarrassment and pain, explaining the sheep placenta we found to Holly took my mind off it too. Sheep and lambs became a feature of the day actually. I made have taken a blow to the head in the fall, the sheep began looking er, majestic and I took their photies. Often.

The tarmac makes life easy but the sun beat down on us. meaning the cool breeze wasn’t quite enough to keep us cool. Much rolling up of sleeves and legs took place until we got into the shade on Ben Vane later on.
It’s a glorious wee trek this, been around, through and across the meeting of tracks and trails more times that I can count and I still walk along with my head in the air looking at the tops. I love these hills, steep and rocky but so easy to grab a hold of.

Holly was in her stride now, she wasn’t even noticing the distance or the heat. The bridge ahead looked exciting “That’s the dam, look next to it…” Oh, there’s a cave next to the bridge! “It’s a tunnel, it’s… wait for me…”.

She wasn’t keen on going into the big echoey arch in the dam, besides there were more sheep to see. So nice, today’s sheep. So nice.
Nice top see the former water treatment plant site all cleaned up and blended into the terrain now, the photos I took all through it few years back are suddenly historical. I’ll need to dig them out at some point.

The tunnel was funny, Holly all stiff armed and serious. It was properly dark in there, I broke into a run near the far side and she shrieked and ran out into the daylight. Brilliant.
We picked a spot out of the breeze and unpacked the stove, dinner time. Absolutely perfect.

It was getting late, the light changed and Ben Vorlich took on an evening glow. Still no hurry though, there was exploring to be done.
A wander around the construction areas on the west just slowed us down from the main task, getting across the dam. She had no fear at all, straight on she went, standing on tiptoes to peer over the edge and running onwards to find the next likely looking vantage point.
The dam has grown into the landscape, it’s taken on the look of the rock its anchored too as best it can. The moss growing from the concrete doesn’t know any different.
The low water level currently exposes a bleached strip of beach around the loch, it’s hideous looking, but the dam really isn’t, it’s part of the place now.

On the far side we skipped over the gate and clambered down. Holly was now fearless and every arch was to be explored and tested for echo.
The gated entrance showed quite far into the tunnels under the dam, the lights being conveniently left on. Within a minute of leaving we were already into the story of the Sloy Troll, whose home was destroyed by the dam builders and who now lurks, ready to snare and eat any unwary workman… that’s why the lights are on you see. This story will be coming soon.

The walk out in dimming light was pleasant and punctuated by more frankly awesome sheep. I do hope this fresh ovine appreciation subsides again.

When Holly saw Loch Lomond back within easy reach her energy just went. The pace slowed and we played Guess Who and I-Spy to keep us going.
The sounds of geese reached us before the traffic noise and it wasn’t long before we reached the truck in the now empty car park.

The road was empty and the Stranger Things soundtrack’s retro synth sounds smoothed out the bumps on the way back down the road. Holly was quiet, her eyes closing and flicking back open, dead beat but not ready to let the day go just yet.

Not a bad way to look at life.

*All quoted from Saxon’s “Battle Cry” from the ’86 Rock The Nations album. One of the finest songs written about Scotland and it was written by Yorkshiremen. Bless you.

20YOC Gear: Karrimor Summit & Phantom Gore Tex Shells

For something that probably doesn’t get used in anger as much as our other outdoor clothing, a waterproof jacket is something that seems to attract the most attention and debate.
And money.
A shell jacket as as much a symbol of intent as it is a practical garment, it looks wrong hanging on a peg in your hall. Just like a vintage BSA Gold Star, it shouldn’t be on it’s centre stand, polished up and sitting in the garage, it should be screaming down the A82 getting paint chips.

I made do for a long time, years in army surplus and PU coated nylon cagoules worn over woolly jumpers were actually just fine. Gore Tex was plastic, expensive and to be treated with suspicion.
Until one day in the Arrochar Alps where the sweat between my Peter Storm cagoule and my jumper froze. It was time to change up my clothing a wee bit.

Sprayway was my first call, but the flappy removable hood on the Torridon TL was annoying and although the velcro strips I added helped, it still wasn’t the best. That Gore Tex though, it really worked, especially worn over the assortment of fleeces I soon accumulated.
I kept trading up through the 90s, but my eyes were always drawn to the Karrimor Summit jackets in West Coast Outdoor in Fort William. It was a lot shorter than I was used to, but soft and it felt so light. It was expensive too, it was a proper mountaineers jacket. It had a nice wee multicoloured mountain logo on it. Ach, probably not for me.

Then one day in ’98 I was in West Coast and they had a stack of Summits with £100 off. It was the fancy new colours they said, folk didn’t like it. I tried one on anyway, it felt fine to me.
I pulled up the hood and that was all I needed to know, I was walking to the till.

The standard was set right there and then, my expectations now had a benchmark. Every hood I have ever pulled up since has to measure up that that moment in West Coast (it was up the stairs, on the left just before the shoes) where it was “just right”.

There’s been a lot of membrane’s under my bridge since then and features have changed a lot, weights have come down and styles have changed.
The current retro outdoor trend that is seeing 1990’s The North Face and Berghaus Gore Tex jackets sell for hundreds of pounds has allowed me to wear some of my favourite gear this winter without people pointing and laughing. I was even wearing one today now I think about. Where the hell did that rain come from and why is 20 year old 2-layer GTX ripstop so comfortable?
So, more than the other 20 year old gear I’ve dug out, I’m already very used to old Gore Tex again and you know what, I’m quite happy in it.

I have older Gore Tex, my Phoenix/Karrimor Diamond being a belter and still in good condition and the right size, but it’s just too big and heavy for this time of year. So I’m going with either of the sets below. One made in UK from ’98 and one Chinese from ’99, and Gore’s first proper step into lightweight.

1999 Karrimor Phantom Jacket and Pants, pre-production samples.
Jacket £200, 414g Size Large
Pants £120, 294g Size Large, including bits of duct tape and the two kevlar ankle patches I sewed on after shredding them with crampons.

The Phantoms probably fit with my current wants and needs for waterproofs given the weight and features but it’s not as simple as that.
The design is pretty clean looking, but it’s hiding some interesting stuff.

A lightweight jacket with proper cuffs, wide, big velcro adjusters. Get your gloves under or over these.
The elastic is lasting too, still some bounce left in it and the cuffs will pull up to my elbows. The arm articulation is pretty decent, some elbow shaping and armpit gusseting which gives a good range of movement, scarmbling friendly but not climbing friendly. The jacket is too short anyway, it barely sticks though the bottom of a pack waist belt so it would pop out of a harness all the time unless I’d imagine.

