Not Even Bleeding

Two Birds in Cage

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Sun, 03 May 2015 14:09:00 +0000

Many years ago I was a Cub Scout, I belonged to the 1st Winlaton pack for a few years and thoroughly enjoyed it. Unfortunately I never took it any further, unlike my (much) older brother who reached the heady heights of Venture Scouts and seemed to be permanently involved in some sort of epic adventure (I'm sure he remembers it differently). I let my interest wane and through a combination of moving house and sheer, bloody laziness I stopped going. I never even made Sixer.

Now at the age of 39 I'm happy to say that, for about the last 5 years, I've been involved in Scouting again. First as a parent helper with Beavers, then as a Sectional Assistant.

I've even got a Woggle.

Kay and Jo, looking quite sane...for now.

I help out as much as work allows and find it very rewarding. I've had great fun introducing the kids to activities like climbing and hiking. I've also made great friends of the other leaders. All the leaders are amazing people, they give their time freely and with no financial recompense to teach your children skills that will last them a lifetime.

Two of these awesome people are ladies called Kay and Jo, they have been the Beaver Section leaders of my local Scout group, 1st Lingfield and Dormansland, for over ten years.
Both my bairns and those of many of my friends have benefited from their leadership and the great start they've been given in their Scouting lives by this pair of superstars. Now the ladies are embarking on a bit of an adventure, let me explain.

In the middle of our village there sits the village jail, known to all as The Cage. Now this isn't the plush, modern super jail that TV would have us believe exists, this was built in 1771 to house poachers and drunks and its as cold and dark as the deepest recesses of Cthulhu's mind. It's also rumoured to be haunted and infested with all kinds of nasty creepy crawly.

The Cage...into what antediluvian depths do the roots of that tree delve?

What, I hear you say has this to do with Jo and Kay? Well, at 6pm on the 22nd of May they're going to lock themselves in the Cage for 24 hours (or as long as their sanity lasts....queue evil laughter...). They're embarking upon this descent into ancient creepiness to raise much needed funds for the Scout group. So please, pop along to their 'mydonate' page, Two Birds in a Cage, and give what you can.

They'd love it if you popped along to Facebook and liked their page as well.

Are you sure...?

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Thu, 08 May 2014 20:34:00 +0000

I've just spent the weekend in North Wales, once again staying at Jesse James' Bunkhouse near Llanberis. A smaller group than last August's outing, only seven of us, Mrs W and me, our two offspring, our friends Simon and Wendy and their daughter, so rather than the main bunkhouse we stayed in Castell Gwynt, a smaller, cosier annexe to the main building. Our plan? On Saturday to climb Glyder Fawr via the Devil's Kitchen, bag Glyder Fach and then descend back to Ogwen Cottage by way of Bristly Ridge and Llyn Bochlwyd and on Sunday to do a little climbing on Lion Rocks before sating our need for discount outdoor clothing in Betws y Coed.

Down the valley toward Tryfan and Llyn Ogwen

In the weeks leading up to our weekend away Simon and I had sat down with a route card he'd used when he first did the planned route in 1992 and plotted the route on an OS map so as to familiarise ourselves with it, buying a new map to ensure that we had the most up to date information. Arriving at Jesse's on Friday night we sat down with him and discussed our planned route with him for a spot of local knowledge, so, at 0930 on Saturday morning when we parked up at Oggy Cottage we were more than confident that we knew what we were doing and off we set.

The morning was perfect, not to hot, not to cold and the main thing, dry. Apart from an abortive attempt at Tryfan via the North Ridge I'd no experience of the Glyderau so was really looking forward to the coming adventure, although the prospect of both the Devil's Kitchen and Bristly Ridge were peaking my fear of heights. Our chosen route was to take us around the northern shore of Llyn Idwal before peeling off to strike up the Devil's Kitchen, sure enough, as we left the shore of the lake we encountered the expected steep ground, which kept getting steeper and steeper and the views across to Tryfan kept getting better and better as we went up and up and up.
After around two hours of almost constant height gain, the application of one compeed patch and a splodge of lip balm to a warm heel (Vaseline left at Jesse's) we arrived at a cairn just below the final rise to the summit of Glyder Fawr. A quick lunch and a cup of tea, well done Wendy, and we gained the summit.

As we stood, admiring the view, feeling very proud as we looked at the ridge we'd just climbed, a dawning realisation crept over the adult members of our little band of adventurers. A ridge? Hang on a minute, the Devil's Kitchen isn't a ridge. Those two lakes we passed, shouldn't they have been on the right of the path, not the left? And why the hell am I looking south at Llyn y Cŵn?

Are you sure this is Glyder Fawr?

A quick check on our position via electronic means showed a little problem, we'd climbed the wrong mountain. We were, in fact, standing on the summit of Y Garn. Oops.

Still, faint heart ne'er won fair maid and all that bollocks, so we decided we'd push and bag Glyder Fawr anyway. The scree slope up to the summit of Glyder Fawr is not in good nick and made for an interesting, taxing, slippery scramble before a fun hands and knees job on to the actually pointy, summitty bits which the kids loved. We looked across to the summit of Glyder Fach and discussed whether or not carry on but all three kids were, shall we say, less than enthusiastic so we decided to take advantage of a planned escape route down Y Gribin.

Looking down Y Gribin

This provided a great deal of entertainment as we hadn't realised it was something of a cliff, necessitating the use of not only hands and knees but also backsides. After 7 and a half hours we arrived back at the car and drove back to the bunkhouse via the grog shop for a bottle of scotch to soothe our aching limbs.

Sunday morning and climbing with Jesse at Lion Rocks. We turned up to find two instructors with a school group had roped the vast majority of lines on the first level, which caused a little consternation on our part. Jess knew of a line on the second level which we scrambled up to for a play. The kids thoroughly enjoyed this and we were very lucky to have Jesse's local knowledge to work from.

Despite our navigational "error" we've had another brilliant time in North Wales. Next time Tryfan and Glyder Fach, hopefully we'll get the right mountains.

Jesse James' Bunkhouse, a recommendation.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Sat, 24 Aug 2013 20:01:00 +0000

I know what you're thinking. I want to go to Snowdonia with 20 or 30 of my closest friends and spend some quality time walking up and down big things, throw in a spot of rock climbing and a fairly large splash of booze and you're looking at recipe for the perfect weekend.

Hang on, did you say 20 or 30 friends? Yes, well what you need is a bunkhouse. Namely Jesse James Bunkhouse just north of Llanberis, right in the heart of the mountains and crags of the Snowdonia National Park. Coincidentally I've just spent a weekend doing just that all thanks to friend and fellow outdoor enthusiast, Wendy, who decided that the above description sounded like the perfect way to spend her 40th birthday.

Founded by the eponymous Jesse James in 1966 the bunkhouse is the manifestation of Jesse's lifelong philosophy of 'Lo-tech Pragmatism', a kind of make do and mend writ large. It's packed with homemade furniture and memorabilia from a lifetime of climbing and outdoor pursuits in north Wales. The main bunkhouse sleeps up to 25 and has ample room for kit, boots and bags as well as a drying room, a comfortable lounge and a large dining room. The kitchen is well equipped and we had no problem catering for 20 hungry mouths.

There is plenty of garden space for kids and barbecuing, although being North Wales you may need a brolly. Jesse also assures me that there's parking for upto 16 cars with a little driver cooperation. As well as the main bunkhouse there are four other smaller accommodation options varying in levels of luxury.

Jesse himself is a real character and is always around to share a beer and chew the fat, he has a wealth of knowledge of the climbing world and is more than willing to share his expertise. He also makes awesome flapjacks, huge thick, chewy flapjacks, more than able to fuel a busy weekend in the mountains. On our final evening we shared a meal (and a bottle of scotch) with Jesse and sat until late listening to his tales and sharing stories.

I can't think of any other way to recommend Jesse's bunkhouse more highly than just to say use it, it's a wonderful place, full of character and in the perfect location.

A quick plug

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Wed, 16 Jan 2013 12:43:00 +0000

I know its bad form to publish the same post on two blogs however in this case its for a very good cause, below is my latest post from the Arctic Challenge 2013 blog - please give it a read and take a look at our just giving page.

Nearly there....a progress update.

In just over a month we will be on our way to Norway, so I thought an update was in order.

Speaking for myself training and preparation is going well. I have most if not all of the kit I need, including the elusive Bridgedale Summit knee high socks which are apparently the footwear equivalent of rocking-horse shit, I'm sure other socks would suffice, however I used the Bridgedales last time I was in Norway, they served me very well and I had no problems with my feet. I finally tracked them down to Global Adventurer in Forest Row.

The other bit of kit I was determined to source was a Vapour Barrier Liner for my sleeping bag. Last time out I was forced to use a bog-standard, orange plastic survival bag, which was absolutely horrendous to sleep in. This time I've managed to source a Rab VBL from a nice man on UK Climbing.

