My intention is to make Friday = Fun Day. So any thing you think of, vaguely photographic, but sort of amusing, or just a bit odd, start a thread here, in Layback Cafe.
This is my offering for this week
It was maybe forty-odd years ago, myself and a couple of mates decided to go hill walking one weekend in the Lake District. Dave had been there many times before, and Chris and I had rambled around Dartmoor and Exmoor.
After almost a day travelling, we got there. This was a few years before the motorways had reached 'up-north', and we were living in Plymouth, practically the other end of the known world. We found a camp site, crashed out, and the next day we set out, with our ordnance survey maps, to conquer Helvelyn. This involved a walk along the ridge of rock known as Striding Edge, The day was very, very misty, I guess the visibility was about ten to twenty feet. From memory, Striding Edge is about a foot wide, fifty miles long, with shear drops on each side. Our progress was slow, and for the couple of us less experienced walkers, a bit worrying. There were one or two memorials on the way, to folk who had fallen over the edge, and never been found alive.
Anyway, we eventually reached the summit, and crouching down, behind the wind shelter, opened the Kendal Mint, brewed some tea, and had a minor celebration. We felt pretty well pleased with ourselves.
After about ten minutes, a black Labrador dog came sniffing around, then another. We got up to look for the owners. We found another group of about a dozen climbers, and a couple more dogs, just arriving. We started chatting to them, saying how difficult the climb had been, since it was so misty, we could hardly see our feet. We learnt that they had left well after us, and by comparison, they must have almost run up the hill. We also found out that their dogs were guide dogs, and that most of the group were blind. Somehow, we felt we had not achieved quite so much.
Best wishes,
Ray
This is my offering for this week
It was maybe forty-odd years ago, myself and a couple of mates decided to go hill walking one weekend in the Lake District. Dave had been there many times before, and Chris and I had rambled around Dartmoor and Exmoor.
After almost a day travelling, we got there. This was a few years before the motorways had reached 'up-north', and we were living in Plymouth, practically the other end of the known world. We found a camp site, crashed out, and the next day we set out, with our ordnance survey maps, to conquer Helvelyn. This involved a walk along the ridge of rock known as Striding Edge, The day was very, very misty, I guess the visibility was about ten to twenty feet. From memory, Striding Edge is about a foot wide, fifty miles long, with shear drops on each side. Our progress was slow, and for the couple of us less experienced walkers, a bit worrying. There were one or two memorials on the way, to folk who had fallen over the edge, and never been found alive.
Anyway, we eventually reached the summit, and crouching down, behind the wind shelter, opened the Kendal Mint, brewed some tea, and had a minor celebration. We felt pretty well pleased with ourselves.
After about ten minutes, a black Labrador dog came sniffing around, then another. We got up to look for the owners. We found another group of about a dozen climbers, and a couple more dogs, just arriving. We started chatting to them, saying how difficult the climb had been, since it was so misty, we could hardly see our feet. We learnt that they had left well after us, and by comparison, they must have almost run up the hill. We also found out that their dogs were guide dogs, and that most of the group were blind. Somehow, we felt we had not achieved quite so much.
Best wishes,
Ray
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