The hood is terrible. It’s a huge shapeless bag (space helmet compatible) with a single ineffectual volume reducing strip of bungee cord running vertically at the back. The peak is okay, not wired but keeps its shape. But just as you’re feeling better about it all the bungee running round your face pulls the hood in and it feels like your falling down a manhole in the street as the circle of light gets smaller in front of your eyes. It doesn’t move with my head either.
However, it rolls up with a velcro tab so you don’t have to deal with it.

The chest pockets are excellent. Nicely angled for stashing gear or warming hands and the inners are mesh which vent very well.
The pocket zips are regular zips which run so smoothly it makes using a current water resistant zip again an instant annoyance. The storm flaps cover the pockets perfectly well with a single velcro tab at the bottom corner to seal them up tight.

The big news here was the Gore Tex Paclite fabric. Lighter, more flexible, more breathable they said. It’s two layer, the PTFE membrane is visible, protected by the little rubbery dots printed on.
There was a great wailing and moaning when this version launched, Paclite I we’ll call it – version II was garbage with an inner coating and the dots, III was better with just an inner coating that does help manage condensation a wee bit.
The complaints came from the inner wetting out, which it does especially if you wear a lot under it or are working hard, over just a base layer it works fine for me at times, but it was always difficult to get a consistent performance.
The other worry was durability and actually that turned out to be okay for me, the membrane has discoloured in places, I’m assuming oils and dirt contaminating the lamination in some way, but it never delaminated or peeled, even on the pants which had some hard use over the years.

The matching pants are excellent in every way other than the weak ankles which had to be patched with the kevlar cut from the knees of some too-small Rohan techy pants.
The lower legs have zips and velcro flaps and the elasticated waist has a drawcord, that’s about it. The real revelation is the cut, these are the best shell trousers I’ve ever had regarding fit and mobility.

Pulling them on is odd as my foot slides down they feel tight, then slack, the same happens on the other leg, then fastened and adjusted they’re suddenly perfect. No stretch at all and I have unrestricted movement due to the clever articulation and gusseting. The clever backside and rear waist means they don’t slip down, no cold kidneys, no readjustment on the move.
I will continue to patch these until there is none of the original fabric left at which point I will send then to someone clever and have them make me another.
I wish.

1998 Karrimor Summit Jacket and Pants
Jacket £250, 684g Size Large
Pants £200, 630g Size Large, including braces and patches

Clean and simple and maybe a bit boxy too, this is my favourite shell combo of all time.

The cut is relaxed on the jacket and it feels odd compared to the current closer fit we’ve all got used to. Breathable fabrics work better closer to the body but in the worst winter days, being able to coorie into a bigger cut jacket had a great psychological effect. I was winning, the weather was losing.
Articulation is okay, the looser cut helps this although there is some decent forming around the pits and elbows. It’s too short though, it needed an extra couple of inches on the body which they gave it the next year. They changed the rest of the jacket too though, That did not go well at all.

The hood is the work of a pact with satan, it must be. It has the same single vertical volume reducer as the Phantom above, but here it pulls the peak up and the the hood into your head. The face drawcord seals you up and pulls the whole hood in. Slack or tight, it moves with my head and the huge peak kept out blizzards out convincingly for years.

 

A main zip that literally and figuratively zips up and down, oh I love zips that move so easily. You could also leave the zip half done and touch the velcro together for a little bit of extra venting while still keeping the snow out. Storm flaps, what a clever and useful thing.
The map pocket is huge and useful. I think in more recent years I started using chest pouches because I didn’t have this pocket anymore. Kidding aside, it’s not a vital feature, but the pocket bag is a light fabric so it doesn’t affect breathability too much, so why not.

The chest pockets are excellent. Yes they’re double fabric, but I could and can live with that. The pockets have slick and fast to use regular zips, wide entries placed at 45 degrees and a big capacity. I’m pretty sure Rohan had a very similar pocket design back in the 70’s, innovative in a time when pockets were flapped rectangles.
The pockets are external and are gusseted/bellowed to make them 3D, that meas you can pack them and they don’t overly affect the way the jacket sits. Modern closer cut jackets have waterproof zips and internal pocket bags, packing the pockets affects the way the jacket sits, sometimes raising the hem up. I’ve been A/B-ing this to test the theory, I’m not making it up.
The untaped external seams let water bleed out too, you can stash wet gear in these pockets. Aye.

The fabric is great, the lightweight ripstop was way better than the Taslan I was so used to. Softer, more packable as I started to carry ever smaller rucksacks and I think it breathed better, but maybe not. I could just have been justifying my purchase to myself.

All in all: yes please.

The matching pants tell us that softshell legs were still in the future. These big fellas were to be worn over fleece or powerstretch and at that they excelled.
Braces for stability and being able to have a looser waist, full length zips for quick on/off and internal gaiters for fastening over the big boots that used to give me blisters every time I went out.

They’re nearly the same weight as the jacket and they only went out on days I knew I’d be wearing them, I used to carry cheapos from Millets otherwise until I got the phantoms.
I loved them though, the same tangible level of protection that I got from the jacket made these feel like a fortress. On the worst days, these did make a difference and if I was going back to powerstretch leggings, these would be getting packed in winter once again.

I know nothing is perfect, but I like more features on the Summit Jacket than I do on a current equivalent. It feels ergonomic despite its straight lines and boxiness, it feels utilitarian and accessible and it feels protective.

The only things that feel like they were put there to catch the eye of someone looking for a bit of style on their mountain are the strong colours and the branding.
Its definitely not a traditional Karrimor look, but I really like it and the performance of golden era Karrimor is in there.

Can it be that fabric performance has progressed and design is just going around in circles in a cul-de-sac? Did those two elements pass each other on the way to the present day and not stop to talk?

Well no, but still.

Dammit man, those old pockets.

Bridgedale Storm Waterproof Sock Review

I’ve used waterproof socks for years but always with mixed results. Gore Tex socks were always a hit and miss affair with the chance of a perfect fit being very remote and the likelihood of taped seams being placed where they would eventually give you blisters being high.
Sealskinz were better but I never liked them for trekking, too slow to dry and just not that comfy, the stretch and form just wasn’t enough for me. However, for winter mountain biking, they were very nice indeed.

So Bridgedale’s press release raised an eyebrow, they can do socks, but can they do waterproof without all the usual drawbacks? Rarely off my feet recently have been the mid-height boot versions.

Seen above they look a bit like socks, what’s not so obvious is the slightly wetsuit-esque texture to them. The construction is a sandwich with nylon outer for abrasion resistance, a HydroTech membrane which gives you your waterproofedness and almost a regular liner sock inner with a bunch of merino in there. You can see below the pattern is pretty familiar with loopstich at the toe, heel and sole.

