Punk hill-walking

When a tresspass becmos not a tresspass...

2007-04-29T19:46:00.000+01:00

Seem quite a silly statement at first doesnt it? If you are tresspassing, them it technicaly only becomes legal when one is back on a 'right of way'. Not so. What happens if you are on a hill path open to the public, marked and clear on the ground, but unarked on the latest maps? To anyone without knowedlge of the path, you are tressapssing, but in reality you are not. Of course, any farmer could boot you off, as the map shows no path and claim you are doing wrong. But as the path is a known 'right of way', he has no right to do so, whilst you equally have no evidence against him. Confusing isnt it?
This was the situation me and a freind came up against today. We were out in the Dove- Mainfold rregion of the Peak District climbing a few hills, and set our sights on Sheen Hill, a prominent hill that we'd not yet climbed. However, not even the new OS maps showed any path or access land going over the summit of the hill, but we'd been told by locals that there was access. Luckily we found this- a stile, discretley tucked away on the NE corner of the hill- which we followed to the summit. To anyone without the knowledge we were tresspassing, but in reaility we werent. Even better, Sheen Hill's summit was superb- a high, narrow rocky ridge jutting of the main bulk of the hill, with incredible views in all directions.
Anyways, just remember that if you see a path or stile not marked on a map, them folllow it. Thereas nothing a fuckwit farmer can do if you clim you though it was a 'right of way'. Anyhow, as a walker, tresspassing should always be done- there's too little access in parts of England, and telling a few backwards farmers t fuck off by tramping over their land to bag a hill is something any respectable walker shuld never be afraid to do.

A fortnight on the fells- its easter bank holliday and it's not raining!!!!

2007-04-13T14:19:00.000+01:00

Unbelieveable i know, but unlike every other bank holliday, this Easter it has been glorious and sunny. Even nicer is that i've had the last fortnight off school, so i've been out walking on most days. Fuck all the religious crap (Easter is a pagan festival that the hateful intolerant catholics overrid anyway), Easter is all about getting out on the fells and noshing on loads of chocolate.
On Good Friday (good, as in its quiet due to all the bible-bashers being in church) i met up with a load of mates for a nice picnic walk down the slopes of Barlow Dale. Had a plesent chill out on a ridge in the warm sunshine, chatting and enjoying the sun. One of my more wierder, exerzise-nut freinds buggered off as she wanted a 'walk'. We let her go- it was meant to be a nice get together, not a race around the hill. Ended up at Hill Top, fooling around at the park untill 16:30. Despite it supposedly being a short picnic walk, when i got home i found out i'd actually done 10.5 miles- probably due to me having to walk over town to meet everyone, and takng a freind back over some fields with Jake and Shell (she doesnt like walking through them alone).
However, Saturday was the best part of the weekend- Kinder Scout, the hghest of Peakland's 3 mountains. As there aint any busses out to Edale at the foot of Kinder and its a 20 mile drive from home, we dont often get to go on it. Luckily, Dobbo and Jake secured lifts out and by 9:45 we were walking in the glorious Edale Valley. The weather was perfect- bright sunshine, no clouds, a light breeze- and the fells unusualy quiet, adding to the charm as we walked up the valley. We decided to do the 'tourist route' up Kinder- Jacob's Ladder-, which, though easy, offeres stunning views as one climbs up onto the Kinder Col at 533m. I love this part of the Pennines, high up amongst the big hills of Peakland, the yellow grass and brown peat covering the fells, open skies and just the squarkng of grouse to be heard.
Our route was my favourite- up to the summit and over Kinder's wonderous central plateau- the highest ground in the Pennines and England south of the Yorkshire Dales- to Crowden Head, before heading over to Grindslow Knoll (the 4th highest hill in Peakland) and down to Edale. It was a glorious walk, jumping over groughs, crossing the bogs, chilling out for an hour on the summit (636m/ 2088ft- the highest in Peakland) and laughing as Jake and Dobbo had a peat fight at Crwden Head. For 3 1/2 hours we were above 2000ft on the plateau, seeng few people (some were a bunch of townies struggling over the bogs- they looked riduculous and should have stayed in the towns where they belong), enjoying what it the very best part of Kinder Scout.
We ended up on Grindslow Knoll (601m/ 1971ft), a satelite peak of Kinder where we spent 45 minutes veging and savouring the views. Eventualy made the horrible 1300ft descent down to Edale to get a lift home. Walking down through the village we passes a bunch of scousers who made loud comments on us being scruffy, odd looking and smelly. Haha, stupid scousers for you- out in thier scummy chav clothes- they should have been back in Liverpool steeling hupcaps, not polluting the countryside with thier thick heads.
Sunday was fun, ended up walking 14 miles due to a cold, strong wind blowing over the hills, finishing with a bbq at home. On Monday we met up some folk we go to Cornwall with on holliday for a slow wander up Stanton Moor. Despite it being cooler, the walk was fun with a good climb on the Cork Stone on the way down.

This last week of the hollidays has followed a similar pattern- short afternoon or evening dog walks with mum on tuesday and wednesday, a delightful walk over my local hills with grandma on thurday, veging on friday (should have done homework, but still...) and a big walk on saturday. Thursday was interesting, heading over Lenny Hill and Flask Edge from Totley, finishing off by going over the fields home. Mostly, on hot, sunny days i lothe to be on my local fells, wanting to be out in the heart of the Peak District Pennines. However, thursday's walk rekindled my fondness for them, all deserted and tranquil, the open heather moors dominating the pastoral fields of the Totley Valey as it heads towards Sheffield, away from the Pennines, reminding me how lucky i am to have the Pennines only 1 1/2 hours walk from home.

Yesterday was a kiler though- got the bus out to King's Tree at the top of Derwentdale in the heart of the Howden Moors- Bleaklow area and climbed the 4 highest hills on the Eastern Edges and in South Yorkshire : Horse Stone Naze (530m), Outer Edge (541m), Howden Edge (550m) and Back Tor (537m). The walk was a gem, crossing the wildest, toughest and remotest parts of Peakland, away from the crowds over a wilderness of peat bog, heather and moorland grasses. However, the heat was intense, making walking a wee bit tough (i could smell myself when i began the decent down to Fairholmes), especialy over Middle Moss where the nearest road is 2.5 miles away with the whole moor compleatly deserted. Still, the walking was grand, i got a good 30 mins chill out on each hill at the least and i avoided the crowds. The descent of Back Tor, with the hills all golden-yellow in the light and the fells deserted perfectly ended a simply superb fortnight of great walking.

Photos (top- bottom):

- Me resting on Jacob's Ladder with Kinder Scout beyond (the peak is The Pagods at 630m/ 2068t)

- Me at Kinder's summit for the 17th time

- Dobbo and i posing at Fox Holes Crag en-route to Grindslow Knoll, with Win Hill Pike and Lose Hill below

- Jake and Dobbo chilling atop Grindslow Knoll

End of term walking blow-out

2007-04-02T11:04:00.000+01:00

Hooray, finally broke up for easter after the hardest half- term i've ever had. To celebrate and unwind, i decided to go walking both days of the weekend. Even better, Dad came up after 5 months recovring from a moterbike accident, which means its back to normal with him- going on big walks every month.
Saturday was a fun wander- drove over to Errwood Reservoir in the Western Moorlands, stopping outside Buxton to bag Grin Low (my first new hill of 2007). We ploddeed up the Goyt Valley into the hills, quite cold givien that it's now April, but wonderfully sunny. Instead of climbing Burbage Edge as planned, we decided to climb Whetstone Ridge to have dinner on (i like to have my dinner on top of hills- can't stand eating in a valley or on a subsidary top unless its a good one like Bleaklow Stones), passing the source of the River Mersy and seeing little of the usualy great views due to the haze.
Afterwards we headed north along the ridge to Shining Tor, at 559m the highest hill in Cheshire and on of my favourite hills. Had a delightful hour on the summit, climbing on the crags and enjoying the views. Dad had brought along some balti mix which was a wee too hot and moreish- ended up with aching stomachs during the walk along the ridge to Cats Tor. The last part of the walk went alog the ridge to Cats Tor (522m) which was the highest Peakland hill i'd yet not climbed, and a great one at that with stunning views and a great sense of height. Got back to the car to find a few stupid townie boys taking photos of thier crappy cars- how sad-, which gave us a laugh.
On Sunday i dragged my tired legs back out onto the fells, this time up Bleaklow. Due to the cold, i decided to go over the moors to Higher Shelf (621m/ 2037ft), the 3rd of Peakland's 3 mountains. It involved a brilliant walk up the Westend Valley and Raven's Clough, before crossing the remote moors over Westend Low (535m) and heading down into the upland bowl of Grains-in-the-Water. After another half hour's plod over the moor i reached Higher Shelf in 50mph winds that were so strong i got knocked down a few times. Luckily there was some shelter for me to enjoy my lunch high up in heven.
From Higher Shelf i headed over to Bleaklow, stumblng acros a small tarn below Higher Shelf's summit. At 617m/ 2024ft, this is the highest permenant water in England south of Fountains Fell Tarn in the Yorkshire Dales and very magical. As usual, Bleaklow was a delight- remote, wild, high, charming and with stunning views-, confirming it as my all time favourite hill and/or mountain. Whilst i was relaxing on the summit, Jake (my twin) appeared over the ridge, giving me a shock as he was suposed to be over on the Howden Moors 4 miles away. He'd got cold and decided to dash over the fells, which annoyed me as i was enjoying being alone on the mountain.
The walk back was fun as normal, over the moor, stopping at Ronskley Tarn for some food (so nice, sat by the tarn on the heather, munching on some cake, gazing over to Bleaklow, high up and alone- i love the spot) and back down to the road to get the bus home. Now thats what i call a great weekend, though my legs are aching and i smell a bit. Has to be the best 2 days walking all year so far...

photos- top: Cats Tor from Shining Tor
bottom- me on the summit of Cats Tor

No more coursework!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-03-23T19:08:00.000Z

Whooppeee!!! Finally, after 3 years of GCSE and A-level corsework, i have not more to do, ever! As i'm nearng the end of my last year at school (hell), i've just handed in my English Language investigaton in, the last bit of coursework i've got to do, now with no more untill university. Oh how i am happy, no more late nights finishing drafts or endless hours slogging away, just revision for my final exams in june...
The last few weeks have been ok- out to the pub with freinds, putting up with the catholic fascists who run (dictate) school, chuggin through more homework and the odd bit of walking of course. Actualy, my walking aint been of much lately- a good slog up Bleaklow and a short 2 hour, 7-mile dash over my local fell (Flask Edge) in a hail storm- due to rubbish weather. Soon its the easter holidays so it should pick up- planning to go up Kinder Scout (highest mountain in the Peak District) and go scrambling on the wonderful limestone ridges in the Winnats Pass.
Luckily the weather is picking up with spring approching, so the year can pick up steam.......

photo- me wasted on New Years Eve 2005 on my 17th bday- how i aim to be at a mates party on saturday 24th march.....

