Tim and Jenny's Classic Climbs in Wales Expedition

by Roy Sandford (who wishes to remain anonymous)

Paul and myself went up in Kevin's car on Thursday evening. Along the M54 a souped up BMW foolishly thought he could take a diesel Astra, whilst occasionally he managed to pass us on the straight Kevin retook the lead at the next roundabout.

At the Capel Curig campsite we met up with Jenny and a group of friends from her university days, who had just turned out of the pub for a midnight tent erecting party. We were joined sometime during the night by Tim and Jeanie. Friday morning, after a casual breakfast, the agenda was for climbs on Milestone Buttress, only to find the climbs were already occupied except for the HVS that Kevin had decided to warm up on, even though I have climbed with Kevin before, I agreed to second him (senility is a wonderful thing). The rest faced a further hour's walk to their next climb, which turned out to be an hour and a half after Tim found the climb had been moved (nothing to do with his navigation). When they eventually arrived, Tim and Jeanie and Paul and Jenny climbed Grooved Arret with style and panache (their words not mine).

Kevin decided that we should climb with rucksacks so that we could move on to the next climb, however, during the second pitch he came across a tricky bit and decided to take off his rucksack for me to deal with on my way up. It became evident that climbing with one rucksack was at the limits of my ability and therefore I left Kevin's rucksack on the adjoining climb with a very nice female climbing instructress, who had earlier asked to use some of my midge repellent (but had not allowed me to apply it).

Upon reaching Kevin he left me with my rucksack, the rope and half a ton of assorted climbing gear to free climb down the adjoining climb and retrieve his rucksack about 40 foot below.

I look to you, dear reader, for guidance as to how long you should remain in a relatively secure position in the hope that help could arrive. After an hour I am getting cold, despite wearing a fleece and a woolly hat and clouds are gathering ominously. I make 2 forays from my secure position to see if can find how to get off the mountain, then another climber came into view and pointed me in the correct direction. I made the decent down to the road with rucksack, rope and equipment to be joined somewhat later by a very tired Kevin, who swore blind that he had zigzagged up and down the mountain trying to find where he had left me. Whether that is the case or whether he had more success than me with the climbing instructress we will never know, however, with the aid of a bottle of wine and senility I soon forgot the experience. Then by Saturday morning the campsite party had grown with the arrival of Nick Warren, Dick Gasson and Monty, who camped 100 yards away so they could practice with their nasal music during the night without being wakened by the cries of encore!. More friends of Jenny's had now swelled the party to well over 20.

Early Saturday morning I joined Paul, Nick, Dick and Monty to climb the Main Wall, after they assured me it was only a 4B and they wouldn't loose me (reader there is a great deal of difference in climbing a 4B 20 feet above the ground and 400 feet above the ground).

With us all safely in Nick's car he then proceeded to reverse over Dick Gasson's tent and the reader must try and picture a forlorn Dick Gasson clutching his bent tent pole. We were unable to cheer him up with a 'could have been worse – you could have been in the tent'. Dick extracted a dreadful revenge on Nick when he lead the one and a half hour walk into Main Wall by ignoring the footpath in preference for a straight line distaining whatever nature had put in his path. Unfortunately Nick, in open toed sandals, suffered greatly during the fording of rivers and crossing of bogs.

When we arrived at Main Wall we found a queue of climbing teams waiting to make the assent and did not start climbing until nearly midday. Monty got his big friend out (a number 7) but as there were young girls present he was persuaded to put it away.

The queue of climbers lead to the occasional cosy half hour on a belay point where 4 people huddled on a ledge that would have been small for 2. At one point towards the top of the ascent, which was extremely exposed, Nick shouted 'look between your legs' where there was a vertical drop of some 350 foot. He gleefully pointed out that my face had gone white (tent mangling sadist) and in confidence I can tell you that my suntan had moved down to my underpants.

After completing the climb the guidebook is clear that you make your way to the footpath and down, but Dick dived down the first scree gully he came across with a "this looks as if it will go", which proved to be the most dangerous part of the entire day.

Tim and Jenny made a more leisurely start and climbed Amphitheatre Buttress with even greater style and panache.