There’s lycra in there too and along with a big amount of stretch in the membrane this means that the wetsuit feel isn’t overpowering. In fact when I pull them on, the initial gentle compression I get everywhere but the end of my toes is unnoticeable when I get my foot into a shoe. It just feels like a normal, medium weight sock.

These mid heights are perfect for what I’ve been using them for which is bog hopping around the Lang Craigs in mesh trail shoes. The ankle stays up and there’s enough of a seal from that and the elastic cuff that I haven’t had anything running down from wet legs yet, despite a couple of soakings.

The smooth but tough nylon outer works well, I’ve purposely tried to put a hole in these by my choice of terrain. Mud full of tiny heather and grass fragments grinding away in the gap between foot and footwear has been the death of many a Gore Tex boot liner and here that tasty mix has been dried and reapplied without washing several times. Even filling the sock with water from the tap and standing there holding it over the sink, no holes seen as yet.
Actually doing that is probably a bad idea, it must really stress the membrane as there’s a lot of stretch in it, so it takes a lot of filling, which is a lot of weight. Hasn’t burst yet, I’ll keep trying.

Of course they are warmer than regular socks, but not as warm as I’d feared. On long stretches of dry trail (yes, this can actually be found, it’s not a rumour) my feet do heat up, but I’ve not overheated yet. It does make my feet sweat more though, and that’s where the sock has to do the other half of its job, get the sweat out.
I was expecting them to struggle, in a shoe, wet and covered in mud, no way they were breathing. Turns out, they kinda do.

I can’t be scientific about this, I mean, it’s the internet where opinion is presented as fact, so you know, trust me

But, my feet are keeping an enjoyable level of dryness. The inner sock wicks well and I’m assuming the constant heat source from my feet is trying to pump the sweat further through the sock layers to the outside.
When I’m regularly ankle deep in the bog and the socks are constantly saturated on the outside, taking the sock off, my bare foot feels slick, but not wet. These conditions keep my feet cool too, so the sock should be struggling and it’s still doing its best.

Another thing about being saturated is the squelching in my shoes. I’ve been convinced several times that the socks had burst and were full of water as it felt just like it, but no. What this does tell me though is that despite the apparent thickness and rubustness of the socks there’s still decent sensitivity around my foot, important in trail shoes.

I’ve tried wearing them for days straight, leaving the mud on overnight and rewearing them next day. Partly so see if I could get a hole in them, partly to see how they would smell and also to see how fast they would dry.
No holes yet as the previous disappointment indicated and the smell is good. Well, not good, no sock is ever a good place to go for fun smells. Unless it’s brand new sock just off the loom made from the finest plushest alpaca fibres. Hold it against your cheek, close your eyes, breathe in deeply, feel that warmth, the security, feel the..

Anyway, moving onto drying time. They dry on my feet really fast when walking on dry terrain, taking my shoes off for lunch they dry well, lying ignored in a corner overnight doesn’t work so well. So, for backpacking, they’ll be turned ootsides-in and spend the night in the sleeping bag. They need a heat source to dry.
Washing I have done by hand and by machine, jeez the outer sucks in a lot of dirt. Fully wet like this they take ages to dry naturally. The temptation is to throw them over the top of the radiator but I’m sure that’s going to do them any good, so it’s been a manual squeeze in a towel and onto the clothes horse near a radiator.

Washing and wearing is loosening them up, relaxing them maybe. They came flatpacked, now they kinda keep their tubular foot and ankle shape.
The three striptease photies here show a typical drier day’s run in the Storms. I keep taking the socks off expecting to see a muddy tidemark on my foot, but not yet.
It’s a sock, it is waterproof, it’s comfy.

I know I’ll wear them out at some point, I’ll either hole them or the elastic at the ankle will go, that “when” is the one gap I can’t fill in my assessment.
Until then, I will be wearing these two or three days a week. I think that thought is probably what sums it up.

£32 to £48 for light versions to beefy knee highs.

ms

Resitting my (gear)Test, starting with Tilley, Obōz and Wigwam

When talking to some outdoor pr folk over the past couple of weeks, “I knew this would happen” was the first comment I got, “Glad to see you’re doing your own thing again” was the next. I guess gear reviews are back.

So out goes compromise, censorship, and having to pick a winner from a group of almost identical items all of which are “okay” unless one accidentally happens to fit you perfectly which elevates it to “good”.
In comes enthusiasm for random items which I kinda like the look of, have interest in, look unusual or get flagged up and surprise me. There won’t be as much stuff as there used to be, I want to enjoy it and I want to maximise test time too. I’m currently in the hills three or four days a week one way or another, I’m feeling good about doing it again.

This is all partly fueled by my 20 year old gear challenge, I can’t help but get drawn into it all. The mountain man in me loves it as much as the engineer does.
However my perspective has changed, I’m not seeing that much that really excites me. The mountain brands clothing is all largely interchangeable, swap the logos around and no one will notice. I really miss individuality and character.
I’d actually be quite happy to see the old gear I’ve looked out be plundered for ideas, a lot of the thinking back in the day was good and I think aesthetic trends are neutering the designers performance ambitions in some cases. It’s all about sales to the casual bystander.

But there is indeed joy, I have seen it and I am now using it too. Tilley have sent in a LTM6 for test which will replace my assortment of army surplus bush hats this summer. It’s expensive, is it good?
On my feet are Obōz Sawtooth Low’s, a brand that had completely passed me by and which have made an impression on my feet after a few days wear. What impression are they doing? We’ll come back to that.
A familiar name is scrunched in the shoes with some Wigwam Makua Valley Pro Socks. Is that design showing cooling jungle palm leaves or the white feathers of shame?

More on the way, how it will cope being compared with gear 20 years older is a question I’ll enjoy trying to answer too.

 

2001: A Lunch Odyssey

In times past I used to drop everything and run, the weather would stick a pin in the map and and I would go straight there, grab it and use it as a tent peg while marveling at the sunset and running around with a tripod and a camera on a 30 second exposure setting.
Times changed, all that stopped and I dropped out of virtual, digital and actual sight because the last 18 months or so I’ve had a more important role, that of single parent (nobody’s dead, still tragic etc) to the awesome girl seen in this post here and all through the ten years worth of pages behind it.
It was an easy adjustment to make, I never even thought about it, randomly disappearing for a few days here and there just wasn’t an option. There was never any frustration, I had no pressure to go anyway after Walkhighlands pulled the plug on the reviews and the desire just wasn’t there, Holly needed me close to home and I wanted to be there.