For once I'm hoping for bad weather

2007-03-03T19:10:00.000Z

Strange but true, for once I'm hoping that tomorrow it will chuck it down. You see, my normal walking day is sunday, when all the busses out into the hills run (well, two busses), and all weak Dobbo, Jake and were planning on climbing Bleaklow (the finest mountain in Britain). However, Mr Weatherman and the ultra-accurate MWIS.org.uk have been predicting that it will chuck it down all day with cloud at around 300m- not good for going up Bleaklow.
So, scared of getting a thorough drenching, Dobbo and i decided to go walking today instead, going for a most wonderous wander over the moor above Chatsworth Park. We had a good walk, grossing Gardom's Edge and wandering past the lakes above Chatsworth House- very nostalgic as the last time i was there was way back in 2002 when i was just beginning to take to the hils, before i'd started fellwalking properly. The best bit though, was climbing Harland Edge- the Southeasternmost 1100ft hill in the Pennines- were we relaxed in the mild sun, admiring the incredible views over nearly all of Peakland and messing around. Despite it being right at the end of the Pennines, it is a grand little hill with a welcome sense of wildness to it. The afternon turned out great- heading over to Birchin Edge for some (not very good) climbing.
Anyway, despite the day being good, going up Bleaklow is far better than going anywhere else in Peakland (well, except for Kinder and the Howden Moors maybe), and if it turns out lovely tomorrow i will be highly annoyed, having had to change my plans for nothing. Just hope i wake up to grey clouds and heavy, persistant rain in the morning....

Random events in the life of Bo

2007-03-01T15:05:00.000Z

Ah blimey, what a month February has been!
Finally finished off me exams at the beginning of the month- an absolute delight to have them done and had a much deserved week off school on holiday, in which i did very little work, chilled out and went walking quite a lot.
School has been interesting, as i feel it is in serious decline- we have an authoritarian catholic in charge, who appears to be slowly removing any freedoms we've enjoyed in the 6th form (A-Level years) and getting rid the school's once vibrant, happy atmosphere, and letting it become a fearful, unhappy, authoritarian place. Still, only 11 weeks to go untill i'm off on study leave for my final exams, them i'm off to university, so i can put up with it untill then.
I've recently decided to put green streaks in my hair (which looks cool) which i think is great- i get loads of stares off the townies and boring indie-sheep- and makes a nice change from being pure blonde. Unfortunatly, our catholic year head doesnt like it (what do catholics like???), but, as i'm currently not breaking any rules, there's nothing they can do about it.
My walking has been good this month- did a brilliant 20 mile walk with Jake and Dobbo around my local hills, possibly the easiest 20-miler i've done. Me and Dobbo had a great day doing some superb scrambling at Alport Castles (Britain's largest landslip), where we ended up climbing a 70ft cliff of loose grass and heather (he almost fell) and climbed The Alport Tower- a grand 120ft pinnacle that has the best summit of any Peakland hill. My mate Dobbo is also beginning to improve at climbing at last- doing some good climbs for his first time- which is great as he is/ was rather incompetent at it and can now climb at (what i call) a descent standard.
My wonderful social life has been ok with nothing much happenig really. It's been a flurry of mates 18th
birthdays with the odd good party, and quiet trips to the pub for a pint. Even better, someone who i hate has had his driving license taken off him and forced to retake his test for speeding last year, and everyone is getting better at keeping in contact with one-another.
Anyways, i will try to update this thing more regularly that i have been doing.

Photos:
-top: Me with green hair
-bottom: Dobbo on the knife-edge sumit of the Alport Tower (476m), at Alport Castles.

Thunderstorms+ mountaintops+ me do NOT mix!

2007-01-22T19:50:00.000Z

Note- mountains+ me DO MIX. We mix so well it's like parties and booze or cheese and toast. However, me+ mountains with thunder DO NOT MIX.
Ah, what a fun day sunday was. With the high chance that the first snow of 2007 was likley to fall, i decided to go and climb the mountain where it would most likley fall- Bleaklow. Despite the usual people and health and saftley obsessed gits telling me not to go, i went anyway. Being an experianced walker and very familiar with Bleaklow (I've climbed it 22 times) i didn't have a problem.
I ascended via the remote Westend Valley jutting of Howden Reservoir and walked up it in heavy snow and sleet. By the time Ronksley Moor (510m) was reached i was drenched so i headed down to the Round Hill Bothy to dry off, 10 minutes walk away down a grough. Gosh it was lovely in the bothy- a little winter wonderland 1500ft (470m) in the middle of nowhere- to dry off and have some food as it pelted it down outside. After an hour it eased off so i decided to make a push for Bleaklow Stones, at 628m/ 2060ft the 3rd highest point of the mountain and the most easterly bit of ground above 2000ft in the UK.
The walk was sheer delight, the fells glimmering white and compleatly deserted, Bleaklow looming ahead. The walk is very familiar to me (I've done it at least 15 times) with a good climb up onto the mountain's plateau at Grinah Stones. From here Bleaklow Stones loomed menacingly ahead, the cold wind gusting hard. As usual the climb is straightforeward and wonderful, slowly traversing around and up onto to top. The final 100ft were difficuly due to deep snow but soon the top was reachec at 12;30.
Being on top was brilliant with the vast views in all directions, the snow covered slopes leading down to endless moors. I had i little rest and half my dinner before a massive cloud from the west rolled over. At first it snowed lightly but suddenly it developed into a whiteout blizzard with no visability and heavy snowfall all around. I then got the shock of my life when it began to thunder and lighning directly overhead, scaring me silly as it was right upon me and i had no choice but to stay put.
It finally subsided 15 minutes later, leaving me somewhat shook up. I raced back to Grinah Stones and over to the Bothy before the next band of snow came. By now it was going dark and i'd had enough so i made for the Westend Valley in more heavy snowfall. With the pine woods and slopes all white it was really beautuful (D of E gits would call it a 'dangerous' situation by the way).
The day then turned into a nighmare as it snowed constantly for 1 1/2 hours, the bus home failed to turn up, it turning around halfway up the reservoirs (TM-Travel- you are assholes!!!!). Luckily some walkers who i walked back down the road with offered to give me a lift to Hathersage so my perents could pick me up (no mobile reception in Derwentdale by the reserviors). I offer my greatest thanks to the members of the Derbyshire Pennine Fell Club for helping me out of a bad situation.
Anyway, it was certainly a good day and fun adventure!

Photos- top- Round Hill Bothies at 11:30 after the first snowfall, in Lower Small Clough, Ronskley Moor.
Bottom- Bleaklow Stones from Grinah Stones after the blizzard with more bad stuff on the way. The best view of any hill or mountain anywhere i think.

First nice weather of 2007!

2007-01-14T18:40:00.000Z

Wow, after a week of heavy rain and wind, Peakland was finally treated to a day of bright clear skies and cold tempratures. Unluckily for me i could only go out in the morning due to revision, so i made the most of it and got the bus to Baslow and walked over Baslow Edge, Curbar Edge, White Edge and Flask Edge to Owler Bar. On the plus side it was probably better that I came home eary as the winds buffetting the Eastern Edges (the hill group I was on) were incredible- i could barely walk on the descent from Flask Edge and it chilled me to the bone.

The plod along the tops was good, overtaking most of the crowds and all of the annoying Duke of Edinborough morons (D of E sucks) on Curbar Edge with stunning views over Peakland in all directions. However, i made a hash of climbing the Eagle Stone on Baslow Edge- usualy it is an easy bit of bouldering- and fell off numerous times before giving in. Thank god no-one was watching.

I Finished off the walk by visiting my local hill, Flask Edge, and sat in the ditch munching tiffin with the summit to myself as usual. Got home for 13:00 feeling sightly headachey and refreshed- any amount of time on the hills is better than non at all.

Oh, here is a photo i took from White Edge Moor of Kinder Scout with Shatton Moor, Lose Hill and Win Hill Pike in front.

Examophobia

2007-01-13T16:39:00.000Z

What a start to 2007! The first week was ok, getting rid of the New Year's Eve hangover and immediatly back to school on the 3rd on Jan, school being easy and glad to meet up with freinds (my bunch are hopeless at keeping in contact over the hollidays).
The weekend was a bit poo, preparing for exams- yes, immediatly after the new year we have MORE exams to revise for- and then going for a walk on Sunday. It seemed a good idea to walk from Hartington to Bakewell over the Limestone Plateau, but it turned into a miserable slog. I went on my own and was ok at first untill i climbed Carder Low (my first hill of 2007) but by 11:30 it began to rain and didn't stop.
I trudged over the endless sea of green muddy fields of the Limestone Plateau (the southern and central part of Peakland near the southern end of the Pennines) , above 1000ft for miles on end, past the lovely backwater of Monyash and down Lathkill Dale in the rain. The worst bit though was in Bakewell waiting for the bus back home as there were some horrid chav girls playing thier vile 'music' staring at me like i was an alien- i'd rather be up on Kinder in a snowstorm than repeat that experiance again! Despite this the day was worthwhile, the route a great point- to point plod, and way better than being stuck at home.
This week has been full of exams- one on thursday and friday (i think i did well)- and lots of revision, spiced up by getting blown around walking to and from school by the gloriusly strong winds affecting Britain at the moment. Anyway, with more exams to look foreawrd too and colder weather on the way, it looks like 2007 is off to a great start (in a sarcastic way).

Bo + Jake turn 18!

2007-01-01T19:36:00.000Z

Whoooppeee! Last night (New Year's Eve) was Jake and my 18th birthday, so now we can legaly get served at pubs. So, instead of the usual sitting at home we celebrated by going out on a pub crawl with loads of mates and got wasted. Luckily our town isn't too full of chavs so the atmosphere was great. Finished the night by gate-crashing a freinds house and staggaring home at 2:30.

Had a big party on the 29th with loads of mates, for once we had good music- hours of punk rock, metal and emo- instead of having to endure other freinds horrible dance/ rnb/ hip-hop and indie rubbish, and got very merry.

(photo is of a drunken me (left) and Jake (right) at our party on the 29th).

Merry 2007!

Crimbo scrambles

2006-12-26T15:18:00.000Z

Merry Christmas!