Training too, is going well. Since October I've really knuckled under and have been in the gym a lot, so much so that one of the comedians I work with has changed my phone number to the extension in the gym. According to Runkeeper I've cycled, cross-trained, rowed and run nearly 300kms and lifted a cumulative weight of over 66 tons. I have to say I'm feeling pretty damn good and am certainly fitter than I was when I last travelled in Norway.

Fran too, has been hard at it and puts my mediocre training to shame, she has been posting her progress to our JustGiving page, why not take a look and donate while you're there.

Our fundraising efforts have been thrown into sharp relief by the SusSAR team SSV (Search Support Vehicle) failing its MOT last week. Although the problems have been fixed and its back on the road, the failure shows that the team desperately need a new vehicle from which to mount our searches and that the money we raise will be going to a very good cause.

Thanks for reading.

Col

The 2012 Hillary Memorial Lecture

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Wed, 30 May 2012 21:02:00 +0000

Last night I had the pleasure of attending the 4th annual Hillary Memorial Lecture, in aid of the Himalayan Trust. Hosting the evening was Rebecca Stephens, the first British woman to stand atop Everest and top of the bill was the British climber Al Hinkes, still the only Brit to have summited all 14 of the worlds 8000m plus peaks*. However, to start the evening Rupert Band, the son of George Band OBE, treated us to a reading. Rupert took the stage, and read to us an extract from his father's diary where George had written about his summit-day experience on Kanchenjunga. There then followed a short film in tribute to George, who died last year. George was the youngest member of the 1953 Everest team and went on to be the first to summit Kanchenjunga along with Joe Brown in 1955, although in deference to local beliefs they did not actually touch the summit. He also went on to be one of the driving forces of the Himalayan Trust and President of both the BMC and Alpine Club. The film was, in most part an interview of Sir Chris Bonington talking about George interspersed with old footage of the man himself. One clip in particular showed how the world of climbing has changed, there was Mr Band being interviewed following Kanchenjunga dressed, smartly, in a suit, shirt and tie without a hint of a sponsors label, bring him forward 50 years and he'd be standing there in technical clothing festooned with labels. Which would we rather I wonder?

Then it was the turn of Mr Hinkes to take to the stage, having had some contact with Al through the twitterverse and having already formed the opinion that he is a thoroughly top chap, I was looking forward to hearing him speak. Al comes across as an affable, likeable Yorkshireman, he is, you get the impression, rather proud of his Yorkshire heritage. His speech although sometimes a little hurried is warm and funny. His lecture, he informed us, would, although taking in each of his fourteen massive achievements, revolve around his ascent of Kanchenjunga. He regards Kanch as the gold medal of high altitude mountaineering, more challenging than K2 and certainly more difficult than Everest.

The lecture took the form of a showing of a programme from ITV filmed mainly by Al himself, with a pause every few minutes for Al to give us an insight into what we had just seen. It almost felt like we had been invited in to the Hinkes' household to view the film and although my initial feeling was "Oh, right, we're just going to watch a TV programme..." the presence of, and explanations from Al, made it an enormously enjoyable, funny and informative evening. There was the obligatory gory shot of an injury, sustained in this case when Al fell from a trail and speared his leg on a branch, he told us that had he fallen just a little further to one side the branch would have speared his scrotum, prompting Al to raise the question,

"Can I say Scrotum in the RGS? Anyway imagine the trouble if it had speared my scrotum and ripped my Gonads off?”

From one whose experience of “high altitude” mountaineering stops some 18000 feet below that of Alan Hinkes achievements, I was enthralled by his story. Over 18 years he battled to achieve his goal, overcoming three major injuries – as well as the branch/nearly scrotum incident, his first attempt at Nanga Parbat ended in prolapsed disc and his first attempt on Kanchenjunga ended with a slip into a crevasse and a broken arm. He is not one for grand gestures, not one for carrying a Union Flag to each summit rather; he carries a picture of his daughter as inspiration to make it down again. He, like Ueli Steck, considers that no mountain is worth a digit, never mind a life.

Al ended his lecture with Whymper’s famous quote,

“Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are nought without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end.”

This sums up my overriding impression from Al Hinkes – there’s always a reason to come back. Thanks Al, a great lecture.

*Al’s 14 8000 footers -

1987 - Shishapangma

1988 - Manaslu

1990 - Cho Oyu

1991 - Broad Peak

1995 - K2

1996 - Mount Everest

1996 - Gasherbrum I

1996 - Gasherbrum II

1997 - Lhotse

1998 - Nanga Parbat

1999 - Makalu

2002 - Annapurna

2004 - Dhaulagiri

2005 - Kanchenjunga

"Runner's High Plus"

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 20:34:00 +0000

I tweeted a question earlier this week - "If runner's have their "high" then what do we climbers have?" We couldn't have "high" even if it hadn't already been taken; it's just too bloody literal. I got a variety of replies including a four tweet epic from Mr NICAS himself, Ian McKenzie, but the basic gist of all the replies was that whatever we call that combination of superhuman and battered-to-hell set of emotions we experience after a session at the crag or after completing a grade-pushing pitch it's definitely a mix of elation at the achievement, the endorphin release from the strenuous exercise and the adrenaline shot of fear. My original question came from having completed my first overhanging lead during an evening at Craggy Island. It wasn’t a tough grade (only a 4) and had it been on less steep ground I'd have danced up it, but, I find overhangs deeply intimidating. They stir something visceral which just makes me want to run and hide. I've got to say it was bloody hard work, definitely not elegant and I made some glaring errors (including z clipping the second quickdraw and having to down climb to rectify) but I got to the top and I felt incredible. By the time Matt had lowered me off I was a quivering, sweaty mess. My legs and arms turned to jelly by the adrenaline and lactic, my mind singing from the endorphins and I was on top of the world. What I was feeling was akin to the "runner's high" but the extra loading of fear turned it into something far more powerful.

It started me thinking of the concept of the "sublime" as described by Robert Macfarlane in his excellent Mountains of the Mind. This concept of sublime is not the modern use of the word so beloved of Loréal and the like where Cheryl Kerl minces about telling us her hair "feels canny sublime, pet" This is the Sublime where you are elevated closer to your respective deity by proximity to the force of nature, the search for this Sublime is the force that drove respectable Victorians to swoon at the sight of a glacier and to haul cases of claret to the summit of Mont Blanc to quaff merrily in sight of their god whilst their toes (and servants) succumbed to frostbite. To my mind this is what we Climbers are experiencing, this "Runner's High Plus" we attain, is actually a little bit of The Sublime.

We know now, in the 21st Century, that this feeling is just the effect of a few molecules of hormone on our bodies and minds, but to reduce this awesome feeling to mere science doesn’t, I’m afraid, do it justice so I’m sticking with The Sublime and I intend to keep grabbing little bits of it whenever I can.

Blaming others for your own stupidity.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 14:26:00 +0000

Warning. This post is a rant.

I have the pleasure of being a member at Craggy Island Climbing Centre in Guildford, it is a great place to go and climb, there is a fantastic atmosphere in the centre, the staff are friendly, helpful and knowledgeable and, thankfully, there are routes that cater to all abilities. I suppose what I’m trying to say is the place has a great vibe and I love climbing there.

Then, yesterday, while taking a break from housework and admin stuff for the search team I went to the UK Climbing website and had a glance through the forums and I came across a thread about this article –

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/law-and-order/9146616/The-5ft-leap-at-Craggy-Island-that-may-end-in-payout.html

I have long been opposed to the “compensation culture”. Don’t get me wrong, the right in law to sue someone for compensation when they, through their error, have caused you harm is an important one and if I was to be injured through the action or inaction of another then I’d be all for exercising that right.

However, what I object to, and boy oh boy do I object, is blaming someone for your own damn stupidity and I’m afraid to say that Ms Pinchbeck is guilty of just that. She chose to take part in an activity that is inherently dangerous (don’t look at me like that, the adrenaline is part of why we do it) and she took a decision to jump from a wall and in doing so broke her ankle. I say again Ms Pinchbeck CHOSE to take part. She didn’t HAVE to.

There is no requirement at Craggy to leave your common sense at the door, no locker in which to pop your innate understanding that “if I fall down, I might hurt myself”. There is, of course, the BMC participation statement writ large –

The BMC recognises that climbing and mountaineering are activities with a danger of personal injury or death. Participants in these activities should be aware of and accept these risks and be responsible for their own actions.

A version of which you have to sign as part of the registration process before climbing, there is no addendum which states

“That is unless I hurt myself, abrogate my own personal responsibility and decide to blame someone else”

The Telegraph article states that Ms Pinchbeck was a keen runner, I ask her, if you’d slipped from the curb whilst out running and caused the same injury who would you have blamed then?