What we never stopped doing was going into the hills together for a wee gad about, every chance we got we were up the A82, exploring, having lunch and arguing about what music to listen to in the truck.
We’re still doing that, but we both have been finding more energy and enthusiasm the past few months. Holly’s been asking to go, if I say I’m thinking about a trip she’s asking to come along and off we go, whatever the weather. And now of course we’re hitting the trails.
Holly’s been approaching it on her own terms, sorting her kit out, packing a rucksack and then standing at the door telling me to hurry up. She’s even taken over the gear testing, more of which imminently.

So when the plan for taking advantage of yesterday’s stunning weather changed from a solo camp to me and the girl heading north as a team there was nothing but grins from either of us.

The sun did indeed beat down, the cool breeze above the trees was a life saver. Nice to be back in trail shoes and a trekking shirt too.

The returnees from Beinn Laoigh all looked hot and bothered, there were some skis in evidence, strapped to the sides of packs, some mad bastards had been screaming down the coire. Looked awesome from Cononish and I bet it was nice and cool in the shadow of the summit.
A fine hill, I should go back, been a wee while.

We had walked by the riverside on the way in and decided to find our way back as the beaches looked awfy inviting for wasting some time on.

We found a perfect spot where the river was broken by some rocks and then thrown down a little waterfall. We had the last of our snacks and dipped hot feet into the heart-stoppingly cold water, snowmelt straight from Coire Gaothach.
A little rest soon stretched out to an hour and more, it’s amazing how much fun you can have just skipping around rocks in bare feet.

We didn’t want to leave, so we didn’t. My pack made a convincing pillow, which Holly found amusing and caught me rotten with the camera.
The giggling stirred me from my doze, I removed the hat and my freshly dazzled eyes looked straight up at a Golden Eagle, lazily circling high above.
Quick, gimme the camera!
No dad, you’re not deleting it… (runs across the rocks)
But.. Look… There’s an eagle… it’s… quick…
Huh?

Well, the moon was still there by the time we sorted it out. Holly did get to see it too luckily.
Of course the way memory works, in a year or two the sighting will have developed into a life or death struggle between the bird, the angry badger in its talons and us watching helplessly as we cling onto the icy rocks at the edge of a 100m waterfall as our canoe shatters on the boulders at the bottom.

The West Highland Way was full of folk, and the hillwalker car parks were full and the A82 is now much better between Crianlarich and Tyndrum, smooth, cheap tarmac now thinly carpets the road surface. It’ll be down to the canvas again by winter. Yay.

What a brilliant day.

2001? That’s how much lunch was. Oof.

 

Only one apple pie

“I’ll come too”, and with that a dash uphill because a patch of blue sky had appeared became a family affair.

The blue patch proved elusive in location and inconsistent in transparency, which is to say it clouded over a wee bit. So no fancy sunset, but it was all still very pretty if a little windy.
Bats, birds, deer, a falcon and a slug rolled up like a doughnut. It was like being on safari.

The primrose were blossoming in force and we took some unusual route choices to avoid doubling back. Steep slippy slopes brought no panic or gripping onto dad’s arm and the joy of watching Holly skip from mossy boulder to mossy boulder on the handful of burn crossings made me swell with pride. She’s got it, she’s got the head and the feet linked up.

Roky Erickson

I knew it was going to rain, it was just a question of when, so I was thinking quick even if I couldn’t actually do quick the justice it deserved.
I jumped over the wall and crossed the field, heading for the giant’s staircase, the broken buttress at the southern end of the Lang Craigs that hides a steep, fun and quick way to get a bit of height.
I was panting a wee bit, I’m out and about a lot just now, but bloody hell it’s a tough road back to fitness.

Grey, a bit misty and pretty windy. No view to speak of, but that just focuses the eyes on the nearby. The nearby looked quite interesting so I thought I’d get my camera out and point it in the interesting direction.
The little rectangle flashed red, dammit I’ll change the battery. The little rectangle flashed red again. Oh, come on idiot. The third battery brought with it no little red triangle, just a message – NO BATTERY POWER REMAINS. Then the lens retracted.

My Sony somethingorother phone’s camera is rubbish in low light, but it went in my chest pocket anyway and I went back to looking around me and stepping in every puddle, mudbath and burn to try and break these new Bridgedale waterproof socks. It’s nice to have a purpose.
The edge of the crags has a very nice symmetry to it from certain points, like big saw teeth. Looking at that kept me from looking at the recently reprieved  Forestry Commission Scotland’s utter mess and destruction of their part of the Kilpatricks. I avoid the ascent from Old Kilpatrick now, it’s even worse there and it’s a total disgrace what they’ve done at the top of the track. I still get angry thinking about it never mind walking or biking through it.

I decided on Doughnot Hill and to keep to a circular route I took to the forest roads. We used to run and ride the singletrack here, now log piles line the wide gravel truck highway. It’s depressing. I know it’s good that the plantations are coming out and “real trees” are going in, but it’s still hideous.

The thick carpet of moss that clung to the soft curves of the previously forgotten and neglected plateau has been torn up and replaced by a thatch of dead, bleached twigs, cast away like empty shell casings from the rapid fire of the machine saw ripping up the trees.

I escaped to the dammed edge of the black Linn Reservoir where a pair of taiga bean geese honked towards me from the gloom and landed on the grassy path running along the dam. They waddled slowly towards the water and sailed off either unworried by my presence or oblivious despite my large bright orangeyness.
It’s an easy curve uphill to the trig pillar on Doughnot. I usually skirt just below the little summit dome while following the deer fence so I hadn’t been here in a wee while and it was, unexpectedly, a little strange coming back. There’s ghosts here.
You won’t see them though, they’re my ghosts.
I was alone as the wind picked up and the rain started to ping off my hood, but I was surrounded too. There were laughs and shouts, banter and mock surprise, a stove being lit and the slap of a chain on an alloy stay, there was even a kiss followed by a smile with a glow as golden as the sunset that followed it.

I sat on a rock and watched the murk flop off the lip of the crags and then close in around me as the ghosts faded into silence and I started on a gluten-free oat and chocolate protein bar. I think it only tasted so nice because everything else was now grey.
I looked back at the trig pillar before I left. I love this spot, I always have. A few rocks, some tufts of grass and a worn concrete block with time spent in the company of friends woven though all of it.

I might be getting to be a sentimental old fool, but I’ll tell you something, despite all my efforts over that day, my feet were dry when I got home. I like these socks.

Loch Lomond Faerie Trail

We parked at Luss, had our lunch on the bench and were wandering up the track towards Beinn Dubh when we noticed lots of kids and parents heading up towards the old quarry. There were booklets in hands, pink wings strapped onto little shoulders and much shouting from the woods. The signs on the trees had the answer “Faerie Trail this way…”. Holly nearly exploded with excitement.