Ah, the wonderous season of Christmas- presents, tons of food and copious amounts of alcohol- I love it. Despite being non-religeous (I believe in facts), Crimbo is about the solstice and family get togethers (great sunset from Flask Edge).

Anyway, did a fantastic walk on Christmas Eve with Jake and Dobbo from Castleton, up the Winnats Pass and along the Great Ridge, descending and climbing Win Hill Pike then walking down to Bamford to get the bus home.

Because of the fog we didn't see a thing (except for a few people on Mam Tor) but climbed the Elbow Ridge in the Winnats Pass. Having climbed the 200ft knife-edge arete before, we had little difficulties except Dobbo (this was his first time on the ridge. After an easy climb around the first tower we emerged onto the ridge proper. 100ft of air on both sides with the 1ft wide ridge looming up ahead. Dobbo was a wee bit scared, but Jake and I loved it, slowely making our way up the arete- very easy scrambling despite the exposure.

The final tower proved dead easy- nothing more than an easy grassy scramble- even Dobbo did it.

What a Crimbo Eve!

Photos (top to bottom):

- Me and Dobbo at the foot of the ridge

- Jake climbing up the ridge

- Looking down to me high on the ridge

Recent rain getting you down?

2006-12-11T19:04:00.000Z

Recently we British folk have had a week or so of wonderful, heavy rain. Yes, I know it isn't snow (thanks to global warming) and we Brits love to moan about the rain. So, if the reacent weather is getting you down, here are a few reasons i came up with to be greatful for the rain:

- if you live in the south of England, then what are you moaning about??? After all, you lot moaned when you had the drought this summer (us northerners don't get droughts as we have hills and mountains!) so you should be bloody greatful for a bit of rain to refill water reserves.
- makes a nice change from the endless heat of summer- try studying for your A-Levels in 30 degree heat!
- a nicley full river is a healthy one, lots of water for our reservoirs and vegetation
- a bit of rain keeps the townies of the hills, allowing the peat bogs to re-saturate and the tarns to re-fill
- doing work, be it homework or other, is far easier if it is vile outside.
- at least it does rain, unlike some countries like Spain or in parts of Africa where they don't get much at all.
I hope that should cheer oneself up, just need some bloody snow now!

Kinder Scout wander

2006-12-09T12:40:00.000Z

View up Grindsbrook from Ringing Rodger with Grindslow Knoll (601m/1971ft) on the left, Peakland's 4th highest hill, and the slopes of Kinder on the right.

Having planned to climb Kinder (the highest of Peakland's 3 mountains) from Edale the other week, only have plans go tits-up at the last minute, I decided to get the bus out and climb it from Ladybower.
Despite having a hell of a lot of ascent and descent the day turned out rather good, having a superb bog-trot over Kinder's eastern plateau. Though just below 2000ft, it provided a grand bog trot with stunning views in all directions, only encountering crowds above Grindsbrook. Finished the day with seeing a fantastic sunset over the Great Ridge and a spooky walk through Lockerbrook Woods in the dark.

Campaign for comfy chairs during overly long lectures

2006-12-07T15:43:00.000Z

Ah yes, this week i had to go to 2 days of lectures in the urban sprawl grot-hole that is Manchester on the other side of the Pennines. Being history and geography lecures they were most interesting, with the one problem- uncomfy chairs.
Now this isn't a problem usualy when i'm sat down for an hour long lesson, but for 4 hours of lectures on a wafer-thin bit of foam on wood? arrrrrrrgh! What was supposed to be a useful talk to help me with my studies turned out to be a 4 hour long tourture session with my bum in numbing agony.
So, Mr lectureer, next time we pay £25 to listen to you talk, do us a favour and give us chairs that we can actualy sit on without going through phisical hell on our rears- a bit more foam under your bum goes a long way.
Bo

Whernside

2006-11-24T20:13:00.000Z

Dobbo (left) and me (right) at the summit of Whernside, the highest mountain we had climbed at the time (26th Oct 06). It was so cold our camera packed in shortly after!

Whernside (736m/ 2415ft)- the highest mountain in Yorkshire- seen from Simon Fell (650m), Ingleborough's eastern summit.

Here a a couple of photos from a great trip to the dales Jake, Dobbo and I went on to climb Whernside and Mount Ingleborough. Despite what most walkers think, Whernside is a great mountain, especialy in terms of shape and views and is made far more fun if one forsakes the vile tourise route and ascends directly up the E (Skelside) Face for a superp grassy scramble. Sod majority of opinion, it is a grand mountain well worth climbing.
Photo- wise, is it just me or are there hardly any good quality photos of Whernside on the web? I hope this one will sort that out!
Bo

Bo gets eaten by a hill

2006-11-20T16:50:00.000Z

Having had a crap day on Saturday getting rid of a hangover, I decided to go for a good ard bog-trot up Abby Clough and over Middle Moss out above Ladybower in Peakland. All went well with some superb scrambling in Abby Clough (though it isn't recomended to anyone without an appetite for lose rock and heather) and a fantastic walk over Middle Moss- the largest moor and remotest part of Peakland behind Howden Edge without seeing a soul.
Anyway, on my plod over Peat Street to Back Tor messed up crossing a peat bog and suddenly ended up to my neck in thick peat. Being completely alone miles from anywhere i was in trouble, but luckily got my muddy self out efore I went completely under. Cetainly an unforgettable, though unwanted experiance.
With a bit of luck this story should keep those who know me off the moor, leaving it nice and quiet for me!!!
ps- the photo is a rare one from Brunsten Croft Ridge looking west to Howden Edge with High Stones (l), the wilderness moor of Middle Moss (c) and Magery Hill (r), taken before my fall in the bog.
Bo the bogtrotter

Robertson n.o.2

2006-11-16T20:52:00.000Z

Ah yes, Jake's technophobic twin, Bo has finally figured out how to work these things. Whopppeee!
Anyway, I don't wear eyliner, have an even worse love life than Jake and am addicted to hill walking. As we are so similar (goddam it!!!), here are a few differences between us:

Jake wears eyeliner
Bo doesnt
Jake is a skilled writer
Bo can just write long rants (though i got 6 A* in my GCSE English coursework!)
Jake is smaller than Bo
Bo is better at climbing than Jake
Jake is phisicaly fitter in terms of climbing uphill than Bo
Bo has stronger arms than Jake
Jake's favourute bands are NOFX and My Chemical Romance
Bo's are NOFX and Bad Religion
Is that enough things to show we are diffenrent from each other, not just two 'identical twins' (though we are) who are two of the same person?
Bo the technophobe

Jake Tries Eyeliner

2006-09-08T22:03:00.000+01:00

This is a shitty shot of me, Jake Robertson, with eyeliner on. Sparkly black on one, blue on the other as I could not decide which one I liked the most. I thought it would be cool and quite frankly, it is cool, despite what some butch, sexually insecure males tell me. The photograph is crap because I took it and self-portraits are always crap, though they do have some wonderful, droll artistic appeal to them. So its not crap. then.

Moving on, today was not as bad as it first seemed, good lessons, a few lies and a bit of sunggling up to teachers here and there and the day is almost over. Eng Lit went alright, only knew one person but I guess I shall get to know them as time goes on.

I am now working on a second go at my Dartmoor travel writing, which is hard, sometimes blissful, somtimes painful. I wrote one and half paragraphs in four hours, which is a personal record for slowness and indecisivness. Writing is a slow process, it comes is bursts and cannot and should not be forced out. I myself go long periods without writing anything remotely good then suddenly, out of the blue will sit down and write down 1000 or so words of fairly decent prose or a short poem. Yes, there is the argument that writing is like a muscle, it has to be excercised regularly to get into good active shape but I only agree with it to a smal extent. Certainly, regular practice does hone and define your style, making it easier to write, but you need an inspiration to write and the best inspiration or ideas come randomly at a time when you are least expecting it. It makes writing such a wonderfully unpredictable thing, sometimes hiddeously frustrating, sometimes pure joy. But that's what make it, it and why I love it so much.
Jake

First Day Back, First Day In Hell

2006-09-07T20:08:00.001+01:00

It's been my first day back at school, the first day of my final year!!!!!
Yes, new school stuff, new stuff to learn, a new leaf and a chance to wipe away last year's ills...ahh..all those new kids to meet, the new changes to the school to enjoy and a new year head to be introduced to....

Pure fucking agonising hell beyond hell beyond hell. I was told on Monday that I couldn't take up English Literature AS due to the stupid restrictive timetable and so I planned my work on Thursday around it. I arrive at school today expecting to be home for 11am and get cracking but... it turns out I can do Eng Lit and just have to see one of my year heads later about it.

Soon after learning this we have ass-embly, where the new year head gives us all a telling off for being older and more free spirited and does his best to scare us all into giving them up without a fight. I immediately hate him and want to drown him, telling us that as post-16's we cannot wear shorts or what we like. Well, tell me Sir - we have a uniform or we don't - do not give me petty dress code bollocks, it's not a work place, we are not paid professionals. I will not be told how to dress by the state in a free, liberal school. Get that.

So, I leave pretty angry and dive into my first lesson, History. No probs, lovely to see my wonderful and cool teacher again. Then I go to sort out my Eng Lit fiasco... I change History groups, get more lessons and in minutes my precious 20 minte morning break is over and I have another History lesson with my new group... I'm stressed out and want to kill someone...

History goes alright...lovley teacher, nicer than her usually beastly attitude
would suggest and a somewhat more interesting group. One girl even waves at me, whoever she is...rather you give me a bottle of Southern Comfort than wave at me though!

But then it's half twelve and I have a half hour dash home to get more work done than I first thought with the added knowledge that tomorrow is going to be long, stressful and with even more work. I'm totally buggered, stressed out and not sure if it was worth wanting to take up Eng Lit. Odd, I'm usually ecstatic after the first day back, today I'm stressed and want to punch somone and snog someone else.
Jake

I Don't Want To Go Back To School

2006-09-06T19:50:00.000+01:00

I go back to school tomorrow, which I really can't wait for!
No really, I've been a stupid bugger and left all my work until the last two days, which I cannot possibly manage and as such will be racing down at 9pm tomrrow for my only lesson of the day, History, then racing home for 10:30 to spend then next 12 hours doing Geography coursework essay and English Language etymology research. So of course I cannot wait.
I think it's completly mad. Six weeks we get off and I'm supposed to spend my six weeks with my head in a book about Chairman Mao, looking up impossibly to find origins of Peakland place names and ganing an understanding of trawl fishing. Nah.
I've been reading interesting books such as Travels With The Flea by Jim Perrin, The Old Patagonian Express by Paul Theroux and my favourite of all, Annapurna by Maurice Herzog. And I've been getting very drunk and doing a fair bit of walking and climbing. I've also started work on two new writing projects. One is the follow up to my "The Top of Derbyshire" article on Kinder Scout (in this month's Derbyshire Life), taking Bleaklow and Higher Shelf Stones each in a seperate article and discussing them, completing the trilogy of Derbyshire's mountains.
The second is a more ambitious piece, my first serious travel writing book. It's about my experiences on Dartmoor last year and this year, discussing the contradictory emotions I felt walking on the moor on my own at such a young age. It's fairly big and has been taking up much of my time but I want to make a good job out of it and it is enjoyable to do.