It enrages me that the judiciary appear unwilling to look at these cases rationally and say “Sorry, you were stupid, you made a mistake and now you’re trying to blame someone else, get out of my court room and stop wasting my time”.

This whole sorry episode is indicative of the blame culture, where personal responsibility appears to be a thing of the past and no one is willing to admit that they may have made a mistake or been a tad stupid. So I say lets have a return to common sense, if you climb there is a likelihood that at some point you’re going to injure yourself and it will be no one’s fault but your own, just as there is risk in any sport which involves physical activity. I recently took part in a session of laser tag, outdoors in the woods; I tripped while jumping a log and cracked some ribs, and it was nobody’s fault but mine. I’m not about to start blaming the owner of the site, or the bloke who chopped the tree down or anyone BUT ME.

The people who bring these ridiculous lawsuits because they cannot face taking responsibility for their own actions are setting a terrible and dangerous precedent. Its time Ms Pinchbeck and her ilk took a long hard look at themselves and realised the error of their ways.

I will continue to climb at Craggy, as will I continue to recommend it to anyone, and if they have to raise their prices to pay their insurance premiums, which will inevitably rise, then I’ll pay the extra because it’s a great place and I love climbing, but when I do I’ll be thinking “Thank you Ms Pinchbeck, for making the experience a little less pleasant.”

A Very Gallant Gentleman.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 09:26:00 +0000

Captain Lawrence Edward Grace Oates
Born 17th March 1880
Died 16th March 1912

100 years ago today Captain Oates uttered the immortal line "I am just going outside and may be some time" and left his companions to walk to his certain death hoping that by sacrificing himself he would by some slight chance ensure the safety of Scott, Wilson and Bowers.

Captain Lawrence Edward "Titus" Oates was born on the 17th March 1880 in Putney, London. In 1898, Oates joined the 3rd (Militia) Battalion of the West Yorkshire Regiment. He saw military service during the Second Boer War as a junior officer in the 6th (Inniskilling) Dragoons, having joined in 1900 and been promoted to Lieutenant in 1902, then to Captain in 1906. In March 1901, during the Boer War, he suffered a gunshot wound to his thigh which left it shattered and his left leg an inch shorter than his right leg when it eventually healed.

Oates and his charges

Oates applied to join the Terra Nova Expedition and was accepted on the strength of his experience of animal husbandry gained whilst serving in the Dragoons in order to care for the ponies that Scott intended to use to haul large loads in the initial stages of the expedition, he was later chosen as one of the final five to make the attempt on the pole.

It was on the return journey that Oates began to suffer terribly, his feet became very badly damaged by frostbite and there is suggestion that the old wound to his leg was opened up as a result of scurvy. He was failing rapidly. He was aware that he was causing the team to fall behind schedule and placing the others at greater risk. On the 15th March he requested that they left him behind - they refused - but so severely weakened was Oates that they only managed another few miles before camping.

"A Very Gallant Gentleman"
Artist: James Charles Dollman

On the morning of the 16th March, Oates recognised that without him; Scott, Wilson and Bowers stood a greater chance of survival and so, forgoing the pain of putting his boots on he stated "I am just going outside and may be some time" and walked out into the blizzard. Scott wrote at the time "We knew that poor Oates was walking to his death, but though we tried to dissuade him, we knew it was the act of a brave man and an English gentleman". Although, in the end, Oates sacrifice was made for nought he was without doubt an incredibly brave man. His ultimate sacrifice a shining example of what it is to have courage. Captain Oates' body has never been found.

His famous utterance is oft used in jest but we should all remember the horrendous circumstances under which it was first said and today of all days we should raise a glass to Captain Lawrence Oates, a true hero.

Per Ardua Ad Alta: The Response...

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 09:52:00 +0000

A little over two weeks ago the Daily Mail made a concerted effort to vilify Menna Pritchard for taking her young daughter climbing - the majority of the comments left on the MailOnline website were the worst kind of hateful rubbish we have come to expect from readers of that dreadful rag.

Quite sensibly Menna kept her own counsel and has let the dust settle before writing this considered and eloquent response - Per Ardua Ad Alta: The Response...

As a parent who also takes his children climbing, Menna has my full support. Climbing is a wonderful activity for kids, it teaches self-reliance and problem solving. Possibly more importantly it gets kids outdoors and away from the TV, not to mention the opportunity to spend quality time together as a family.

Menna should not be condemned for what she is trying to do, she is encouraging parents to get outdoors and include their kids in their pastimes. She should be congratulated for her efforts.

Please visit Menna's blog and show her your support. Then grab your kids and get them outdoors.

On the kindness of others.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 12:44:00 +0000

A quick update:

Our two lady runners have now run the marathon, so a massive well done and a huge thank you to them, Rebecca completed her ordeal in 3:48.22 and Bryony in 4:50.29 - both incredibly impressive.

Also, we at SusSAR are very happy to announce that we have been chosen as one of the four official local charities for the 2013 Brighton Marathon - so if you're interested in running for us then get in touch through our website.

Since joining SusSAR I have become acutely aware of the effort made by its members, and the members of the many other ALSAR and MR teams to help other people. We have all joined these organisations because we want to do something for others. What is also apparent is the effect our commitment to these teams has on our loved ones and the sacrifices they in turn make – it is rare that the callout text will wake me in the middle of the night, but it always wakes Mrs. W who then gently elbows me in the ribs to bring it to my attention, this will then prompt me to try and answer the text by randomly punching buttons on the TV remote before waking fully to wonder why the TV is on and tuned to some obscure channel….all of this serves to ensure that Mrs. W doesn’t get quite the nights sleep she desires or deserves, but you know what, she doesn’t moan about it, she accepts that its going to happen now and again, and its happening for the good of others. I’m sure the rest of the team has similar experiences to tell. We, as members of the team, must remember that WE volunteered; our partners, kids, families and friends did not, but without their support we would not be able to do what we do.

Thinking about this has led me to those that support us who have little or no connection to our teams, these people range from those who drop a pound in the collecting tin as they pass, to those that “like” us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter; to people like Gary Shipp, a former member of the team who has moved away to the West Country but once a year comes back to run our Mountain Bike training course for nothing but a warm feeling inside and a few cakes.

Another prime example of the kindness and support that our team does not expect and yet relies on was the efforts of a chap called David Lawton who last year ran the Barns Green Half Marathon in our aid. Now, lets make one thing quite clear, we didn’t ask David to do this; in fact we had no idea who David was at the time and it was only after we contacted him did we discover that he is a Scout Leader and members of SusSAR had given a talk on our work to his Scout group and this had prompted his generosity. He ran his race and raised in excess of £1000 for us, for which we are incredibly grateful.

This in turn brings me onto two brave young ladies, Bryony Olney and Rebecca Nicolson who are running this year’s Brighton Marathon for SusSAR. Neither are members of SusSAR, Bryony lives in the far north (well, Barnsley actually, but to you southerners it might as well be Oslo) and has no connection at all to the team, other than having been originally from Crowborough and therefore a Sussex girl, she responded to our appeal for runners on Twitter. Rebecca has some connection to the team as she is friends with one of our members, but again, like Bryony has no reason to choose us other than through kindness. Both have set up Just Giving pages:

Bryony Olney at Just Giving

Rebecca Nicolson at Just Giving

Please give them a visit and support them, and SusSAR by donating.

Bryony is also writing a Blog sharing her training experiences, it’s well worth a read.

If you would like to assist SusSAR then you can find us at Just Giving or contact us through the fundraising address on our website.

So there you have it, SusSAR and teams like it, could not and would not exist without support from our families, friends and the generosity of the public.

Thank you all.

Captain Robert Falcon Scott CVO

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 10:03:00 +0000

Captain Robert Falcon Scott CVO
6th June 1868 - 29th March 1912

I'm sure that many articles and blog posts will appear discussing the herculean efforts of Scott, Wilson, Oates, Bowers and Evans as 100 years ago today they reached the South Pole.

They will be written by those with far greater knowledge of the subject and individuals involved than I, but I would like to add my voice in tribute to these amazing, fine men. Having travelled in the Arctic and experienced a little of what they endured from the comfortable position of modern clothing, equipment and food, I find myself in awe that they achieved so much. In his excellent biography of Scott, Sir Ranulph Fiennes talks about Scott's detractors and debunks their gross slights against his character, I agree with his assertion that to comment on and criticise Scott then you must have experienced some of what he did.

Their efforts and eventual sacrifice are, without doubt, one of the greatest feats of bravery and endurance ever to happen. Their birth and death days should be celebrated as national occasions and marked on every calendar in the land as it is these men who epitomise the adventurous spirit of all mankind. It is the determination, willpower and must-do attitude of men like Scott and his companions that have taken man to the tops of the highest mountains, the depths of the seas and even to the moon.

For all of this we should hold these men in the highest esteem. A man needs no greater heroes than these.