Kevin had gone mountain biking with Jenny's husband Steve and some of her other friends and on his return decided that he needed to get much fitter.

On Sunday Nick, Dick and Monty left relatively early (it was a heavy night in the pub). Tim and Jeanie went walking and Kevin climbed Faith and Lazarus with Mr and Mrs Fruit (of Fontainebleau fame) whilst Jenny, myself and a group of her friends, watched over by a long suffering Paul, demonstrated our incompetence at placing protection on a gentle slope during our third sunny and dry day in glorious Welsh mountains.

Well done Tim and Jenny for an excellent weekend.

Hastings Rock & Fell Club Beach Bar-B-Que.

The fourth annual beach bash was again hosted by Gary Dyer at his palatial waterfront pavilion .

The weather this year can only be described as perfect,with a calm sea and hot sun, Roy also obliged by arriving as last year in his high speed power boat.

The evening began with several members swimming out in the warm sea to this craft for an exhilerating trip along the coast to the harbour arm and back.

This inspired your author to attempt to launch his own somewhat smaller inflatible dinghy. A great deal of pumping followed by a loud popping sound and a rapid deflation soon put paid to that idea however.

A fine collection of Bar-B-Que fires were then lit, fuelled by everything from gas,to bricquets and charcoal, and soon that indefinable aroma of carbonised sausage wafted into the still air.

Far more food than could possibly be eaten materialised, and as as the sun began to set a pale moon rose over the sea casting silver reflections on the smooth surface of the water. Mackeral could be seen breaking the surface and several members went off in pursuit with rod and line; some with more sucsess than others.

As darkness fell several whispers began to circluate. "Is it time for the fierworks yet?". Well, as a confirmed pyromaniac I think I can say that the display this year was the most spectacular ever staged by the Club and I can only offer our thanks to Gary for obtaining the pieces:- incuding the "Triple Burst Superocket" which formed the finale.

The evening was rounded off with music provided by our own musicians, special mention should be made of Jane`s acapella rendering of "Perfect" which was a treat to hear. Thanks also to Nigel for the guitar work;the voice will catch up soon I`m sure.

The party eventually broke up around midnight and I would thank Gary again for the use of his villa on the beach for this popular event, with over twenty members attending. Dick

Ladies Trip to Ashdown Forest

We calculated that this was the 10th such trip. Although no great distance was travelled to reach the venue, there was still good company, food, drink scenery and walking.

On the Friday afternoon, a reconnaisance into Hartfield was made by two of the party. We discovered 2 pubs and on our return journey across the fields, a tearoom. Friday evening was occupied by tent pole wrestling and barbequeing.

Saturday was the long walk, first to Hartfield, then Withyham and the Five Hundred Acre Wood, down the Wealdway and up the Vanguard Way. The heather was in bloom, the sun was shining and the Arab Horse Society were enduring a 30 mile ride around the forest.The Manchester Army cadets were getting lost, while we played Pooh Sticks and visited the Enchanted Place, accompanied by recitations of A.A. Milne's work, coutesy of Kim and Jean. The walk ended with a cream tea, a precursor to a nice meal at the pub. However, back at the campsite there had been a mass invasion of thirtysomethings from Cambridge. No. Nothing to do with us. They were there to celebrate someone's 30th birthday.

We had a nice meal in the pub that night, despite the place being taken over by the (by then very drunk) birthday party. A little merry ourselves, after all it had been Kim's hen night, we dodged the cowpats (unsucessfully in Rebecca's case) on the way back across the fields to the campsite. It was a beautiful starlit night with an orange moon rising. Perfect. I slept like a log as I had done the previous night.

Sunday morning and my fellow ladies were propping open their eyelids with the proverbial matchsticks. Had they all gone clubbing to Tunbridge Wells and left me asleep on the campsite? It certainly appeared that way. Some far-fetched story came out of an all night party going on all around the tents, at a volume of several decibels, and of leery fishermen shining torches into tents. (That flashing red lantern has something to answer for.) I'm sure they'd dreamt it all up. A navigation exercise to Nutley Windmill and then the Duddleswell Tearooms rounded off another excellent weekend.

Thank you to all the ladies.

Ruth