I asked the next family was saw what we were supposed to do, here they said take one of our books, and here’s a pencil too. Thanks you very much we said. Wasn’t til later we found out you have to pay for the book and pencil. In the unlikely event that nice family sees this, properly thank you.

There’s clues, there’s a trail, The Loch Lomond Faerie Trail, and it takes you from Luss to the quarry and down along the river back to Luss near the church.
All along there are hidden fairy doors, houses in the trees, signs and boards with clues, stories and rhymes. Just be wary of the troll…
Everyone we saw was enjoying it, everyone was chatting, kids were laughing and playing with new friends and the woods were full of people and voices.

It’s a lot of fun, it’s well put together with lovely work on the installations and the distance is enough to make it a real activity rather than a distraction. The route I know well anyway and the views it brings are fantastic, from the Luss hills through the birch canopy to Ben Lomond looming over the village as you near the end.
We both had a ball.

When I read up on it back at home I saw some varied opinions. One said that the trail had ruined a wild area and lovely walk. I think the quarry we’re all still walking through probably ruined that little corner of wilderness first, time healed that, it would hope it will heal this too one day.
This lovely little corner has been changed though, not just by the faerie world that’s been added to the trees. Fences and muddy trails have replaced the mossy carpet and rocky drops to the river. It’s going to take a lot of maintenance to keep some parts of the trail usuable.
There’s laughing kids though, laughing kids covered in mud and families together having fun in the woods. You can’t knock that.
Me, my extra hope is that it chases away the tree-cutting, log burning, plastic bottle dropping neds that usually congregate there. We’ll see.

Take the kids, even if you think they’re too big for it. Magic fun.

Top tip? Don’t forget #5.

Memorised

I remember often saying that the main reason for blogging was leaving my future self a record of what I had done. I meant it when I said it, but I also believe there was as much optimism in that thought at the time as there was certainty.
Ten and a bit years on, it turns out that not only was I right, it was the single best reason for having this place.

Searching on google for some of the retro stuff I’ve been doing lately amusingly and slightly frustratingly often gives me links or images bringing me straight back here.
This of course means that no one is interested in old gear except me which is absolutely fine. Mountain Range and North Cape have slipped out of the outdoor enthusiast’s consciousness and off the edge of the search engine radar. Even the recent and short lived UK manufacturing venture of True Mountain are almost invisible now. Happy to planting a little flag for some of this.

But. If I click on these links leading back here it doesn’t just take me to a page, it takes me to a point in time in my own life. I’ve never looked back like this until now. Waves of joy and melancholy come and go as I scroll and click through so many forgotten or distant moments, thoughts, adventures and of cource, faces too.

The voice on the pages is familiar, the grinning face scattered through the words a little less so. I can see a life that has changed so very much for the bearded bloke, for a start there’s a daughter that has grown from a bundle of gurgling cuteness to a surprisingly tall and ever so slightly gothy best friend.
That year out doesn’t need filled in though, however wide it looks in the From More Before search widget, the gap itself marks it’s own place in my timeline.

I took my links widget down when I tidied the front page when I started posting again. So many dead links or blogs not updated for years, people have drifted away to other things, lost interest or energy.
I hope they don’t forget about it altogether.

That’s enough thinking for one day I suppose. It took me a little over ten years to do it, but I think I finally know what blogging is all about. For me anyway.

Ten years? Ten years ago this week, my feet were cooling down from this nonsense. Memories indeed.

You go first!

No getting away anywhere for me this easter, however the Lang Craigs have seen me what feels like every other day. Probably because it has been every other day.
Been solo, been with friends, been in the rain, went in the surprise snow of last week too and then made it up there last night with Holly under quickly fading clear blue skies.

We had as much fun as always and I got her into my current retro gear thing by strapping an ancient Jack Wolfskin bumbag on her. Turns out she really likes it and I’m not getting it back.

The tracks higher up are currently a mudbath, red sticky mud that clings to you like a strip of 2″ velcro and we both got it bad. But back down, close to the truck a double dare saw us both jump into a burn to try and wash it off.
Turns out my 20 year old boots are way more waterproof that Holly’s new ones. The screams as the ice cold water hit her feet made me laugh so hard I’m starting to crack up again thinking about it 24 hours later.

Screaming and laughing in turns we ran back to the truck and rattled home for tea, toast and dry feet.
Magic.

20YOC Gear: Head, Hands & Feet. Lowe Alpine, Karrimor, Mountain Range, Terra Firma (I think…).

Lowe Alpine Mountain Cap

As unglamourous as it is practical as it is copied.
The Mountain Cap is warm, often too warm for me, waterproof, except that rain runs down the back of your neck and you have to take it off and pull your hood up.
Well, I suppose I’m being a bit harsh there. It was a great winter cap for cold and blowy days and it certainly cushioned my head from the weight of my Petzl Zoom on long night time descents and walks-out.

The designers spent some time thinking it out. There’s a rear cinch, a wired peak that clips up and attachment for a chin strap which you don’t need as I always found the shaping was so good it just stuck to my head in the wind anyway.

It’s light enough and stuffs away quite readily, it feels soft to wear too, despite the waterproof Triple Point taped-seam shell outer.

I’ve had a few copies from other manufacturers, none of them as well engineered as this, none quite as complete. Half arsed bootlegs from bigger brands. Shame on them.
It’s worn and a bit dogeared but it’ll do just fine. A warm napper at camp for sure.

Not sure of the age, mid 90’s again I think, the Lowe Alpine logo is purple and silver which makes it a bit older maybe. Pretty sure the orange version on the label below became standard at some point before 2000.

And also on that label? Made in Ireland.

Aye.

Karrimor Alpine Headband

I never did like wearing this. The ear warmer headband was a good idea before buffs were stuffed into every pocket and designs varied wildly from woolly skiers accessories to this Karrimor version which laid railway tracks into my forehead with that double lycra trim. The lycra bands would creep towards each other too , eventually making it look like I had a mini beginner swimmer’s flotation ring round my head. The wind also goes straight through that well-bobbled (hmm, I must have worn it then…) Polartec 200.
But, it’s the only one I can find, plus it’s got the awesome old Karrimor Elite logo. It’ll be fine.

Karrimor Powerstretch Balaclava

I went from a wool balaclava with peak and a pompom to this. It’s got a decent shape to it, I can have my chin out or have my nose covered and the top can sit at my eyebrows or be pulled pretty far back for a bit of cooling.