Another great new Blog from a friend.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 12:20:00 +0000

It seems we're all at it!!
Her Head in the Clouds
Check it out, Karen's made a good thing!

Gear Review - Berghaus Men's Elite Half Zip Jacket

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 08:53:00 +0000

It became apparent during a very wet SusSAR training weekend last July that my 10-year-old Technicals (Blacks own brand) waterproof no longer qualified for the title. It had served me well; it had come with the thickest fleece I’ve ever seen as a removable liner and I’d used both parts in Norway as supplemental layers. The one issue I’d always had with the coat was that even the shell on its own weighed a bleeding tonne (well 980g, anyway) and wasn’t very packable, add in the fleece and the weight trebled and it would easily fill a daypack. I’d binned the fleece a couple of years ago following a bonfire “incident” and now the shell was about as waterproof as a sieve. I tried reproofing it with a spray on Nikwax product but all that achieved was a bad smell, so when I finished a search exercise on the aforementioned training weekend completely soaked through I realised it was time to start looking for a replacement.

I decided on three criteria -

1. It had to be waterproof, windproof and breathable (very breathable, I sweat like a fat lass)

2. It had to be lightweight and packable; I wanted it to hide away in my pack until I needed it.

3. It had to be reasonably priced - I didn’t have £400 lying around to splash out on kit.

The Berghaus Men's Elite Half Zip

I finally (after a few more soakings) got around to buying a Berghaus Elite Half Zip in Size FatBloke…oops, I mean XXL. It cost me £65 from Cotswold Outdoor, on sale from the RRP of £90. It’s advertised on the Berghaus website as “Fast and Light” and it comes in one colour (Black with Orange zips and draw cords). If you want a different colour then you need to be a girl, as the feminine version comes in a fetching shade of brown they’ve called “Pumice”. As the name suggests it’s a smock design and only has one pocket on the left sleeve. It’s made from Berghaus’ own AQ2.5 material, which I imagine is one of the contributing factors to its low price.

My initial reaction when it arrived (very promptly a day later, well done Cotswold) was that it was incredibly light, so light I felt compelled to weigh it (yes, I know, geek) and it came in at 199g, it was also very packable - compressing down to approximately the size of a can of beer. The material feels quite soft but retains a feeling of quality and strength being ripstop. The jacket has a scooped rear hem and the hood is big enough to get a helmet under but can be reduced in volume to hug the head and move with it instead of staying put and blocking your vision when you turn. The hood has a stiffened rather than wired peak but this doesn’t seem to be a disadvantage, it’s also permanent rather than roll away. The half zip is just that making the jacket very easy to get on and off and zips right up to the chin, when done right up with the hood down it nicely pulls the hood in and stops it flapping about. Berghaus describe it as "active fit" so even the XXL doesn't feel like a tent.

As an emergency waterproof, packed away in a work bag or in my search kit the jacket is barely noticeable, the only complaint being that it doesn’t come with its own stuff sack. I’ve had it for about three months now and for the first month due to the unseasonably warm dry weather that’s where it stayed. Then when the mornings became chilly, I used it as an extra layer and recently when it's been both wet and windy its been of put to the test. It's passed that test with flying colours, it is both windproof and extremely waterproof, with water beading and running off. This waterproofing is maintained even at pressure points where the straps of a rucksack sit, nor is there any water ingress at either zip. The lightness, softness and breathability of the material is such that I barely notice I'm wearing it and the drop rear hem seems to prevent it riding up under a pack.

The Berghaus Elite Half Zip is a great jacket and incredible value even at the full RRP of £90.... now, I'm just off to do a rain dance so I've an excuse to wear it, anyone care to join me?

2011 - A look back.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 23:31:00 +0000

With the year ended I thought I’d have a look back at 2011 and a look forward to 2012.

The year didn’t start particularly well, quite apart from the customary hangover caused by the consumption of way too much Linie Aquavit, I was also still recovering from surgery I’d had in October 2010 and I hated my job, hate is something of an understatement, I was desperately unhappy doing it and would have quite happily walked out and not gone back, I don’t know how Mrs. W put up with my constant whinging.

Hang on...its my birthday, why do I have to carry everything...?

Very soon January and February were gone and I was approaching my 35th birthday in March. I recall sitting the night before with Mrs. W in one of our local boozers (The Cage), she having convinced me that she had nothing planned for the next day - even going so far as to plan a quiet walk on the South Downs after a lazy breakfast. So it came as a great shock when she woke me at 0430 the following morning, shoved me into the car and drove to the Brecons for a quick once up Pen Y Fan via Cefn Cwm Llwch as a birthday surprise. I hadn’t noticed that the night before Mrs W had been unusually abstemious while letting me quaff intemperately for fear of raising my suspicions as to her nefarious plans. Consequently the first few uphill (very uphill) miles were done under something of a green cloud. However the rest of the hike was splendid. For those that haven’t done it, the last 10 or so metres to the summit from the north are a bit of a scramble and so it amused me greatly to ascend in hands and knees fashion onto the plateau to the incredulous gazes of those who’d pushed their prams from The Storey Arms. Across we went to Corn Du and back down to the car passing the heart-breakingly sad Tommy Jones’ Obelisk before getting home in time for tea with the Watsons Minor who had spent the day with their grandparents. A great birthday.

Later in March I attended a Lowland Search Technician Course run by UKLSI and achieved my goal of becoming an operational member of SusSAR. Typically, however, I received my first callout the day after the course and couldn’t attend due to work.

"Dad, can we use the handrail?" "No son, we're British..."

April brought with it a much needed break in the form of a trip to Phoenix to visit Mrs. W’s sister. We spent 10 days being complete tourists around Phoenix and Tucson, eating too much, drinking too much and shopping too much. We climbed Camelback Mountain (thoroughly recommended), we visited Tombstone (don’t bother) and Karchner Caverns (brilliant). We went to the brilliant Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum just outside Tucson and stayed for two nights at the Cat Mountain Lodge. We took the kids to watch the Arizona D’backs stuff the San Francisco Giants at Chase Field and I got a tweet on the Jumbotron (#GoDbacks). We even managed to fit in some wall time at AZ on the Rocks and all of it was done in a hired Dodge Charger which fed my inner petrol head.

April also brought a stupid injury when over the course of two weekends climbing and generally buggerring about I managed to ruin my groin putting me out of action climbingwise for 6 weeks. Luckily I managed to push my recovery so by the time we went for our annual week in North Devon at the end of May I was able to get some surfing and hiking in. We were joined by some friends for the first few days of the week, they’d never camped so sleeping in a caravan awning was a new experience for them especially when the wind, shall we say, “Got up…” but they seemed to enjoy it, we got them into wetsuits and into the water and they may even join us again this year.

June brought election to the SusSAR committee and an increased commitment to the team and July brought my first proper search managing to attend after a late shift at work, great fun and successful as the misper was found alive and well. I also engineered a change in role making huge difference to my mental state at work. At the end of August my son managed to break both the bones in his left forearm just after he’d bought himself a climbing harness and just before the first week of Rugby training. Consequently the poor little bugger hasn’t climbed, played rugby or been allowed out at breaktime in school since.

In September and October my daughter made me proud buy choosing to join a climbing club and being annoyingly good at it. I also started to push my grade more and managed my first 6a while making progress with both technique and fear control. I also became an Assistant Beaver (stop sniggering) Leader.

November brought much of the same, more climbing and the SusSAR MTB course. The eleventh month also saw the launch by some friends from the north of PROBalm, a great skin repair product and they’re working on a lipbalm as a follow up product. Good luck to Craig and the guys.

I appear to have worked what seems like the entire month of December including Christmas and New Year, it feels very strange not to have spent the whole time with the family, although I did manage to take the whole family climbing at Craggy Island on the 29th where the kids climbed solidly for four hours, I have high hopes (pun intended) for both of them. It was the first time the Son had climbed since his broken arm and he managed a couple of 5’s, the Daughter seems to improve with every visit to the wall and is learning to have confidence in her ability. The wonderful Mrs. W is happy to belay although I am trying to persuade her that she belongs on the wall rather than just standing at the bottom of it.

What’s to come in 2012? I posted a tweet on the 1st saying that this year I will write more, run more and climb more. I want to write more because I enjoy it and thanks to feedback from you chaps out there apparently I’m not too bad at it. I need to run more as I really need to up my fitness level in the run up to February 2013 when I will be trekking in Norway again, this time in aid of SusSAR (more details later) and I need to climb more because its like crack - great highs and terrible withdrawal……

It’s also Mrs. W’s 40th this year so I suppose I need to do something about that…..any ideas…..anyone…..help…?