So now I have to suffer the consequences. I'm not going to go to sleep for the next 48 hours and I deserve it. You may even scoff andsay that I deserve to fail my A-levels. That itself wouldn't be the end of the world, I do have a rather unusual backup plan and one that I kinda of whish I started a few weeks back, but my grades didn't require its initiation.
And then we have my school itself. I hate it. It's ruled by a set of evil fascists who instead of bending to the needs of the pupils, make you bend to it. The lower years live in fear and when they get out of sight of authority they run amok and a few of it's policies are completely bonkers.
For example, the GCSE years are no longer being allowed out of school for lunch, when the place is already too crowed and the new Year 12's must stay on sight during free periods. This is mad - there are hardly enough study places as it is and if we have an odd free periof when there isn't enough time to go home and come back later, it's going to be hell.
The place is going nuts and I hate it to bits. I hate my year, I hate the way its run and I hate the people who run it. I know I've only got until May/June at the place but I've got an awful lot of hard work to do in a place I dearly hate. Such a shame the only other option is dearly worse.
Ahh well...
Jake

Southern Comfort Poetic York

2006-09-04T22:36:00.000+01:00

The York trip was interesting. I loved it, my liver hated it but then not everyone can like Southen Comfort, the King Of All Drinks.

Yes, the train was full of pissed middle-aged blonde bimo tart footballers wives bitches and ok, I never got up the Minster tower and maybe I didn't try absinth and one or two other substances loved ones would disown me for trying. Hmm, yeah, I didn't exactly go out of the way to help my very generous host in the way of chores and I know I should have talked to those gorgeous emo girls in the record store.

Regrets, minor naggles that mean nothing but persist in doing their best to lower my buoyant mood. These things always happen but they have to overridden by firm statements.

You did spend 48 hours drunk, you did stay awake until 5 in the morning, you did see and gain a feel for the city. And yes, you did go to one of the nicest bars ever and sit outside drinking Desperados, you did write a fairly good poem. Also, you gained a hell of a lot from that poetry workshop. Oh, I almost forgot, you met some pretty wonderful random people and that one on the train did snog you. Whoever she was.
You fucking loved yourself goddamn you!

Now I feel better. It was so enjoyable. Above all, it was the city that made it. The combination of good company with the medieval poetic romance of the city, it's soul made it for me. Add in excellent random company and two wonderful people I feel humbled to call friends and you have a pretty much perfect two and a half days. Those naggles? - merely the mind trying to remind you that nothing is perfect. Nothing is, but sometimes it's nice to believe it.

Jake

Shocking My Flock Of Sheep

2006-09-01T20:48:00.000+01:00

This is a more up to date picture of me. Taken today on an old track near Barlow, not too far from my home.
I went on a walk with some friends over the fields to Barlow then finally stood on the highest point of a hill known as Hill Top, the hill that rules our town but one in 17 years I've never bothered with. Now I did it and it's ruined by woods blocking views and a bastard golf course over the top. I don't particularly like golf or those who play it. Dull, middle-class snotty freaks

The walk was lovley though. Walking through the fields chatting with my friends, having a laugh and for the first time in weeks it was hot and nice enough to not bother with a t-shirt. Note my groovy pink and black belt and Alkaline Trio t-shirt I got from the gig in Sheffield in February, a fucking brilliant night.

As much as I dearly love them, my friends are all sheep. They lack any sense of rebellion or wanting to be anything other than another middle-lcass townie, a mere statistic with a settled and comfortable but hideously boring life. They don't exactly like my belt, my t-shirt and get wierd thoughts about my nails (see picture below).

What is wrong may I ask with having painted nails and wearing black and pink? They are the coolest colours and I'll wear and do whateever I think is cool. Not what Missis Bitch Face Fashion Stylist With No Style says. It's really freaking them out and I like it. Tomorrow I'm going to York to stay with a few friends from the Writing Squad, the brilliant writing goup I've the blessing to be in. I'm going to put a bit of eye liner and eye shaddow on. Yes, a bit emo, but very cool I think. What my plain friends will think is anyone's guess. Probably very gay I think.

Which is another thing I really hate. Why do a lot of people assume that just because you wear a certain colour or have a bit of make-up on you must be homosexual or a transvestite? I'm perfectly straight, single, but straight and certainly not a transvestite. As are quite a few people I know who have their nails painted. It's a horrible stereotype to come from people who consider themselves politically correct liberals.

So, if you a bit worried about being a bit rebellious, just look at this. I can shock and rebel against my friendsby having my nails painted. Pathetic really. No need to start any public disorder or swearing. Just paint your nails and throw a bit of eye shaddow on. So rebellious isn't it? Gosh, in this heavily stereotyped and predjudiced society, the possiblilties are endless!!!
Jake

Jake On Bleaklow Stones

2006-09-01T09:03:00.000+01:00

Punk hillwalking? It's about freedom of the mind and the physical body. It's not just about what you do, but with why you do it. It's about fucking the scum who rule us and destory Mother Nature for their own greedy gain.
Hillwalking is freedom, learning to love and appreciate Mother Nature's glory. But there are some shits who want to capitalise on it, turn Mother Nature into money, ruin the freedom of the hills and ruin Mother Nature.
Don't just sit back and let other's do it, do something. But above all, do it with a smile on your face and full faith in your convictions.
If your heart's not in it and you're not enjoying it don't do it. So fuck off the hills if you ain't arsed and get back to your townie shithole to listen to your soft indie bollocks music. Coldplay, the Kaiser Chiefs.
Others, who love the hills and love proper music like NOFX, Send More Paramedics and Alexisonfire, rock on goddamn you and for goodness sake - PUNK'S NOT DEAD!!!!!
Sound's a bit naff but punk hillwalking - defending Mother Nature, having fun, going mental in a mosh pit and not following the status quo.

Don't be a sad Razorlight listenimg townie sheep.

Oh, the picture is of me on Bleaklow Stones, 630m, Sunday 27th August 2006. I look a twat but when you're at your favourite place in the world with "Seperation of Church and Skate" going through your head, it's excusable.

And check out my picture of my mate taking a picture of me.

Win HIll Pike, King of Peakland

2006-08-31T20:15:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I made my 22nd ascent of Win Hill Pike (463m/1518ft) which is, in my outspokenly humble opinion, the finest hill of them all.

Win Hill Pike is surrounded by hills up to 200m higher but refuses to accept that, from all angles his jaunty crooked peak soars into the sky, a distant and airy ridge sat up with the gods. He possesses a magnificent shape, a harmonious combimation of mountain ruggedness, peaky beauty and moorland tenderness making for one of the most distinctive and appealing of all hill shapes. Added to this he revels in a wild, untamed atmosphere that simply exudes charm, epitomising all that is best about Peakland.

Like all good hills, the summit best part, as it should be. A narrow rocky ridge rising from a broad shoulder, airy and mountain-like yet not forgetting his Peakland roots. The view is sensational, a perfect combination of woods, lakes, valleys and hills and no urban spoils, enhanced by the height and 1000ft drop on all sides.

We climbed from Hope by Twitchill Farm, a quick forty minute climb then descended down the Win Hill Pike-Kinder Ridge to the Hope Cross Col and followed a track back to Townhead Bridge and Hope. An eays walk but one worth lingering over, it is simply magnificent with no blemishes.

Win Hill Pike is undobtedly the "King of the Peaks", to quote the poet Ebenezer Elliot and deserves the attiontion and love of everyone. It is simply unbeatable.

Fascism In Sheffield's Peace and Winter Gardens

2006-08-28T18:35:00.000+01:00

Fuck it! Went into Sheffield on Friday to meet Danny to discuss my Dartmoor travel writing piece. A very productive two hours, sorted the main themes of piece and can now develop it further. As always, we had a very interesting chat before I left to meet a few friends in the Peace Gardens.
Yes, they may be seen as the crown jewel in Sheffield's crown but I hate them. Pretty and a pleasant retreat they may be but to be honest, they the most oppressive place I know outside my fascist school.
Last Monday, some harmeless emos and punk kids put some substanc in the fountains that made foam go everywhere. It was not harmful, it was not ugly and it was fun. Of course, the AUTHORITY, the stupid little guards/safety/blackshirts in their little bright yellow belts had to come up, go mental at the kids, turn the fountains off to get rid of the foam then kick the punks and emos out of the gardens. WHY? They were not causing any damage, not causing any offence and just having innocent fun. Is it because for some absurd safety/terrorist reason AUTHORITY said "no"? And if AUTHORITY says "no", woe betied you if you disobey.
On Friday the punks and emos were there, again doing nothing wrong. This time the police (the SS) were bothering them as well as the blackshirts (nanny state security guards). Ooh, is it because they had a bit of fun on Monday? Or is it because they wear black and look a bit subversive? Ooh yes, one guy had a Slayer t-shirt on. Lock him up, child murderer! Fuck off.
Understandably, wearing a Clash t-shirt and purple nail varnish, I was pissed off. Then it got worse. We went into the Winter Gardens and sat on a bench. As there was no room for me I sat on the floor. Yet within seconds and security guard came up to me and bluntly told me not to sit on the floor and to sit on a bench if I want to sit down. What is wrong with sitting on the floor? I'm not an obstruction or a terrorist and if somebody asks me to move so they can pass, I will.
The problem is AUTHORITY. We supposedly live in a FREE COUNTRY, that means I can do and say what I want so long as it doesn't infringe on other's human rights. England is not a free country. The Neo-Fascist Labour Government clearly does not like anybody to have any fun or individuality, using the excuse of the Nanny State to infringe OUR FREEDOM. Sheffield's Peace and Winter Gardens are one such example.
So a plea to anyone going there - FUCK THE AUTHORITY! And as it's got such a grip on us all, it's not hard to piss it off. Like sitting on a floor not a bench. If you do get kicked out, give the bastards a mouthful, they deserve it. I hope the punks and emos reading this take note. Rebel goddamn you, I'm restrained by my townie friends!
Jakex

Rosie Roo the Whippet

2006-08-23T14:52:00.000+01:00

I've never mentioned that I have a dog. So here are two pictures of her. She is a two year old rescued whippet/greyhound/saluki cross called Rosie. Or Rosmary. Or Roo because she jumps like a kangaroo. Either way, she's a pretty cute dog don't you think? But she's also the most timid, skitty little dog in the world. And the laziest.
The top picture is Rosie on Gwynver beach in Cornwall a few weeks ago. The bottom one is her in her bed in Cornwall with "baby".