The fabric is an early Powerstretch variant, ‘Series 200’ is says on the label below. It also says 100% polyester but the old catalogue says there’s a nylon face on the fabric which sounds right, so I’m going with that. The label might just be randomly sewn on at the factory because it says Polartec on it.
Not the stretchiest maybe, but the fabric feels nice enough and the serged seams around the face aperture and neck don’t upset my skin or mood.

I think I reviewed a balaclava or two a few years ago and that would be the last time I wore one. Hooded midlayers and buffs kinda killed them for me.

Karrimor Windbloc Grip Gloves

I remember buying these. I had been watching them for ages as they sat shining brightly from the accessory dookits in Summits on Moss Street in Paisley.
£30 quid though, for fleece gloves. But they just fit so well, it was always going to happen.

It was a good call, they went on every trip for many years. I could get thin liners underneath or wear them on their own, the long cuffs tucked up shell jacket sleeves, the little velcro cinches kept them snug and the grip patches, although not very sensitive or dexterous feeling, gripped axes, poles and clothing adjusters just fine.

The Polartec Windbloc fabric worked better here than it did on any jackets I had where sweat overpowered it pretty quick. With a smooth outer and a slightly piled inner it was warm, windproof and pretty waterproof too. I’ve got photies of me wearing these crusted in ice while smiling, so they must have worked just fine.
I’m sure that will continue.

The tag was in the box with all my old catalogues and stuff. You used to get a plastic card with Karrimor Elite gear which you could fill in with your emergency details on the back.
£30 for fleece gloves though. That was about £7000 back then.

Mountain Range Murton Mitts

Gore Tex outer mitts with pile inners, these were the winter hand protectors of justice.

I wore these a lot, the palms gripped axes really well and they were nice and warm. The palm grip material is rubbery feeling with a bit of stretch to it, although it looks like the mitts are a sensory deprivation device, they really weren’t, buckles and zip pulls were no source of frustration. That’s old school zips by the way, something I will be returning to too soon.

Wrist cinches, long cuffs with adjusters and well shaped.

Mountain Range were never sexy, their gear was plain and practical. GoreTex Taslan everywhere.
Now that is a name that instantly takes me to a time and a place.
The pile inners seen below were great in the tent, nice and warm. I wonder why I gravitated to Buffalo Mitts from these, pack size probably? The Murtons are definitely better on the move.

Made in Cumbria it says on the label. Imagine that.

Terra Firma Explorer Socks (I think…)

It was once advised that walkers wear red socks for visibility, not to each other, but to search parties. There’s a thought.
“Okay, the casualty is lying in heather at the bottom of the crag, he is wearing a tweed jacket and deerstalker with moleskin plus-fours. The good news is that he was indeed wearing red socks as advised, if we’re lucky he’ll have them pulled up to the knee which will gives us a better chance of finding him before spring…”.

Anyway. I’m sure a mob called Terra Firma made these, the name is lodged at the back of my head. Tiso did them I think? Actually quite nice socks, the loops are still loopy, the construction is wool and something else. I’ve got another pair of similar vintage which are worn right down, the wool is gone at the heels but a suspected nylon web remains.

Really long. Cozy or sweaty, we shall see.

Meraklon Liner Gloves

I have been finding these polypropylene liners everywhere since I’ve been rummaging. Glad I kept them, they’ve doubled in price to around a fiver these days.
Still a handy* bit of kit, they keep the chill off more than the spit-through thin fabric suggests and they last as well.
These were balled up and stuffed into rucksack lid that hasn’t been opened in nearly 20 years. A wee wash and they’re as good as new.

Hmm. Might try that same trick on my truck.

*Ha.

 

20YOC gear: Baselayers. North Cape (RIP) & Lowe Alpine (partial RIP)

Underwear…

The Science of moisture management.

Finding decent vintage underwear was a mix of triumph and despair. My main goal was finding both intact and in an unlikely size large, some Jack Wolkskin Polartec pants variants. No joy.

Back in the day the Green Welly at Tyndrum had a wee outdoor shop stuck behind the garage where the basic cafe is now. In here was a rack of Jack Wolfskin baselayers of all designs, mostly in grey marl but also some wacky striped stuff. I got a few things from there over the years but it was my lower half I was looking to get covered right now.
I was hoping to find either the long legged boxers or the wind briefs or whatever they were called, basically Polartec 100 (as it was then) with a bit of Pertex sewn over the crotch. Hideous yes, but also practical. And potentially amusing.
Nowhere to be seen though, probably worn to death, shredded and binned many years ago. Ah well.

I was happier once again when I found my tops, which I knew I still had lurking somewhere, my North Cape Coolmax Long Sleeve Henleys.

Not sure how old these are. The blue one is the end of the 90’s I think, the orange one is older. I absolutely love these, if I hadn’t been lured away by the first wave of modern merino I would probably have worn these until they fell apart.
The fit is excellent, slim overall, a long body, long sleeves and excellent articulation from the simple construction and decent stretch in the fabric. The cuffs are nice, low bulk and long so they slip under gloves and jacket cuffs and reach right down to base of my thumbs.

The collar is excellent, I like crew necks. I rarely wear zip necks now, in winter I don’t need to vent, in summer I wear a trekking shirt or a polo, which has buttons like this Henley and a sun deflecting collar. The three buttons aren’t a hassle, they’re grippable with light gloves and don’t catch chest hair like zips can.

The construction (done in Springkerse Industrial Estate, Stirling) is neat with a mix of flat locked and serged seams, no stitching has ever popped and no seam has ever rubbed.
I’ve been wearing these the past couple of weeks and while the fabric does manage moisture a tiny bit slower than current fabrics and a couple of days wear might bring some odours tiny bit quicker than you might expect these days, I’m not seeing any disadvantage to wearing these given that they are supremely comfortable.

It’s a shame that North Cape are defunct, the only stuff I can can compare it to in recent times is maybe Chocolate Fish (also defunct) and Wild Stripes. Like North Cape their gear is functional and to the point with great fabrics and welcome, basic construction.

I’m getting pissed off with every layer having to be sexy and trying to make me look like an athlete in a pose from a brand catalogue (virtual obviously, we don’t do paper any more).
I look at a current base layer and there’s seams all over the bloody thing and the arm lift is still inferior to the plain stuff above. What the hell is that all about? “Put seams on it, make body mapping zones, it’ll look technical”. No, it looks like you’re trying too hard to impress me, stop it, it’s a lot of pish.

The shops I bought the North Cape’s in are dead and gone too, the wee independents of Challenge Sports in Falkirk and Dry Walker in Edinburgh.