The South Downs

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 11:23:00 +0000

A mate of mine, Justin Norman, has started a new blog about the South Downs, take a look, its pretty cool.
The South Downs

Bonita Norris - Ama Dablam

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 18:21:00 +0000

Bonita Norris, the record breaking British Everest summitteer, has written an exceptionally honest blog about her recent climb on Ama Dablam, its really inspirational stuff, read it here - http://bonitanorris.blogspot.com/2011/11/summit-of-ama-dablam-6856m.html

The Eiger - Triumph and Tragedy, an evening at the RGS.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 20:50:00 +0000

The Nordwand

It is some 45 years since John Harlin fell to his death from the Eiger Nordwand in 1966, however the pain and power of the event still looms large in the psyche of Sir Chris Bonington. On Thursday 1^st December I had the pleasure of hearing him speak on the subject at the Royal Geographical Society as part of an event entitled “The Eiger – Triumph and Tragedy”. The evening was staged by The Mountain Heritage Trust, an organisation dedicated to the preservation of our mountaineering history, as their chair said, “We care about your old nuts.” Also on the bill was the quite incredible Ueli Steck, holder of the speed record for a free climb of the Eiger Nordwand, a quite unbelievable 2 hours 47 minutes.

It was only my second visit to the RGS and I still marvel at the history and atmosphere contained within its walls. The bar is situated in the map room and it is difficult not to be overawed by the knowledge that surrounds you. 150 years ago great men stood in this room and laid their plans for the great expeditions of the British Empire. In one corner Livingstone hangs shoulder to shoulder with Captain Scott. In another corner hangs a portrait of Sir John Hunt, leader of the 1953 Everest expedition, brooding over a large model of Everest itself, and all around are drawers filled with the maps these men pored over and themselves created.

Sir Chris spoke first, explaining how the Nordwand had been a constant presence in his formative years as a climber, rearing its face every so often to tempt him. He spoke with great humour and, to be honest, some dodgy accents, on his early attempts with the great Hamish MacInnes and the brusque but utterly dependable Don Whillans. He spoke of his terror at finding himself bivvying below the Difficult Crack with MacInnes while still a schoolboy and he spoke with great eloquence of his and Whillans’ involvement in the rescue of Brian Nally following the death of Barry Brewster on the second ice field, the interview with Brian Nally following the rescue is heartrending.

Finally in 1962 Sir Chris made the first British ascent with Ian Clough, but even this victory was tinged with sadness after two climbers following Clough and Bonington were swept to their deaths by falling rocks. The final chapter of Sir Chris’s talk was given over to telling the story of John Harlin and his team’s attempt to climb the Nordwand by a direct route. Harlin’s initial plan was to climb the route Alpine style, however this changed to siege tactics when it was discovered that they were competing with a German team. As has been documented many times John Harlin fell to his death when a fixed rope parted. Sir Chris was one of the first to Harlin’s body. It is his emotion when reliving this, the pain obviously still so real and raw, his voice faltering and tears falling that will stay with me. His presentation was modestly delivered, illustrated with a few photographs and no fuss; his tale of triumph and tragedy needed little else.

After a brief interval where the great Doug Scott auctioned various pieces of Eiger memorabilia with expert comic timing, it was the turn of Ueli Steck to speak. Ueli isn’t a huge guy and dressed in a black t-shirt he seemed to blend into the stage but his quiet manner and soft spoken, dry, sharp wit hide an athlete of immense power and skill. He joked to start with that the only reason he makes the incredible speed ascents, for which he is rightly famous, is that his wife likes him home for lunch. He makes light of the training and commitment involved and then explains that he’d like to show us some “nice” pictures and so we sit enthralled by videos of his various ascents to a pounding rock soundtrack (I wonder if it’s the first time a guitar solo has been heard in those hallowed halls?). We travel with him to the Nordwand where he seemingly effortlessly runs up 70 and 80 degree faces punching his axes into the ice like a boxer before sprinting along the ridge to the summit, then on to an onsight climb of the Colton-Macintyre route on the Grandes Jorasses and up the north face of the Matterhorn, all three faces in around seven hours of climbing, before he whisks us off to the Himalaya and his stupendous 10.5 hour ascent of Shishapangma. He brings us back to earth with the revelation that less than a month after Shishapangma he reached the third step at 8600m on Everest only to turn back as “no mountain is worth losing fingers or toes for…” Good sense indeed. Steck is an incredible climber truly deserving of the epithet “The Swiss Machine”.

The evening ended with a Q&A session and finally an array of Nordwand summiteers lined up on the stage, but what still, and will always stick with me is the emotion attached by Sir Chris Bonington to the awesome and terrible North face of the Eiger.

SusSAR Mountain Bike Training

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 08:51:00 +0000

On Saturday 28/11/2011 I had the pleasure of attending a Mountain Bike Training Course run by a chap called Gary Shipp on behalf of SusSAR. These courses have been running for about the last four years and were started after three mountain bikes were donated to the team by the family of a misper.

The course is a bespoke training package designed to produce riders who are confident on a bike and how that can be integrated into a SAR situation. Gary is a former member of SusSAR and is the driving, or should that be riding, force behind the training package, he's since moved away but comes back once in a while to deliver this course and does it all out of the kindness of his heart

In my youth I did quite a bit of biking around the villages in Durham and Northumberland where I grew up, normally downhill stuff involving falling off and multiple contusions. I’ve cycled on and off ever since, including a course at work, but I’ve certainly never been what could be called a serious cyclist.

The venue for the event was Litlington Village Hall in deepest darkest Sussex on the edge of Friston Forest. Why there? Because Friston Forest holds a secret, it contains the 1986 World Championship Mountain Bike Course and is therefore the perfect place to give three, middle aged, (and I'm being generous there) blokes’ heart attacks on two wheels.

The day started gently enough with tea, doughnuts and a tour of the bikes (Specialized Hard-tails…..see I almost sound like I know what I’m talking about). The basic gist being how to ensure the bike is safe to get on and ride, In fact everything we would do over the day, would be aimed at two things,

1. Our own safety.

Dropping into the Buttock Clencher

2. That nothing would distract from the search.

Before long we were out on the bikes, Gary told us that the aim of the afternoon session was to raise our technical riding skills and have some fun. Almost immediately, as we crunched gears and strained at the pedals up the first incline, I realised my CV fitness was nowhere near adequate for the day. But after every climb came the payoff, a fun, sometimes frightening, always exhilarating descent through the trees and very soon the skills of my youth came back. The highlight of the day was a very steep descent with a long, fast run out, the path strewn with slippery leaves and shot through with roots was a real buttock clencher. As the day wore on and the ascents became fewer and the descents more frequent I really began to enjoy myself, even as the light began to fade the enjoyment did not.

After a return to the village hall for a little more maintenance we set out in the pitch black on a simulated search, the bikes now equipped with incredibly powerful lights from Exposure Lights, which made a huge difference. After a couple of hours of putting it all into practice we found our missing person, the dashing and handsome (his words) John Griffiths, crouched in a bush, and it was tea and medals all round.

Huge thanks to Gary for a great day; he shared his enthusiasm and expertise with us for the price of a doughnut and even gave me the shirt (well, Jacket) off his back.

As well as being a top chap and sometime MTB instructor, Gary also runs a great website Car Free Walks.

Gear Review - PROBalm

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 16:35:00 +0000

Update 03/06/2012

A quick note to say that following my inadvertently crisping up my scalp, forehead, nose and ears in the Devonian sunshine yesterday, I have found yet another use for PROBalm. It works wonders for sunburn, I warmed the puck in my hand first to soften and then rubbed a good layer into my lobster-like cranium. Very soothing and continued pain relief after 6 hours. Good work chaps!

Update 18/11/2011

The finished product.

This morning I received the finished product and I'm NOT disappointed, the guys at PROBalm have toned the aroma down slightly making it fresher with more of a definite citrus note. Its also a tiny bit softer making it easier to absorb into your skin. Packaging wise, I can see why they are calling it a puck. Colours are black and yellow, presumably a nod in the direction of the bees and the label styling is quite retro-surfer. Certainly not something I'd be ashamed to have roll out of my kitbag in the changing room.

Importantly the container screws shut on a good, secure long thread so you won't end up with your puck of PROBalm rolling around loose in your bag gathering sock fluff and chalk.