Bleaklow Stones 17th Ascent

2006-08-23T13:28:00.000+01:00

Yay! Got tickets to go see Less Than Jake and the Dropkick Murphys in November at Brixton Academy! Going with two mates so it should be brill. Then I'm seeing Muse at the Hallam FM arena the following weekend then the Levellers the week after. November looks like a good month!

Slowly getting back to normal after a fortnight down deep south west. Made my 17th ascent of Bleaklow on Sunday, took two friends up to the Bleaklow Stones summit (628m/2060ft). Was rainy with drizzle, low cloud and strong winds but going the quick, easy and safe way we got to the top and back without getting too wet or miserable.
The route is - get the bus to the end of the Westend Inlet then walk up the track through the Westend Valley and follow it up out onto the shoulder of Ronksley Moor. Due to the rain we detoured down the track to the Lower Small Clough shooting cabin/bothy. Very nice to get shelter and dry and sign the visitors' book. A lul in the rain at 11:30 tempted us back onto Ronksley Moor following the ridge path until it forks and went left, over the head of Grinah Grain then up a stiff 70m slope to Grinah Stones.
The rain came hard and heavy and added to the wind made it very cold. The mist kept rising then lowering, never fully clearing Bleaklow Stones, but it's silent, stealthy movement was enchanting. We decided that we may as well go to the top as we had already spent 2 hours in the rain and another hour wouldn't make much of a difference. It didn't and infact, it was calmer and drier in the mist on the top.
How lovley it was to be back up here, my favourite place in the entire world. No view today but the damp rocks, whistling breeze and dancing mist were magical in their own right. There is something undefinable about the place, something that makes it the most heavenly place on Earth. It is Heaven.
Thankfully my friends liked it a lot, despite not seeing much and it was a pleasant hour we had on the top. Then we began the descent, back to Grinah Stones then over Round Hill where we were treated to a lovley wild view over Ronksley and Howden and on to the shooting cabin for a rest. The final descent was along the path above the deep gash of Linch Clough, dramatic and easy walking in the sun, which had finally decided to come out.
All in all, it was a lovley day. My friends enjoyed it and want to return, we all got to the top (yes, I know Bleaklow Head is 5m higher, but massivley inferior) and found it easy. Bleaklow is, and will probably always be, my favourite 2000ft hill/mountain. Nothing comes close in terms of size, variety of scenery, wildness and magic. Bleaklow is King!
Jake

Crap Joke

2006-08-18T15:37:00.000+01:00

Crap joke I made up in Cornwall :
Q) Why do windbreaks smell?
A) They break wind.
Very funny isn't it?

My Crap Recount of My Last Fortnight Down South West

2006-08-15T16:13:00.000+01:00

I'm BACK!!!!
Finished my two week holiday upon Dartmoor and down in Hayle near the Penwith Plateau. A very interesting fortnight it was indeed. Firstly, I climbed 17 hills on Dartmoor in four and a half days, walking about 60 miles and having a thoroughly good time.

Spent 9 hours in the rain crossing the North Moor on Saturday, went by Yes Tor (619m)(the finest summit on the moor, my second favourite 2000ft'er), Cranmere Pool, Cut Hill (603m) and Broad Down (539m) to Bellever Youth Hostel. Was very cold, wet and windy, saw very little, ate very little.

On the Sunday I managed to complete the double ridge walk I tried last year, having glorious weather and only one shower. An easy morning's walk over Bellever and Laughter Tor's to Dartmeet was followed by a slow, idle stroll over Sharp Tor (380m), Yar Tor (413m), Corndon Down (436m) and Riddon Ridge (380m) for a very gentle eight hour day.

Monday was a little worse. My plans to climb Hamel Down had been foiled by heavy morning rain so I took the bus to Postbridge and climbed North Hessary Tor (517m) then went on to do Great Mis Tor (538m), one of the very finest hills I've ever done. Like Yes Tor it has a wonderful peaky shape, a huge rim of crags and a sharp airy summit with varied and blanced views capturing the wild essence of the moor and also giving long prospects into Cornwall. With the rain looking a long way off over the Channel, I crossed the rough moor over Black Dunghill and Lydford Tor to climb Beardown Tors (513m), a hill that beat me last year. Alas the rain came and it was a miserable trudge back up from Two Bridges to Princetown for the bus back.

Tuesday was, by contrast, the best day walking I have ever had on my own. A glorious sunny start saw me heading out over Cator Common and Challacombe to climb the huge Hamel Down, a gigantic 532m ridge that dominates the eastern moor. I'de wanted to climb it for a long time and now I had my chance. It lived up to my excitement, a superb moorland ridge with tremendous views over to South Wales, Portland Bill and inner Dartmoor. Leaving the hill I climbed Hookney Tor (497m) then did an out-and-back up Challacombe Down (463m), a charming little oddity. Birch Tor (487m) followed, a somewhat bland hill and I raced down to the delightful Warren House Inn at 3:30pm for a meal. Having filled up and as the weather was beautiful - warm with broken clouds and no chance of rain - I decided to do another three hills.
Assycombe Hill (497m) was a slog but a pleasant one and was a little charmer with its comfy couch and good views south, making up for the intrusive Fernworth Forest. Descending to a col, it was a tiring out-and-back up White Ridge (506m) which saw me plunge up to my neck in a bog and get chased by some "docile" bulls. Far calmer was Merripit Hill (449m) where I joined the road for a slow evening descent into Postbridge. I was feeling tired by now but not wanting to go to the youth hostel early I went up over Lakehead Hill to Bellever Tor (443m) to watch a stunning sunset over North Hessary Tor then descend quickly through the woods to the hostel.
Over eleven hours out walking over seven new hills at my own pace, going where I want, when I want, how I want in glorious Dartmoor weather. Freedom, and that is why I love walking the wild hills on my own.

On the Wednesday I went down to Cornwall to meet my family. This was a sad day for I did not want to leave Dartmoor. Over the four days I had fallen madly in love with it and had plans to climb many more tors and hills. Alas all good things must come to an end and after climbing Bellever Tor again on my way to the bus stop at Postbridge I was in a depressed mood. The bus rolled over the moor, dropping down the spectacular western edge and onto to lowlands before entering Plymouth.
I like Plymouth, it had a beautiful, Europen style city centre with a wide street leading up to the Hoe above the sea. Under the sun I wandered about the sea front and the streets, delighting in being an "annonymous student tourist", browsing through the shops and soaking up the atmosphere. Catching the 3:50pm train to Penzance (I got off at Hayle), I sunk to a new low.
Now I would be swapping my glorious independance for the tight grip of my family in a caravan. The crowded train hurtling head first into Cornwall drained my buoyant mood and there was nearly a tear in my eye when I got off at Hayle and saw the train slunk away backed by the Penwith hills.
Yet, I still had another hour to go, the three mile walk up to Atlantic Coast Caravan Holiday HELL Park. Tedious and dull, I hated being at sea level having spent the past 100 hours over 1000ft, only dropping below that once for about 10 minutes at Dartmeet. Entering the park, I first met my idiot brother and a friend then climbed a 70m high sand dune and gazed, sad to be away from beloved Dartmoor and back in Cornwall. But at least this was my last family holiday.

The next week and a half were ok, best when I was away from my mother and goddawful stepfather and halfbrother and with other friends on the campsite. Especially good was when I went up to Newquay for a look around the surf festival with some older friends of family. Had a shopping spree (got loads of necklaces and bangles) and delighted in the eye candy, made even better when some returned the look heehee! Another day I was stuck with the family at Kynance Cove and wandered off, eventually discovering a 1/4 mile long knife-edge arete sticking out into the sea called The Horse. With a 60m drop on both sides, it was magnificently exposed and demanded some brilliant scrambling, making it one of the finest ridge traverses I have ever done. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that after going to the end and back, I turned around and did it again. Marvellous.

I did some bouldering but my weak arms always let me down so I just stuck to scrambling and lazying about. Most evenings were funish, went to the campsite bar and had a Jack Daniels or five. Yet somehow I always yearned to come home, even when screaming along to the Chili Peppers drunkenly barging about the campsite disturbing everyone at gone midnight. We left Cornwall on Saturday evening after tea in Launceston, by the A30 which exis over the River Tamar under a copse of trees. I used to always look back to that copse, dreaming of returning again. This time I did not look back. I looked forward to Dartmoor and future trips to the Lakes, North Pennines and Torridon.
I will return to Cornwall to climb its many lovley hills. But not with my family and not for a long time. Sitting on a beach looking (not perving!) at pretty girls in bikinis or climbing a mountain with mates meeting pretty walker girls then going to a gig and moshing? I know what I'll be doing!!!!
Jake

F**K OFF OUR PEAKS!!!

2006-07-28T17:41:00.000+01:00

F**K OFF OUR PEAKS!!!

Right then, I'm buggering off down deep south west for a while and during that time I shall be penning the opening article to a new magazine I want to launch. But - I need YOUR contributions!

The magazine is called F**K OFF OUR PEAKS and is a radical hillwalking/eco/political punk magazine - praising the glories of Mother Nature and rebelling against the scum who are damaging her.

Main principles / ideas of the magazine are - to praise and encourage people to appreciate the natural world around them, to rebel against the dominatrix scum who destory Mother Nature and control us in the name of profit, to rebel in general against authority and to fuck the status quo - promote individuality and love, peace and respect with Mother Nature and with oneself.

So, any articles/essays/diaries/poems or even drawings on any of the above themes would be most welcome. Doesn't have to be too explicit - a short piece attacking the stupid Outward Bound and Duke Of Edinburgh Award goups for example - they are a nice example of large groups and organisations taking over the outdoors, setting guidelines and rules whilst taking out the indivudual experiance and discovery.
Also, any stuff on good bands/gigs, political rallies (like Free Tibet Campaign) and other observations are welcome.

Send all material to - jakehillwalker@yahoo.co.uk and I promise that ALL EARLY MATERIAL WILL BE USED!!! - if not in the first issue but certainly in the first few issues.