The oldest pants I can find are these Lowe Alpine boxers. I’ve used plenty Dryflo over the years, in fact a bright red three button Dryflo henley long sleeve top from the mid 90’s was a contender for the shirt but it was just too damned tight on me now.
Y-fronts though. Hmm.

Fabric’s okay, not the best stretch, the crotch shaping is pretty good though, nicely 3D. I suppose they’re just the purchasing choice of a 34″ waisted bloke in his late 20’s or early 30’s, I’m not that guy, but I made a deal with myself about going all vintage. Just breathe in I suppose. Clench too maybe.

Lowe Alpine made some excellent clothing, Triple Point shells were all over the hills at one point and they championed eVent early on too. Just branded packs from the Equip group now. Bummer.

20YOC Gear: Karrimor K-SB 3 Original

I found these the other day and took them into the Kilpatricks the other night (blog post below this one I think?) to see how I got on with them again. It went well enough, the overall fit is still good although the heel cup is a little roomier than I like these days, but I can dial that down a bit with socks and insoles.
The sole isn’t the grippiest on the muddly conditions around the Lang Craigs just now but I’m used to slidey trail shoes so I quickly forgot I was wearing them and spent a fine few hours wandering, trouble free.

So, the KSB’s are in my kitlist. I even found 3 of the original 4 insoles – two thin versions and one of the double thickness volume reducers, a nice touch from the original Karrimor. They’ve taken a kicking back in the day, but I’ll try them out before I likely go for some current Sole insoles to help with the heelcup thing, I don’t want a single blister thanks very much. There are some retro items I don’t want to revisit.

I think these are from ’96 or ’97. In ’95 the logo on the tongue was different and by ’97 only the Gore Tex lined version was available.
Branded by and manufactured by Garmont who over the years had some nice collaborations with Karrimor. Asymmetric ‘ADD’ lacing ? Yes please.

So, the exact words from Karrimor in their ’97 workbook…
K-SB 3 Original
The boot that changed our thinking about lightweight boots has become the classic 3-season suede/Cordura boot.
The KSB-3 has been used and abused on some of the toughest trails worldwide and keeps getting better.
Recommended use: Back packing, fell walking, scrambling, even mountain biking.
Features: >’Original’ frameflex insole >Skywalk dual density sole >Antibacterial footbed
Weight: 630g
Sizes: (UK, whole and half sizes): Men’s 6.5-12
Colour: Sage (51-236/37)
Price: £90

I haven’t weighed them, so can’t confirm or refute the original figure. After the trip I’ll do that and do some sort of comparison to current kit. Or something.
They feel okay though and they are light enough on my feet. The ankle cuff is really high, winter boot high and it’s pretty stiff laterally although forward flex is good. It almost feels like they’ve got some breaking in still to do, so I’ll wear them a wee bit before I carry overnight kit in them.
The cuff and tongue are gusetted right to the top, excellent for keeping crap out and would have been great in the GTX version if the liner went right up to the top.

The inner is lined with some fuzzy stuff with a honeycomb matrix in it, kinda looks like Cambrelle but it’s not named in the spec so maybe aye, maybe naw? Whatever, it does seem to wick sweat away but might there might be some insulative qualities there too, either from the lining, the upper construction or both as these are quite a warm pair of boots.

Neat stitching, tidy construction with clean lines and classic good looks. These KSB’s are approachable and utilitarian, a boot for a purpose that isn’t trying to make you look sexy or sell itself on a busy web page.
Look at a typical modern boot aimed at a similar market to this old timer and you see lots of different fabrics, lots of stitching, lots of glue, lots of plastic, a formula one car for your feet that will fray and unravel long before you have a chance to pack it away for a rainy day like these KSB’s.

What the hell happened? 20 odd years later, how much weight saving in our gear have we traded for a shorter life and making more waste. I’ve trashed maybe twenty or thirty of pairs of Montrail’s, Salomon’s and Inov8’s over the last ten year or so. Is there an equation or an equivalence over time here that will shame us and the manufacturers or are we actually doing better now and I’m an idiot?
I said years back that we need a simple lightweight trail mids in natural materials and I think that more than ever right now.
This 20 year thing started as a bit of fun, nostalgia, but now it’s really making me think too.

I will learn more as I go. I will grin a lot, but I think I might occasionally rage too. Just wait until I get to waterproof jackets.

Inscribe 50 Colouring Pencils Made in Holland

It was an interesting week, work was convoluted and happily constant. I do enjoy the ultimate contrasting experience of being busy and skint.
I’d also been to the hills, had an unexpected breakfast with a pal, ran around, rummaged and pretty much used up all my waking hours doing something or other.
I got home at tea time on Friday and sat in my chair. Nice.

However my chair looks across the Clyde to a row of wee tops and those remaining white streaks were catching a little evening sun. I stood back up,went to the window and looked right to the tail of the bank. It was hazy, was that rain? It was a golden fuzz of some sort anyway. It was mostly clear above though and the sun would be down in about half an hour. That’ll be nice I thought to myself.

Aye. Telly back off, gear packed and out. The best thing about being “back” is that my gear is sitting there ready to go, no hassle, no hunting for stuff, just grab and go. Funny how that arrangement only seems obvious now, note to self etc…

I marched up the track, figuring it might be marginally faster than unlocking the gates and driving up. I was racing the sun the whole time, as I gained height, it slipped a little further into the bands of cloud on the horizon.
On the steep track to the bench on the ridge I slipped into the lead while the sun fumbled a gear change and lost momentum. Yes please.

The place was all mine, mine and the sky’s, time and space to just stop and wait for nothing to happen.
I bimbled the grassy ridge to Round Wood Hill as the colours bled through every hue of orange, red, gold and purple that you could find in the bumper coloured pencil box you got from santa in 1973.
The cool blues and browns eventually took it all away as I reached the top of the track and I headed down with thoughts of dinner while pulling on a beanie and zipping my top up to my chin. The sun is actually warm when you can see it, science is a wonderful thing.

 

The Man In Black

Gateway to adventure? Ha.

The blue sky was no less alluring when viewed through my dirty windscreen as I spun around the bustling metropolis of Dumbarton.
Mother’s car wouldn’t start, Holly was having a home lunch, there was a control engineer on his way to meet me on the other side of Glasgow. It was a nice day for everything to go wrong.
An hour later, it was all fine. Jump leads, truck redirection, phone calls and lunch. It was all resolved too quickly, I now had an afternoon where what I was supposed to have been doing I was now doing the day after.

That blue sky though.