About a month ago I was contacted via a friend on Twitter by a new start up company from Saltburn in the North East called PROBalm and asked if I would test their product. These guys have created a skin repair product aimed at those of us who like to batter our skin with every element we can find.
Being a bit of a kit whore I, of course, said yes. They duly sent me a prototype "puck" of their product. This review is therefore based on that prototype and except in photographs, I haven't seen the finished product.
Lets start by saying that apart from a bit of aftershave or moisturiser on my scalp after I've shaved what little hair I have left off, I don't have a daily skin care routine, I'm not that metrosexual. However I am, what is commonly termed as a "clumsy bastard" and cannot seem to take part in any activity without removing skin from some part of my body. I cannot cook without burning myself, I cannot climb without tearing great strips of skin from my hands, I can't even go for a run without encountering some sort of hostile, thorny plant. So over the last month I've used PROBalm quite a bit.
Initial impressions when it came out of the packet was of a hard yellow/brown substance with a strong but pleasant smell, a complaint I have had in the past with moisturising products is the lingering smell of sick they leave on my hands (I know, weird). PROBalm on the other hand smells good, I like the fact that its a hard substance and you can scrape lumps of it off to lather generously over a sore spot or just rub it in your hands to leave a thin easily absorbed coating. I'm hoping the final product retains this versatility.
PROBalm does seem to work on lots of different things, the night before it arrived I'd been climbing at Bowles Rocks near Tunbridge Wells and had scraped the skin off my shin when my foot popped off a hold (damn that Sandstone) so I took the plunge and applied a generous scraping of PROBalm to the injured area and it took the sting right out of the injury. I've also used it on burns and scalds from cooking (I do tend to get a bit Ramsey in the kitchen, and ingredients can fly) and not only does it protect and soothe the affected area but it does seem to accelerate the healing process. I've even used it to treat spots (yes, 35 years old and still getting zits) and it nicely reduces the inflammation. Obviously these effects may not work for everyone.
All in all the chaps at PROBalm have done a damn fine job on their stuff, they tell me its a natural product made from, amongst other things, Propolis wax, hence the PRO part of the name, which has long been held to have beneficial properties.
You can follow the PROBalm team here on twitter or visit their website by clicking the PROBalm logo on the right of this page.
I look forward to testing the finished product which is launched on the 8th November and will of course update this review when I do.

Sussex Search and Rescue (SusSAR) – A personal view.

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 09:40:00 +0000

At the end of 2009 I was looking for a new hobby when I saw on the news the International rescue teams heading to Italy following an earthquake in the Abruzzi region and thought "I could do that". Unfortunately when I looked into it with my employer I was told that I'd have to take any time abroad as annual leave or unpaid leave, so depressingly I abandoned that plan, fast forward two weeks and one cold, wet, Saturday morning I went shopping in East Grinstead Sainsbury's

SusSAR's Mascot

and stood just inside the front door were two chaps wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the words "Sussex Search and Rescue" my initial thought, and I'm sure that of many other people was

"Why the hell does Sussex need Search and Rescue? I mean it's not exactly mountainous is it? It's just Crawley, Brighton and a few fields after all.”

I expressed this thought to Mrs. W as we started shopping and she said "Well why don't you go and ask what its all about" I'm pretty sure she's regretted saying that ever since..... I went back and spoke to one of the chaps who did a damn fine job of persuading me that getting up at two in the morning to go and bash about in the woods in the rain was fun and off I went with a leaflet and the web address in my pocket.

At home I did a little more research and it turns out that the majority of counties in the UK have a search and rescue team of some sort whether it be a Mountain Rescue team or as in the case of Sussex and many others a Lowland team. The Lowland teams are governed by an organization called ALSAR (Association of Lowland Search and Rescue) and they in turn by the UKSAR Group chaired by the department of transport which includes all the recognised search and rescue practitioners, Police, Military and Volunteer. (Can anyone call themselves a Search and Rescue team? Yes, they can, however will anyone use them? Probably not.) These volunteer teams are set up in conjunction with the local Constabulary and can only be called out by them, other teams have evolved out of different backgrounds, SEBEV (South East Berkshire Emergency Volunteers) have grown from what was a Cold War organisation, the original purpose of which was to provide aid in the event of a Soviet attack, hence their headquarters is in a fallout shelter, with the diminishing of that particular threat they have diversified into Search and Rescue.

SusSAR were formed in 2002, others, like Surrey Search and Rescue (SurSAR) are more recent additions to the SAR family having only formed in 2010.

So a couple of months after my encounter with SusSAR in Sainsbury’s and having filled in an expression of interest form I found myself at a new members evening at the Black Lion in

Death by PowerPoint?

Patcham just north of Brighton suffering what can only be described as death by PowerPoint at the hands of the then chairman, where a lot of questions including the "why?" were answered. It turns out that Sussex is one the most heavily wooded counties in the UK,

"So what?" you might think, "surely the infra-red camera on the police helicopter can see through trees?"

Well, yes it can but it relies on the thing it's looking for being hotter than the surrounding stuff, which is fine when the thing you're looking for is a hot, sweaty criminal who is legging it from the old bill, but when the object of the search is a sixty year old grandmother who went out for a windy walk on the downs six hours ago and hasn't come home for tea then there's a fair chance that her external body temperature is pretty close to the ambient temperature of her surroundings and to search for her you going to need people, as many as you can get and they are going to need to know what they are doing when it comes to searching, and that means training.

“Hang on! Training? Aren’t you all just walking in a line across a field prodding the ground with sticks, I’ve seen it on the news, you don’t need any training for that!”

A team of four receive a briefing from their Team Leader

Ah yes, the walking in a line with sticks thing, that’s all well and good if you’re looking for the carving knife that Mrs. X used to dispatch the dastardly Mr. Y who I’m sure was very deserving of her ministrations but if its that bloke who went out ten hours ago on his mountain bike and hasn’t come back for breakfast that you’re searching for, then its about as much use as a chocolate teapot. Mainly because it isn’t quick enough but also it just doesn’t cover enough ground. As I have since found out on various training evenings and weekends, the science of search is mind-boggling and relies, rather coldly, on statistics and the acceptance that we simply aren’t going to find everyone we go out looking for. However the tactics and skills we are taught and use give us the best probability of finding the majority of missing persons, or in SAR parlance Mispers. So you wont see us marching in lines across fields.

If you do see us, you’ll see us in teams of four moving quickly across the landscape, searching sectors that have been set out by our search controllers working with Police Search Advisors taking into account the statistics gathered over years of searches and the landscape we’re in. You may see us working with other teams (Lowland Search Dogs - Sussex, SurSAR, Hantsar) as we all help each other and train together. We’re able to do this successfully because we’re all trained to the same syllabus.

We're all trained to the same syllabus

You may even hear us laughing and joking as we go, because, believe it or not, we’re probably enjoying what we are doing. I hasten to add that this in no way reflects our attitude

So, who are SusSAR? Well, we are from all walks of life, everyone from students to the retired, teachers to engineers, cops to farm secretaries. We have one thing in common, we’re volunteers. Why, you may ask, do we volunteer to get woken in the middle of the night, don rustly nylon clothing, drive half way across the county and tramp around in the woods for hours? A couple of reasons – there’s the stock answer – “Because I want to help and give something back to the community” – then there’s the answer I gave when asked why at the new starters evening – “Cos it’s a great excuse to buy Gucci outdoor kit”. There are those that join for the perceived glory, they don’t last long, and there are those that see it as a different hobby.

Some of the team at the Seaford Triathlon

No matter what the reason for joining, we all learn very quickly that what SusSAR do is bloody hard work. Not only are we committing ourselves to the hours of searching, there is also the fundraising aspect. SusSAR is entirely funded by donations; we receive no central funding whatsoever. Consequently many of our Saturdays are given up to standing outside supermarkets with collecting tins, of acting as marshals for events where the organisers then make a donation, or standing on stalls at country fairs to raise awareness of the team. It costs about £12000 a year to keep the team on the road, everything from fuel for our search support vehicle to uniform for the troops.

When I joined I didn’t know what to expect, there was a great deal of stress put on fitting in with the team, which I found a little overpowering to start with, I soon came to realise the importance of teamwork when its pitch dark and you’re in the middle of nowhere 60 miles from home. Now nearly two years down the line I’m proud to say that I’m a fully operational member of the team, I’ve made good friends and intend to carry on learning, I’m doing a mountain bike searching course in a few weeks time and searching.

We SAR types have a saying “The Misper comes first.” That is the ethos that runs through everything we do, our training, the decisions (sometimes difficult) that we make, the fundraising we do and the lives we lead.

SusSAR were Charity of the year 2010/2011 at Sainsbury's Horsham

Can you do anything to help? Yes is the simple answer. You can join up – click here for a list of lowland teams, or here for a list of Mountain teams, if you ever see us standing outside your local supermarket with a collecting tin drop a quid in the pot or you could undertake a sponsored event for us, a friend of SusSAR has just run the Barns Green Half Marathon on our behalf and we have two fabulous ladies running the Brighton Marathon for us next April, if you have any ideas, get in touch through our website.

Gear review - Rab Generator Vest

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 11:18:00 +0000

I’ve had my Generator Vest for just over 6 months now so thought it was due a review. I’d been lusting after some sort of insulating jacket or gilet since I’d started climbing and joined SusSAR, I wanted something I could throw on when standing around at the end of a search or exercise to take the chill of inactivity off or when standing at the bottom of a crag as the sun went down. Whatever I chose needed to be light and packable, my experience in Norway has taught me that I’m definitely a layering kind of guy, so I wanted something that was going to sit in the bottom of my rucksack and not get in the way until needed. I decided I wanted a vest style as I wanted to maintain maximum movement in a climbing situation.