The plan is to start as a free double printed A4 sheet, handed out at selected places to gauge a reaction. From thereon I hope to expand it and eventually put a price on it so I pay contributors (which will be meagre pay), put some back into publication, take a tiny bit myself and give the rest to Greenpeace and the Free Tibet Campaign.

So, please. please. PLEASE SEND ME GOOD WRITING!!!! Why sit at home and complain about the fucked up world?
DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! RISE UP AND REBEL AGAINST THE SCUM WHO CONTROL US AND DESTORY THE PLANET IN THE NAME OF GREED!!!!

Jakexxx

Leaving My Social Love Nest To Live Life More

2006-07-27T18:46:00.000+01:00

I pulled it off! Somehow, I managed to arrange for eight of my close friends to go a for walk in the local countryside for a picnic then go back to a park for a few hours "chilling out". Despite the ravages of their backstabbing and bitchery, it worked and although my best mate pulled out at the last minute as did another misery guts I know, the one who hosted the not-quite-so-good party on Friday, it was a charmingly pleasant day.
The thunderstorms held off and it was lovley and warm, the couple of hours in the park being really nice. Yet, as I walked back home over the fields with a friend, it dawned on me just how much I'm going to miss everyone, my dearly hated yet loved friends.Why I felt this way I do not know, it has never occured before. Perhaps it is because we have been friends for a few years, close ones for a good one and a half. I feel attatched to them and part of them, come Saturday I'll be on my own for five days speaking to whoever is at the youth hostel, and that is if they are social creatures. Some never said a word to me last year.
Is this a sign of my deep, caring love for my friends? I think it is, I've only ever felt this feeling when leaving Peakland to go on holiday elsewhere, and believe me, I love Peakland more than anyone and anything. So I am extremely happy tonight, yet somewhat saddened at the thought of being distant from the lovley little oddball wierdo social group.
However, the thought of new adventures, new discoveries and new people spurr me on. Dartmoor is so close and I cannot wait. Leave the past, move forward and live life. Many people forget that life exists strongest beyond the boundaries of normal life, you have got to move forward, break forward new horizons and delight in new experiances. That is life. I'll be living life more than I've lived it in the past year when I get on Dartmoor.
Roll on Saturday!
Jake

Confused In Love and Hate With My Friends

2006-07-26T20:16:00.000+01:00

Well, it is drawing nearer to D-Day folks. Dartmoor Day that is, the day when I'll be crossing the North Moor from Meldon to Bellever via Yes Tor, High Willhays, Cut Hill and the Sandy Hole Pass. Already it has forcast heavy rain, which I am delighted about as it did that last year and I didn't see a thing.
So, this blisteringly hot week has been a frenzy of doing all the things I should have done weeks ago - get train ticket, sort old bag out, make lists, get extra contact lense fluid, that kind of shit. Also, in between bouts, I have been pathetically bored and getting irritated, my bloody friends don't do anything and are all a bunch of backstabbing bitches, things they do do are behind others' backs.
Yes, as much as I love them to pieces, I hate them to pieces. This deep love/hate relationship with my friends was revealed at the party on Friday when I understood it for the first time, did not know what to do and ran off to a dark alleyway to mull it over, pretending to be poetically inspired as an excuse.
It is very odd to me. I love and care all of my friends dearly, more than I think they know, without them I would be at a loss, yet deep down, I hate everything about them, their backstabbing, relentlessly bitchy and hypocritical views. But then I love them so much I would not want to let my anger hurt them but then I do hate them so much. See how confusing it gets?
Someone once told me that if you love someone dearly you have to hate them as well as you wouldn't be able to feel that love. It gets so awkward, especially when you fancy a close friend. One minute I'm talking to her and my heart is throbbing with love, a minute later I realise I hate her and so on. I leave, decide I shan't bother asking her out when I'm so confused.
I'm ending this here for I'm too confused myself. Perhaps a fortnight away from them will do me good? I hope so.
Oh, if any of my friends are reading this - I do honestly love and care about you dearly, I hate seeing you upset and in pain. Just understand I hate you as well.
Jake

Nuts Magazine Males Are Gay

2006-07-24T20:55:00.000+01:00

Friday night was a party night at a good mate's house. And it was fun as you would expect, a lot of us, all having a good time, talking, being silly and having a bit to drink. I didn't drink much, only three cans as I had the second Writing Squad Day the next day. It was the poetry day and as I cannot write poetry on a good day, doing it with a hangover would only lead to bigger embarrsment than what I got.
Despite being totally useless at poetry and being embarrassed when I had to read one out and a deafening silence shook the room afterwards, (say what you want Danny, I'm not reading my poetry ever again) it was a fun and interesting day. Very nice indeed to meet everyone again and two new and charming faces.

Now here's a point - I've decided to pain my fingernails black and pink. Why? - because I want to and I think its cool. Black and pink are the best colours. Yet, why do so many people stare at me or ask wierd questions, the intonation in their voices suggesting that I may be homosexual in some way? Sorry, but I'm perfectly straight thank you. It's people's stupid perceptions, pink=gay.
Fuck that. I know all this colour/connotation malarkey but just why do people have to make a goddamn point of being so wierd about things. No, I will not subject myself to follow the fucking stereotypes of what a "male" should be - a Nuts magazine reading, jean and stupid slogan t-shirt wearing pretty boy cunt with an eye for stupid materialistic bimbo girls, an obesssion with his pretty looks and silly spikey gelled hair. "Metrosexual" and "alpha male" they call them. I call them an urgent psychatric case myself. Or just "fucking cunts" would do.
For godsake fellow males - do not follow the stereotypes, do not let Nuts, Zoo, Maxim and all the other stupid "male magazines" written by sexually confused male egomaniacs dictate your life. Do what you think is cool, dress and wear what you want.
Either way, if you read Nuts and the like, it's probably because you're worried about your sexuality and have to appear to be "male". Are you?
Jake

Sweets and Terror - The Final Final Day of Term

2006-07-21T15:47:00.000+01:00

The time has come, the Final Day Of Term is but over and six, long glorious weeks spread out ahead.
They spread out in a beautiful pattern, dotted with patches of coursework, holidays, parties and days out walking. There is a somewhat odd feeling about leaving school for the holidays. On the Final Day, the old, tedious routine and everyday sights that plague life suddenly become precious moments to savour, each minute is a luxurious moment.
Yes, it was a fun day, went in all day, only had one lesson, did no work, hung about with my mates. Then in the Final Final Lesson, it builds up to a great urge to get out of there, the leave and start the long hot summer holidays.
Finally, the Final Final Lesson ends and we leave, never has the school seemed so happy, so bright. This moment is the culumation of a year's struggle, it is the moment every schoolkid lives for and they have every right to savour its sweet, jucy taste. I did. We all did. I also think every teacher did. Not sure about the parents though.
Why parents fear the summer holidays so much is a mystery to me. It is one of the few times you get to spend some quality time with your lovley little son/daughter and try and break the heavy influence Mrs Bitch The Teacher has had since the previous September.
Yep, it's a good 'un this summer holiday. Cherish it, I will.
Right, I'm off to get pissed.
Jake

- Addendum (again!) - got Writing Squad Day 2 tomorrow!!!! Woo!! Can't wait, just hope I'm not too hungover....

Homework Excuses

2006-07-19T19:56:00.000+01:00

I cannot do homework.
This, last, notorious, final week of summer term has seen one bogged down with a huge geography forest biome prejoect to do. I've got until Friday, the especially dreaded Last Day of Term, to get it done but I'm not going to. I can't.
Why I've left it until this late is a complex matter. In simple terms, I've spent the three weeks I was supposed to do it in reading and coping with a luxuriously huge pile of other work, coursework in the equally luxurious heat. Then I go to a party on Saturday and drink for 10 hours, get horrifically pissed and end up with an exceptionally fine specimine of a hangover. So to cure it, I got an early bus to Hartington and scale a few hills in the 30-degree heat. This of course gives on the charms of heat stroke and I spend Monday feeling shit.
So that is the three days I set aside to do the bastard project (I loath that word!) I waste getting drunk, getting a hangover and getting heat stroke. Now, in the Final Week of Term, crank up the heat to 32 degrees and thow in piss-your-pants holiday excitement into the cauldron and you get a spell which makes writing bullshit hard, let alone high standard A-level project work.
So, it's tough shit. Mrs Teacher, you've had my excuse, like it or loath it. Anyway, just be glad it's one less to mark and more time drinking wine in the garden. That's what I call homework.
Jakex

Addendum -I don't understand why I've just written a long essay on not doing homework. Must be the heat that's making me write bullshit I don't care about. Ohh, but the essay on industrial fishing, now that will get me a grade, a place in university and a load of debt...!

In The Summertime I Long For Winter

2006-07-17T19:41:00.000+01:00

It's hot. It's 32 degrees above freezing. I am very sweaty.
Now do not get the wrong impression here, I love summer as much as the next person does, licking ice cream, late night beach barbeques and not worrying about rain, all the usual cliches, but personally, I prefer the other seasons.
Summer now means "endless heatwaves", which to me means "I'm going to fucking sweat to death and stink like a pig for eight weeks". Aside from that, an open blue sky with view-restricting haze is about as pleasant to look at as mist. It ruins the point of climbing a hill. You see nothing and there are no magnificent shaddows dappling the land, adding a splash of contrast and picturesque beauty.
The sun gives misleading impressions in summer. One is tempted to think it would be perfect for a long ridge walk, but the heat makes the effort exhausting. 5 miles in 30 degree heat is torture enough, let alone 15.
On a cold, crisp winters' day however, it is magnificent. One can see for miles and the hills are gained with minimal effort. Spring and autumn make for varied weather, exciting and interesting. Winter may be the season where everything is dead, but how full of life are we and other anmials when we spend our days laying on the ground, wasting away under the decaying heat?
What worries me most of all, is that this summer is the future. More endless days of this and much worse are the consequences of our mutilation of Mother Nature. How many more days will we have when the Peakland hills are covered with snow and the view stretches from the Dales to Snowdonia? Perhaps our beloved treasured memories of diving into a cool sea under blistering sun are about to become common occurences and intense snowball fights a thing of the past?
There is no "bad" season. But summer does get tiring when there is no variation, when the Watershed Of England is dry to the bone and when work becomes an unbearable task.
Also, I'm sick to death of sweating so much, no amount of deodorant will work. So, would it be possible to turn the heat down to about 18 degress and give us a damn good thunderstorm tonight? That would make me very happy indeed.
Jake

My Head Hurts!

2006-07-16T19:17:00.000+01:00

Note to self : do not headbang on a trampoline when very drunk. It will only make the hangover worse.