I got the last space at the side of the road, even this late in the afternoon folk were still up there. On a Monday too. Good effort people.
I got ready nice and fast, more familiar kit, no chances were to be taken. My pack was light, it was comfy, every drawcord was where I’d left it, my bottle was just where my hand went to find it. Oh yes, this is the way to do it.
I stuck my camera and tripod on my front pouch, in recent times this had felt like an inconvenience, not anymore, it was time to play.

The sun was a little lower than I expected, the softer light was draining a little of the blue from above and it felt warm, in tone and in temperature. I sweated up the track on a wide, windless ridge.
I paced myself, I rested and sipped from my old oval Sigg, I examined every footstep for a twinge from a knee which never came. I just took it easy, I stopped worrying, I stopped overthinking and I just looked around me as I climbed, step after step, breath after breath.
Walking is just a simple mechanical motion, so why was I feeling brighter with every step? I could feel my lack of hill fitness with every vertical metre claimed but it didn’t hurt at all.

A paraglider arced above the loch to land in a field at Luss. Silent and slow, over too quick, it must have been beautiful enough to not feel the long climb to the launch.

It got a little colder, a little darker and the air was now moving past me fast enough to be noticed and it was going through my top as well, so I pulled on a windshirt and beanie.
The snow was creeping slowly from white to something else, a wash of pink and gold, a hint of sunset. The frozen grass sparkled in jagged shapes all around me, I think if I’d kicked through it as I walked the air would have been full of chimes as the long iced blades swung against each other.

The summit was cold. The sun was nearly down and the eastern horizon was a strip of pink fading into indigo. Ben Lomond was showing me it’s widest aspect, a block of shining pink reflecting the last of the day back across the loch. A scattering of lenticular clouds formed and hovered, sucking up the last of the light and sending the sun over the ridge to the west.
I was late when I left, but I’d still caught it. The grin was wide, the little voice inside was shouting at me. Yes, yes, I hear you, I know, I know.

I’d descended north to find shelter, hunger had suddenly moved past the view in order or priorities, I need a hot drink. A hot drink, insulation and bigger gloves. The temperature dropped sharply.
My dear old mother had thrown me together some pieces (sammidges, for google translate) as I’d passed through and as the stove came to the boil I tore into my cheese, ham, apple and stawberry jam on bread. The utter joy of it.

My little corner was good, out of the wind with a view north to the Arrochar Alps. There were some northern lights a bit further north the night before and I know there’s a chance this far south but the sky went to black and stayed that way. All this was enough anyway.
I could feel the gap between my 3/4 longjons and my rolled down socks, it was getting really cold. I pulled up my socks. So that’s what lower leg zips are for.
I pulled down my hood to have a proper look around and instantly regretted it, the cold felt like a solid, physical object as it hit my head. I put my hood back up and it stayed there until I took my down jacket off when I was nearly back at the truck.

Another cuppa was made and the ridge was paced in circles to keep the heat in my toes. The wind was strong but not strong enough to push me, it felt calm and quiet, it was peaceful here in the dark.
I packed up and I still lingered. I looked at the dim horizon, a jagged line from west to east, a line I have walked every uneven angle of, every top I could just make out has personal bookmark, a memory, a face or a moment in time long past and it drifted back on faded waves of joy and melancholy as I stood there in the dark.
As my crampons crunched me homewards over the last rounded top before the long descent I found my head fuller than it was when I started.
They say you can go to the mountains to lose yourself, but then they also say you can go to the mountains to find yourself. It’s also been said that “The soul of the gael is on the summit of the mountain“. Maybe it’s a little of each.

My headtorch cut out, the little flash had warned me and I was ready for it but I wasn’t ready for the way the sky picked up the slack. The crescent moon and riot of stars in crystal clear air was stunning. I looked up and spun slowly around until I was dizzy.
So close to home but so far from worry and oh, look at the time, Holly would be coming home from guides. I smiled at that as I picked up the downhill pace. I’d showed her my base layer before I left, she looked at the orange and purple stripes for a while and issued her statement “Hmm. Dad, never wear that in front of me again”.
The ultimate parental superpower, the power of embarrassment. Awesome.

 

20YOC Gear, Coleman, Ajungilak and Rab.

I’m enjoying this. I was looking for an old Camping Gaz (as it was, now it’s Campingaz and much harder to say, and indeed look at) canister top stove and found this Coleman Alpine instead.
This was a great stove in its day, low and stable so excellent for use in a tent porch. The remote canister adds to the stability and means you can keep the gas can warm or run it upside down (very carefully so it doesn’t flare) as the burner has a preheat tube to evaporate the the liquid fuel into gas before it gets to the burner.
The pot stand is wide and grippy, just not as good for the smaller pots I use these days. The burner is well shaped, great on the smaller pots I use these days. Hmm.
It’s chunky with a large pack size and getting a little heavy, don’t know the grammes, I can just feel it, but it doesn’t look too far away from what would catch my eye today.
No idea about fuel useage, I’ll see what happens. In general though, I think this will work just fine.

Age is mid 90’s, this went to Morvich camp site on my first ever Five Sisters trip around ’97. Some trips stay with you. I do think the hose is newer though, the original might have been the orange rubber that always cracked and the hose clips look like I did them: rough.

Pots are going to be a problem. I had a kettle thing I used with this. It died tragically years back when on an engineering contract with no power and no water.
I was heating the kettle for our tea with an oxygen/acetylene torch because we didn’t have anything else on the first day. It went well at first, then it went all wrong.

Sleepy times will be familiar indeed, from the mid 90’s is this Ajungilak Kompakt 3. From Ajungilak of Norway made in England by Snuggledown of Norway UK, now of course made in China by Mammut of Switzerland. It’s a small world.

I loved this bag when it was new, silky smooth inside and cut a little wider than I’m used to now which will be nice and comfy but it’ll probably make it a little cooler than I’d like.
Smooth running zip, terrible old school shoelace style adjusters, a well shaped hood and a huge pack size due to the beefy synthetic fill. It’s still pretty fat feeling so I think it’ll insulate well enough.

It’s a wee bit fusty, so I did think about getting it washed in giant washing machine somewhere. Might just air it outside for a few days, see if that freshens it up.

Just in case it is a bit cooler, I have this rather old Rab fleece sleeping bag liner. I think it’s karisma fleece, the wind resistant stuff used in among other places, the front of old Karrimor Alpiniste fleece’s, old Mountain Equipment Ultrafleece jackets and currently by Hilltrek on a rather nice looking smock and some er, joggers too.
The shape fits the Kompakt (maybe I bought it for it?) and the drawcorded opening is wide enough to wriggle out of quick enough for a pee at 1am.
Simple, even dull bit of kit which I’ll use if I need to. The weather will decide.

The stuff sack is teal. Where did teal go to?