I looked at a few different products, from the obvious - The North Face Nuptse, to the obscure - the Keela Titan gilet. I knew I wanted to avoid down fill - perfectly fine in the crisp, dry, brittle cold of the Arctic, not much use in the damp cold of the South of England - oh how I laugh when I see a fashion victim in collapsed down in the middle of a rainy London. Having decided on a synthetic fill, I went to Rab to see what they did, I like Rab kit having used a down pull-on and expedition windsuit in Norway and I already owned a pullover fleece which is bombproof. Mrs W bought me the Generator Vest for my birthday from www.mountainleisureperth.com I’m not sure what she paid at the time but they have them for around £65 at the moment.

I have the XL (Fat git) in Black which weighs in at 285g. It has a Primaloft fill with a Pertex Quantum shell which makes it windproof and water resistant, however even wet the Primaloft remains warm. It has three pockets - two handwarmer just above the hip and a napoleon into which the vest can be packed away. It also has a loop for clipping onto a harness. The vest stays in the bottom of my rucksack and gets regular use mainly as an extra layer on chilly evenings on the way home from work. Despite the constant battering it gets from being dragged in and out of my rucksack and packed and unpacked its still pristine and showing no sign of wear. To be entirely honest it’s a bit of a luxury item but I’ve lost count of the number of times it’s been a welcome extra layer at the end of a search or a long hike. All-in-all it’s a great bit of kit and I’d recommend it.

Fingers crossed for a long, hard winter so it gets properly tested.

The North Downs Way: Reigate Hill to Box Hill 27/08/2011

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 15:51:00 +0000

On Saturday 27/08/2011 we went for a walk on the North Downs, to be precise, The North Downs Way. Not the whole thing mind you, just the section from Reigate Hill to Box Hill. We've been, as Bill Bryson would term it, section hiking the trail for the last two years with the kids and Mr. and Mrs. D - the in-laws, doing short sub-10 mile stretches, two or three times a year. At 150 miles long it's going to take us a while, we've probably managed 30ish miles so far, but we're doing it this way to get the kids used to longer and longer days of hiking. So, whereas the first few sections came in at under 5 miles, Saturday was an 8.5 miler. It's also a gentle way to do it, never that far from civilisation, so a pub lunch is always an option, more of pub lunches later.

The planning for these jaunts always begins with epic whinging on the part of my son who claims not to like walking, but inevitably ends up thoroughly enjoying the day, and so it was that on Saturday morning there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth when he decided he was staying at home. As he is only 9 (going on 16) this is not an option so he is persuaded into his boots and off we go. A car is first dropped at the foot of Box Hill in the Stepping Stones car park then we all pile into one car, legally I assure you, and we head back to the car park marked on Mr. D's, OS map.

Unfortunately this map was printed in 1995, so the magnetic declination wasn't the only thing well off, turning to the maps he'd also printed from memory map we discovered that sometime in the last sixteen years the car park had migrated four hundred yards south where it was now enjoying a splendid view over Reigate, Redhill and beyond. On arrival we discovered a veritable theme park as far as National Trust car parks go - cafe, toilets and even deck chairs - it was all we could do to keep Mrs. D settling in for the day.

And we're off and looking at the sky I make the decision to leave my waterproof in the car, I say waterproof, I'm not sure it qualifies anymore, it's ten years old, leaks and is about as breathable as a black bin bag. I'll rephrase that - looking at the sky and seeing it's blue and cloudless, I leave my third layer in the car.

The Fort, looking South - Casemate far right.

Our first stop was Reigate Hill Fort, built in the 1800s at a time when confidence in the Royal Navy was at a low ebb and fear of French invasion at a high.

Peering through the window of the Tool Store

It is one of thirteen forts built to the south of London; these forts were not designed to be heavily defended castles but more resupply points for mobile units of soldiers.

The Magazine

Having said that, the earthworks are pretty impressive and the buildings, Magazine, tool store and Casemate, still exist, although they are locked up and one has to be satisfied with looking through the windows.

Between the tops of Reigate Hill and Colley Hill is what the National Trails website calls Reigate Temple, although this is the only place I can find it called this. Other sites I have found refer to it as the Inglis Memorial. Lieutenant Colonel Sir Robert William Inglis donated it to the Borough of Reigate in 1909. I am struggling to find any information on Lt. Col. Inglis, but his memorial is little gem, just take a seat inside and look up and there is a beautiful mosaic ceiling depicting the celestial realm.

The Inglis Memorial

It was originally a drinking fountain for horses on the original route over Reigate Hill, this got me thinking about how quickly society can change - in 1909 the motor car was still a rare thing, no one even considered that we would need a vast road around London carrying cars at <ahem> 70 mph and yet just 102 years later the old main route over the downs into Reigate is a footpath and from that footpath you can hear a constant, if distant roar, like the crashing of a waves on rocks that is the sound of hundreds of cars a second passing on the nearby M25.

The Coal Tax Post

Moving on west from the Inglis Memorial the ridge of the Downs curves south west and the views toward Dorking are superb. Brambles, which, on Saturday were fruiting nicely, border the trail but I'm not sure how many berries were left by the time the kids had grazed their way along the hillside. The trail then plunges into the woods, woods that are mainly made up of Yew, Ash and Hazel, some of the specimens of Yew are ancient and have been shaped by the ages into incredible forms. About a mile further on we find a curiosity at a junction where our path meets one heading North towards Mogador. Leaning at an angle is a cast iron post, painted black and White with the shield of the City of London embossed on to it and a series of numbers and letters.

It almost looks like a fancy mile marker post but the inscription appears meaningless, I take a photo in my iPhone and post it to Twitter asking for suggestion and very soon three chaps have come back to me - it's a Coal Tax post. These posts were erecting in the 1850's in a ring around London marking the point at which commodities (such as coal) were taxed on entering the City of London. There are a few examples left of these posts and we discover another a few hundred yards further on.

The trail then takes a left turn and we descend to the foot of the downs, knowing full well that we'll only have to climb to the top again. Walking along the bottom of the downs and looking up I can see the ridges formed when soil is washed down the steep face by rain and then a large bird of prey catches my eye as it skims over the scrub, it looks to be a Buzzard and soars lazily along before alighting on a tree branch just outside of the effective range of the lens on my Nikon.

We then begin another ascent and come to a T junction where the fingerboard instructs us to turn right in order to continue on the North Downs Way, as we turn I feel a few spots of rain and begin to think that leaving the “third layer” behind was a bad idea (yes, I know, you should always carry a waterproof), however five minutes sheltering under a particularly impressive Yew and the skies cleared.

Just north of Betchworth Station the path comes out onto Pebblehill Road which despite its seemingly tranquil, rural location was actually rather busy and great care had to be taken with the little ones as the footpath is a tad thin on occasion. The stretch of roadside walking is only about half a mile, downhill, I hasten to add - in other words, there’s another steep climb coming, and then a right turn takes you a little country lane flanked by houses and back onto the footpath proper. Passing the old Betchworth Lime works on the left with its impressive brick limekiln tower and ascending up to the top of the old quarry provides another stunning view and an information board showing the various species of local flora and fauna.

Quick's Grave

At the top of this latest rise is a strange sight, a grave. The inscription reads –

“QUICK”

6/9/36 – 22/10/1944

An English Thoroughbred

Although if you look carefully it would appear that a number existed before the 6 of the first date, this seems to have eroded away over the years. My first thought was that the grave was that of a house, however a little research reveals that it is actually the final resting place of a Greyhound, to be precise, the favourite Greyhound of the wife of a Mr. Barnholdt, a Danish immigrant and owner of the land at the time.

Soon after this the question of lunch arose, the walk had so far taken a little longer than planned, partly due to a navigational misadventure where it appeared a fingerboard had been tampered with (we were never lost, we had just misplaced our position). The original plan was to complete the walk, jump in the Landy and drive to a pub, however when the newer map was consulted we saw a pint pot about a mile from the top of Box Hill and not far of the path, we decided that we’d investigate this as a source of sustenance. Seeing that it was not present on the 1995 map, I had already concluded that it wouldn’t be the stone-floored, low-ceilinged ye olde hostelry of my dreams but imagine my surprise when I stumbled out of the woods into the car park of a Smith and Western American South-West themed restaurant. Nosebag was needed so we piled in rucksacks and walking poles all and settled down to all things deep-fried and burger-like. The kids, of course, loved it, and although a little slow, the service were good and friendly. The food was pretty good as well and from someone who’s spent a little time in the south-west US its not a million miles away from authentic especially when washed down with a couple of Coronas. I still can’t escape from the nagging unreality of taking a break from our walk in the Surrey Hills to have lunch in a wild-west jailhouse though.