2006-07-14T17:15:00.000+01:00

Right. We are but a week away from the End of Term (EoT) and the start of the notorious Six Weeks Holiday. This Final Week Of Term is usually one where kids sweat their way through generally easier and more relaxed lessons. The Year 11's and 13's are away and school takes a quiet, sun-kissed yellow feel, the smell of sun cream and sweat fills the air. Girls look even more attractive and everyone, apart from the maths and physics teachers, has a smile on their face.
The only blip in this harmony is if you happen to be a Year 12 student such as oneself. No, this isn't a time for relaxing and ignoring the cursed homework pile, but one for intensive research and long evenings sat at the desk. The exam season may be over but the start of A2 brings endless research, new ideas and information to be digested, a pile of essays to be written and a huge sackful of research subjects to be picked through.
No, it is not fun. Reasearching Mao's rise to power could never be fun, even if you were the odd sort who didn't know what fun was. Nor could drafting a coursework essay on issues arising from intensive fishing. Going to see the Chili Peppers at the Don Valley Stadium, taking a huge walk over some hills and having a drunken party is fun.
Which helpfully explains why I've been up to my neck in work this week and shall be until the middle of next. Odd, it's taken me four paragraphs to say this. Which is odd. And wasteful of time when I could be getting on with another essay. Or even going for a wander up a local hill with a mate. Which sounds much nicer than work.
Jake

The Best Day Of My Life So Far - Red Hot Chili Peppers at the Don Valley Stadium

2006-07-13T19:25:00.000+01:00

It is now a week since I had the *best fucking night of my puny little life*. No shit here. The Red Hot Chili Peppers at the Don Valley Stadium were so utterly amazing and fun, not even getting pissed and getting off with some gorgeous emo-slag at a party, comes close.
It was unbearably hot in Sheffield as we got t-shirts (cool blue colour) and crammed onto the tram, full of other excited random people, eventually getting in the queue (ahead of some mates who'de been there an hour before us!). A long and highly excited wait followed before we finally got in and raced to the front, much to the annoyance of the attendants in their gay yello t-shirts.
Wow, what an atmosphere there was. I hate to use the word, but it really was "buzzing". Soon we met my good friend Liam and his girlfriend and got stood up cramming forward. It was five pm and I'd downed my water. Heehee, no more sitting down and no drink for the next six hours.
Soon someone had got a load of beech balls in the air, tossing them over the crowd. Almost felt like a real festival, especially when the plastic beer bottles started being thrown. Yay! At last the first band came on. Chick Chick Chick !!! were musically alright but my god the lead singer was a fucking ponce,..if only I had a glass bottle.... Nonetheless we grooved away until they fucked off after half an hour. Gay name for a band too, I first imagined them coming on in pink chicken suits for some reason...
Beer bottle throwing resumed. I loved it, though my friends hated it, just not too keen on getting piss in my eye but who cares! By this time I could smell myself, despite having my t-shirt off and using it as a sweatrag.
Half hour later the totally groovy Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals came on, wow they were good and very cool. Brilliant to dance to and jump about, funky! After an hour, they buggered off and there was a long wait for the Chilis to come on. As the day slowly died, the crowd got restless-more bottle throwing!!!! God it was so fun watching my friend cower with fright as I slung a bottle close range and nose-bleeded someone. Hahahaha.
And then. Oh holy dog shit on a fucking mountaintop the crowd went so fucking mental when Flea came on and started Can't Stop. By the time the rest of the band had come on, we'de nearly pissed ourselves with excitement and were continually 3ft in the air. It was just so brilliant, so perfect, singing with 50,000 other excited people to Can't Stop. This is when I left my friends and went off the rails, jumping with more random people, banging my head like a loon.
They did Dani California, Snow and Charlie early on then some others which I didn't know but soon picked up the words. By The Way was just fucking awesome, I found Thom and Damien and freaked some girls out by headbanging hard and fast. What a song, so bloody perfect.
Leaving them for the mosh pit, they did a few classics like Scar Tissue and Californication. It never seemed to end and my god, though physically fucked, I've never had so much fun. To keep energy up, I had some Kendal Mint Cake, which does look a bit like crack-cocaine to the unwary.
For the encore, they did Under The Bridge (my favourite) and an absolutely mental version of Give It Away. It was just so much fun going beserk with random kids to one of my favourite bands...ahh..and then it had to end at about 10:45pm.
Christ I've never felt so high, just wandering aimlessly chatting to other people about how fucking brilliant it had been. Eventually I met the others and we crammmed into the back of Liam's car, singing loudly along to the Greatest Hits and barging into McDonalds for a much needed drink. Odd, but a few people had passed out because of the heat. I got home at midnight.
In honesty, the best thing about the night was being there, at the front in a crowd of 50,000 other people, crushed together but happy, talking and just generally going mental to a brilliant band. Such a great atmosphere, such a good night. It could have only been made better by getting off with an attractive girl then climbing a mountain the next day. But it was pretty close to perfect without and anyway, I hate perfection.
Rock on!
Jake

My True Love Is But A Small Lump Of Ground Called Bleaklow Stones

2006-07-04T16:49:00.000+01:00

Well, I went up Bleaklow on Sunday and had the best day out this year. Bleaklow is perfection, it is a mountain of the highest order, a huge uplift of massive proportions, combing all the key features of a mountain within it's own prevailing magic. Not too high, "only" 633m/2077ft but dear Mother Nature it stands high above others, here height counts for very little when such charm, such views, such wilderness abound in enormous quantity.
The three and half hours I spent on the summit ridge, traversing from Bleaklow Stones to Bleaklow Head and back were perhaps the happiest of the year so far, on par with the Alkaline Trio gig last February. A hot open blue sky above a mottled green and black plateau ridge, all over 2000ft and not a soul for miles. Whilst the normally breathtaking views were limited by the haze, it did keep eyes on the plateau, picking out subtle details that enriched the whole experiance.
For some reason though, it is the lower of Bleaklow's three 2000ft tops that my heart truly resides upon. Bleaklow Head (2077ft) lacks overall views, Bleaklow Hill (2069ft) is almost perfect but Bleaklow Stones (2066ft) is simply the finest summit on any hilltop/mountaintop anywhere, ever.
I sat for an hour, just gazing and marvelling in total solace, my heart beating in complete love with the place. Intense and empowering, one could not bear to leave. My mind was at total peace, harmony, my nirvana.
Quite oddly, it was in total contrast to the previous day when I got drunk at Thom's brilliant party, had great fun then had to put Thom to bed when he threw up over me and passed out due to excessive beer and lack of a solid food base. What a contrast. What a life

An Unsusual Foray into the Sheffield Jungle

2006-07-01T11:47:00.000+01:00

Well, my lord I am amazed. For the first time ever I have succesfully managed to dive into Sheffield city centre, fly around and get what I wanted quickly then get the next bus home. I know, it is not all that amazing.
Yet, for some strange reason one has always ended up getting a later bus home, either due to missing one or ending up browsing the Metal section of HMV in search of new stuff, though they seldom do. The heat was unbearable and combined with a bag full of heavy books on Mao Zedong, a man as evil as Hitler, George Bush and the Pope, it wasn't much fun. Also, Fargate happened to be overcrowded and was split by a row of fast-food (or should I say "fat-food"?) stalls. A horrific smell of sweat, fried onions, hot dogs added to the lemming-like crowds, pollution and intense heat, it was scene of utmost dread and fear.
Thankfully, one did managed to race down, nearly knocking a few people over, and get to the bus stop, jump on the bus and flee home. A short rest of A2 coursework awaits the next few hours then a mate's "gathering" later, blissfully without any football.
So, I sit here in a state of astonishment and joy, that I spared myself more than an hour od torture in Sheffield city centre. Of course, it was worth it, I have lots of books for my History assignment and a new pink belt.
Jake

University of Claughstrophobia

2006-06-23T20:35:00.000+01:00

Went to Birmingham University Open Day today with school. Crikey it's rather large and I quickly left my friends and went exploring, the quite attractive campus. Attended talks on student finance, geology, philosophy and English.
Philosophy was fascinating and I was nearly won over until the English lecture which reaffirmed my passion for our language - the science of it, writing and literature. Not overly convinced about studying it there myself as the joint English-Creative writing is mostly literature when the language is my favoured area.
The day was swelteringly hot, almost unbearable at times and a three hour coach trip home to Dronfield made my rampant claughtrophobia worse. It's not much fun, when you're trapped in the middle of a huge city, utterly confused as to where one is then thrown into the dungeon that is our coach, dreaming longingly of open Pennine skies and distant vistas.
Alas, I was the only one suffering, my friends, who'se souls are in the cities, really enjoyed it and loved the coach trip back. Hmm, I found the day thoroughly useful and interesting but not exactly a pleasant experiance. Sheffield, Leeds or Newcastle are more preferable universities to go to.
Jake

An A2 Dawn over the School of Thatcherite Headmistress

2006-06-21T19:44:00.000+01:00

So, I'm back at school now for five weeks until the summer holiday starting the A2 course. Doing English Language, Geography and History but shall pick up English Literature AS to make up for dropping Physics last year.
Already bogged down with work and not getting enough time for writing but I don't really mind as I love the subjects I'm studying. Got the huge coursework/research sections until October, so I'm going to do the Scotish Clearences for History, over-farming the oceans for Geography and investigate how people address you on the hills and in the city, comparing tone, language, length of speech so gauge levels of "friendliness and rudeness". Be really fascinating to study.
It is rather nice seeing friends I didn't see in the exam month and the school is undeniably pleasant, though rules are significantly stricter since the new headmistress arrived. Already come down hard on attendance and Post-16 uniform-we aren't allowed to wear shorts and seem to be victimised whereas the lower years still get away with murder. So far, she is turning into a lesbian school teacher version of Margaret Thatcher-and that isn't a good thing.

Happy Father's Day Corporate Executives

2006-06-20T20:16:00.000+01:00

Sunday, 18th June. Father's Day. Something which neither me nor my father believe in, as in Mother's Day and St.Valentine's Day. Yes, I think those days are a waste of time and no doubtedly this will arouse the wrath of many.
My problem does not lie with my family and friends. I love my parents dearly, and though single, I would love my girlfriend. However, I do this all the time and not just on one day of the year. If you love or deeply respect someone, why not show it all the time instead of on one day of the year? I'm sure we all do, but we never think about it.
The social taboo of forgetting this trio of dates is horriffic. Laughed at and mocked by my friends on St. Valentine's Day because a)I didn't recieve/send any cards, b)I accused my participating friends of falling for a great evil capitalist scam. Which it is.
Again, the poweful capitalist companies control, saturating us with a powerful propaganda campaign that if we don't buy, we are an outcast and bad. Many fall for this and give plenty of their hard earned money to the rich company executives for something they needn't buy in the first place.
These dates are nothing but a corporate profit gain, soulless and meaningless unless you have it in your heart all the time, in which case you wouldn't need physical gifts to prove it.
Jake

Summer of Dartmoor Love

2006-06-16T19:53:00.000+01:00

After a much anticipated wait, Jake finally returns to update blog. Hmm, got my Dartmoor holiday booked now, which means I shall be spending four days in the rain on a bleak moor, which is about as good as it gets if you ask me. E
Especially when I'll be returning to the fantastic meals and warm company at Bellever youth hostel every evening, wandering over England's second biggest wilderness (after the North Pennines) and getting drunk in pubs...all without parents or annoying brothers. All that I need is a nice girl to make it better, but then again, I kinda love Dartmoor more than any girl.
So, Day 1=climb Yes Tor and High Willhays (2031ft) then head south over Cranmere Pool and Cut Hill (1981ft), turning south east to the East Dart and Bellever.
Day 2=Bellever Tor, Dartmeet, Corndon Tor, Riddon Ridge, Get Pissed
Day 3=Hammeldown Tor, Challacombe Down, Get Pissed
Day 4=Beardown Tors, Higher White Tor, Get Pissed
Day 5=Get bus to Tavistock and Plymouth, explore city, get train into St.Ives, have beach barbeque, get pissed and put my feet up.
I'll add more as things develop.

The Sun Does Shine Sometimes On Black Hill

2006-06-06T12:59:00.000+01:00

My brother and I atop Black Hill (582m/1908ft), Peakland. A hill that rarely sees any sunshine, mist, cloud and rain are its children. Here we are, enjoying a day of 7 hours of unbroken sunshine doing a walk that took us two years and three attempts to do.

Proving One Does Indeed Exist, Which Is Rather Hard To Belive

2006-06-02T20:36:00.000+01:00

I thought I ought to put a picture of me up here, so here is photographic evidence of my non-digital existence. Taken in February '06 at a friend's 17th birthday party. I was drunk at this stage thanks to guiness, champagne and lambrusco, as was my ex whose tits are visible in the background, and moshing to fucking Bryan Adams for a laugh. Then we put Trivium on...(note: I'm wearing my beloved My Chemical Romance t-shirt)
Jake

2006-06-02T11:54:00.000+01:00

Two days ago I made a forray into Sheffield to meet a writing tutor to discuss my writing. It was hot and sunny, the crowds were heaving and the pollution terrible, a bead of sweat ran down me as I dived into a music store to buy a cd for a friend (Jimmy Eat World).
Meeting my tutor we sat on a bench in the middle of Fargate, the main shopping precinct, and commercial heart of the city. We started talking about life and the people around us. Here we were at the centre of civilisation, surrounded by fellow humans, our genetical friends. Yet we were as far away from civilisation as is possible. Thousands of people passed us, perhaps just catching us within their gaze but otherwise we were completely invisible to them, we did not exist.
Had I got up and talked to a passer by, they would most likley dismiss me and ignore me, adding to the feeling of being totally isolated in the cradle of humanity. Everyone was and is but just another number, irrelevent slaves to the modern comsumerist world where there is no time to stretch social tendons and enjoy being civilised to fellow people. Sad, tragic and quite unnerving, is this the eventual fate of humanity?-an urban world where we are all soul-less digits without a care for one another.
Jake

Beautiful Ludlow

2006-05-31T20:47:00.000+01:00

Got back from Ludlow yesterday after climbing 1682ft Corndon Hill in the morning, undoubtedly the finest hill I've ever climbed after Win Hill Pike, the view from the Arenigs and Peakland to the Malverns and Black Mountains is stunning, almost half of Cymru (Wales) is visible.
Ludlow, is one of my favourite towns. It's sited in the huge Teme Valley, just where is picks up a load of streams draining the Shropshire hills and at bend with a magnificent group of hills, the High Vinnalls Group, above. Titterstone Clee Hill, the darling queen of Shropshire beccons gracefully to the east whilst to the west are the Welsh Marches, hillwandering heaven away from everything.
The town is beautiful, there is no other word to describe it. The high street is lined with old timber framed buildings containing mostly small, privately owned shops and two excellent bookshops. Almost every part of it is well kept and fits into the place, a model for many modern towns. Yet, there is beauty outside the wooded hills and valley and the architecture, for the women are stunning.
Sorry, but they really are gorgeous. Sat in a tea shop (yes, my friend Redfern prefers tea rooms over pubs, poor bloke), I caught the eye of a immensly pretty blonde girl who seemed to stare back. Oh, how I would have loved to gone and talked to her but alas Redfern, who thinks that men fancying women are wierd, dragged me away for a lecture on the sins of alcohol. (I'd let it slip that I got pissed the other week).
Perhaps the only criticism of Ludlow is that it lacks punks and emos. I don't expect places to have punk hillwalkers but just a few emo kids to talk to please??? Mind you, Redfern would probably kill me....
But then, when one rips his eyes away from the girls and looks towards Titterstone Clee Hill, girls don't matter for very little can match Titterstone's beauty. Her sublime conical pointy shape, queen-like, dancing and curvacious with just a few pimples (the masts), ohh she captivates my heart and calls me to be with her. Yes, it would be really nice, but even better with a more human girl in hand...(dream on!)
Jake

2006-05-27T07:59:00.000+01:00

It would seem the time has come when I stretch my Peakland wings and head off south to larger mountains. Yes, in approximetly 32 minutes and 17 seconds I shall be heading down to the lovley town of Ludlow in Shropshire to climb the mysterious Radnor Forest Mountains and the Stiperstones.
The Radnors are a complete mystery, a huge dome of three 2100ft moorland mountains bang in the middle of the rural heavens that is the Welsh Marches. Our circuit shall take us over all three and a bonus peak called The Whimble, maybe then we shall know their secret.
Ludlow is quite one of my favourite places, despite it having a lack of punks and emos, for it is undeniably charming and well groomed but not in a snotty upper class way (I hate the upper classes) and the girls are exeptionally beautiful (but sadly don't warm to Derbyshire lads). So, whilst my friend may force me abstain from the pubs, I shall be sipping the finest teas in De Gray's and marvelling at the views over the Teme Valley from the church.
So, until approximately 6:30pm and 16 seconds on Tuesday, goodbye.
Jake
Oh, last night I recieved quite some praise from a fellow member of the Writing Squad. Rather touching and kind, I've rarely blushed so much...

Singing the joys of a revision break on Lidgate Hill

2006-05-25T19:22:00.000+01:00

Today I went for a walk with my best mate Thom and my brother in the sunshine, a rather rare sight during these days of drought. Supposed to be revising but when it is this nice, the hills call more than ones' textbook.
Down though the shaddow jungle of Holmesfield Woods and out onto a lane which leads up to the 295m/986ft summit of Lidgate Hill, the nearest Peakland hill from my home. The hills were alive with a silent cacophony of noise, lit up a vivid green which acted as a stunning foreground to Flask Edge and the moors of the Eastern Edges. In particular, Brown Edge/Flask Edge, the 395m/1295ft high hill next to Lidgate, appeared to be quite a mountain, making a mockery of its relatively low height.
One cannot but sing highly of the joys of sitting atop a hill on a warm day, especially an unfrequented local gem like dear Lidgate Hill. Yet, it baffled Thom and I why so many other 17 year olds would deem us "sad" and "boring". Out here is life, life far greater than in a town centre, relaxation of a higher quality than sitting in a park, excercise more beneficial than a sweaty gym.
A good gig this evening, going wild in a mosh pit would really make the day a perfect one. But as I live near Sheffield, there wasn't and so it was back into the revision textbook I go. Roll on tomorrow's AS geography exam...
Jake

Rides On Pegasus

2006-05-23T20:38:00.000+01:00

RIDES ON PEGASUS

Desperate when my love has but failed,
Upon faint vain felines whose hearts I once possessed.
From encounters in the glorious mind, brought by the devil of reality
In a moment whence I did not abstain
From raconteur, liquor and benefit of untainted sight

Desperation satisfied, I took to the skies, rode upon Pegasus
Dazed, nerves exuding the full bodied masculinity of Hercules
An emotionally real daydream, did but resume its animate form,
The etching of events at the forefront of mind.

Daydream dwindled, the wings were clipped
I awoke alone atop the forlorn belvedere where I was born
Examination resits, the notorious game of love
Desperation to pass and ride upon Pegasus again.

Jake Robertson Sat 8th – Mon 11th April ‘06

In other words, my teenage love life (that is with girls, not hills) is not exactly up to scratch. I wrote this poem on a bus home from Sheffield, drunk and desperate to write having spent a day having intense but ever so enjoyable lessons with a writing group I joined called The Writing Squad (please don't laugh at the name), meeting other young and really fascinating writers.
The amount of talent in the group is amazing and their styles are all wonderfully different, one or two are excellent poets. I'm not a natural poet, I struggle valiantly writing even the smallest things but this somehow came more naturally after that day, making it the fourth poem in a year that I actually kept and didn't throw away. Thank you people for your inspiration and also for the beer and whiskey which helped.
Jake

yohoho, looky here folks!

2006-05-23T17:04:00.000+01:00

well, it would appear I have a blog to rant in along with my lunatic twin brother (Bo).
Right, firstly, you bastard yanks won't let me put my birthdate the proper way around : day first, then month, then year. Not bloody month, day, year. Where's the common sense in that???? The English, and correct way makes logical sense.
Secondly bastard yanks, THANK YOU FOR FUCKING THE WHOLE GODDAMN WORLD UP!!!! I know you American Liberal are not entirely responsible for this (please, come to England, there's plenty of room for you) but the right wing scum who dominate your country have done nothing but bad to the world. Extreme capitalism, extreme greed, extreme wars, extreme exploitation, extreme pollution. Cheers mates!
I think this first post has dealt the right-wing americans (fuck off and rot). Most of it will be stuff on the hills, which my life revolves around, and the joys of being a teenage punk hillwalker.

Jake 23/5/06 (note, the date is the correct way around)

Sunset over Bleaklow

2006-05-23T08:01:00.000+01:00

It's sunset over Bleaklow (Barrow Stones) from above Broadhead Clough on Crow Stones Edge, taken in January 2006. A superb day over the Upper Derwent, Swains Head and Horsestone Naze culminating in one of the most magnificent sunsets I've ever seen, heaven!