The view from the top looking South

An hour and half later we waddle out of the restaurant and back onto the trail where it takes a mere 20 minutes to drag our distended stomachs to the top of Box Hill where, by now, there is glorious sunshine and the view south is stunning. We pause for a few moments to enjoy the view and take the obligatory trig point photos before beginning the descent to the car park.

Unsurprisingly the path to the Stepping Stones car park is signposted as the Stepping Stones Path; which makes navigational choices a doddle. Strangely it hasn’t dawned on me that a Stepping Stones Path leading to a Stepping Stones Car Park may at some point involve Stepping Stones and so when we encounter the river and its single line of stepping stones they come as something of a surprise. Son bounces across the line of wet concrete pillars with little concern and I follow, the water looks pretty deep at the stones, looking upstream one can see the river bed through the clear water, but not under the stones, where the water is murky and the bottom invisible. Fifty yards later we’re back at the car.

So there we are, another section done, 8 and a bit miles, the kids have done really well and we’ve all enjoyed ourselves. Great views, reasonable weather and good company, that’s what its all about, isn’t it?

Fear of Failing or Failing from Fear?

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 19:36:00 +0000

I am something of a failure.

There, I said it.

On a number of occasions in the last year I have failed to achieve something through fear, most notably last year, while in Snowdonia I failed to reach the summit of Tryfan. It wasn’t through lack of fitness, or desire to reach the top and leap, gazelle-like, from Adam to Eve (or is it Eve to Adam, I forget) no, it was a simple case of getting about three quarters of the way up the north ridge, looking up at the wall of rock that remained and my bottle falling out of my arse.

I have always been afraid of heights. Always.

8 years old, school trip to Durham Cathedral. Climb to the top of the tower. Going up the spiral staircase I can feel the tower swaying – it’s not swaying and unless a major earthquake hits Durham it never will – but I can feel it swaying all the same. Get to the top. Refuse to go anywhere near the parapet. Miss out on view of Durham.

Two years later, 10 Years old. Family trip to Richmond in North Yorkshire. My Dad drags me to the top of the Castle Keep to cure my fear. It doesn’t. The Keep is only 100ft high. I still hear the screaming when I close my eyes.

In three visits to Paris I have never managed higher than the Second floor of the Eiffel Tower.

Ski lifts – usually these delightful contraptions skim along a mere 20-30ft above the heads of the merry crowds below, however there is (or was, its been 10 years) one lift in Teton Village that suddenly takes off and soars up a vertical cliff face, I have travelled on it once, and I tried to get off halfway. Had it not been for Mrs W halting my progress I would now be a greasy red smear on that cliff face.

The London Eye fills me with dread, and a sense that it would be an enormous waste of money; as I would inevitably spend the entire revolution gibbering, face down in the centre of the pod.

I know it’s a cliché but I started climbing thinking it would maybe finish what my dad had tried to start and that by exposing myself (not that like you perverts!) to my aversion would rid me of the fear.

It hasn’t.

What it has done is teach me, to an extent, to control it. It still surfaces now and again, I climbed last Wednesday and tried to lead on an overhang, I got three clips off the ground and started to struggle. All I needed to do was bring a foot up onto a feature and step up bringing the next hold and clip into reach. But I couldn’t do it, then I realised, I wasn’t afraid of the height or the fall particularly. I was afraid of not doing it, of failing.

I look back at my failure on Tryfan last year and thinking about it, I realise I wasn’t afraid of the height; in fact I was sitting on a nice flat bit at the time, it was looking up and thinking what if I go further and then find I can’t do it and get stuck. Failure.

So now I’m afraid of failing, here we go again……

Scratching the itch

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 20:38:00 +0000

01/08/2011

What's this? A Monday off instead of the normal Saturday or Sunday? Feels strange, I'll tell you what it actually feels like, a mini holiday. I'm sure it won't last and very soon it'll become just part of the routine. However yesterday, as the kids and the lovely Mrs W are on summer holiday we went off to scratch daddy's itch i.e. a bit of outdoor climbing, due to work and time commitments I haven't been outdoors since the groin strain.

Stone Farm is a cracking little spot a couple of miles southwest of East Grinstead in Sussex, south facing with some tree cover so our own peculiar local brand of friable sandstone dries nice and quickly and there's shade for when you get a little too warm. When we got there there was one other car in the little parking area and four lads playing on the Inaccessible Boulder.

Me on The Inaccessible Boulder earlier last year.

We basically had the place to ourselves, I had my mind set on two routes Remote and Pine Buttress. Remote was first, set the anchor up around the convenient tree some kind soul had placed at the top, then off with Mrs W on the belay. The first few moves were relatively easy, but the crux comes about three quarters of the way up where a thin vertical crack goes to the top. So I jam the fingers of both hands into the crack and walk my feet up the wall before jamming the toes of my right foot into the bottom of the crack and stand up too reach the top - unfortunately this is where I ran out of holds and spent a little time slapping ineffectually at the rock before hauling myself inelegantly over the top on my belly.

The kids then decided they wanted to do Slab Direct, a 4a with some reachy moves - well, reachy if you're a 4'4" 8 year old. It took them both a while to get off the ground but they both did really well and topped out, then both decided on Pine Crack, lots of jamming of feet into the crack ensued and bearing mind I'm too tight to buy them proper stickies due to the rate at which kids feet grow, they both did really well on what is quite a technical route.

Then onto Pine Buttress for me, standing back and looking, it seemed to have a number of nice juggy holds. However these holds turned out to be uniformly shallow, I'm talking first and second joint shallow, which for me is verging on unclimbable, in fact, even two months ago I wouldn't have even considered trying it. It took me a couple of goes to get off the ground, but I wasn't going to be beaten and I managed to thug my way up - cue an enormous sense of achievement.

All through this sunny, warm, nay hot morning Mrs W. had patiently belayed all three of us, never moaning always encouraging, she'd even packed a cool bag full of snacks and cold drinks....and she's not even particularly keen on climbing.

Col

Pops and Tweaks

noreply@blogger.com (Col Watson) — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 20:04:00 +0000

19/05/2011

Yes, that's the whole of my thigh!

I’ve just found out that I cannot climb for about 4 – 6 weeks. It all started on the last Bank Holiday Monday, I was climbing at our local crag and trying a new route (Stone Farm Crack, Stone Farm, Sussex) and I was working on the start of the route. I was trying to follow the rules; technique rather than relying on strength, trying to use my feet properly – you know, everything the experts tell you to do.

Unfortunately it wasn’t working for me that day and having slipped four or five times I lost my rag and thugged the start, in doing so I felt a little pop, one could say a tweak, at the top of the inside of my left thigh, I thought to myself “Oof, that smarts a touch” shrugged it off and <ahem> danced to the top of the route with all the elegance of a mountain goat (think an arthritic old billy in his latter years).

Fast forward a week to the following Friday evening and I’m at Harrison’s Rocks near Tunbridge Wells for the first time, and having a lovely time trying some new routes when just as I’m topping out I manage to leave a foot behind (boy-o-boy are those new 5.10’s sticky!!) and sure enough there’s another tweak, not to say wrench, in that left thigh. Luckily I was at the top as there was going to be no effortless waltz up for me this time. I walked off the top and belayed my mate, all the time I could feel the throbbing in my groin getting bigger and bigger <you boy, at the back, yes you, stop sniggering>

By the time I was getting out of my mate’s car an hour later I was ready to reach for the Vitamin I, the next morning I got out of bed and it felt like my left leg had been shortened by three inches but I thought “Hey, I’ll be okay, it’ll walk off, it’s no biggie…”, so four hours later having limped round Bluewater and Decathlon looking for a harness for Mrs. W I find myself in my sister-in-law’s back garden having an anesthetic beer when a rugby ball is introduced into the afternoon’s equation. I distinctly remember saying to Mrs. W “Don’t let me run around, it would be silly”.

And yet ten minutes later I’m charging around like a bleedin’ eejit, then its Col goes one way and Col’s left leg went the other way and Col ends up sat on his ‘arris in the middle of the lawn holding back the tears cos this time its not a “wrench”, it’s not a “tweak” and its certainly not a freaking “pop”, it’s a strain, a bloody great groin strain.

Over the last week a bruise has formed covering most of the inside of my thigh which is an incredible colour and the pain hasn’t diminished much despite icing and painkillers so I decided this morning that I’d go to the doctor’s. After a quick exam (much prodding of tender areas and whimpering from me) the doc announces that I’ve torn the muscle and some blood vessels and it’s going to be 4 – 6 weeks before it mends fully. Gutted. So, no climbing for me. Double-gutted.

Hopefully you’re reading this thinking what a twonk, an absolute pillock, a bloody fool – that’s what I want, I want you, the reader to take from this one lesson - warm up, stretch and warm down properly, hands up all of you who’ve heard yourselves say “The walk in is a warm up” or “It’s just a quick climb, I’ll be fine”, well take it from me, it’s important and I will be doing it next time I climb……in a sodding month.