Too much monkey business

[Mock Turtle]

More bits of caving

Although I had one near miss with the first caving club I joined, both groups never had any major problems whilst I was active with them, although again, whilst with the second club, there were some incidents that could have been serious. Trying to extend a cave system in Derbyshire (first club), we had built three concrete dams in a narrow stream passage to hold back the small stream whilst we bailed out a short tight sump such that we could explore further. We were nearly trapped on the other side of the sump on the first exploration when the dams were close to over-flowing, and probably entailing a rescue call-out but not life-threatening, although we managed to crawl back before this happened. I believe this was the only time that I had been in a virgin system, that is, the three of us were the only ones to have seen this new section, and no one else had ever been there before. It certainly looked pristine, but unfortunately didn’t extend very far, not that we had much time for sight-seeing, given the urgency of getting back before being trapped.

The cave in which we had our little fright was Oxlow Cavern, and below is an extract from the cave description describing the dams we built - the new find was named after P.B. Smith, but there were three of us who explored this bit - not that I am complaining!

PEAK DISTRICT CAVING - Oxlow Cavern - www.PeakDistrictCaving.info

From North Chamber a large passage continues for 8m past an inlet in roof to reach the head of North Pitch. The small crawl on the right here soon closes down. An anchor in the right wall protects a climb down over boulders to a Y-hang and 6m free-hang to land on a rocky floor. The passage leading off from the bottom is 7m long to The Portcullis, a very low arch on the left leading into The Sewer, a low wet gravely crawl. 5m in a cross rift is met with a high narrow passage off to the left. This is Main Stream Inlet. The low wet crawl continues via a duck for 46m to a right-hand corner and larger walking passage. 5m on is Boulder Chamber, a 12m long descending boulder ramp (with aven above) leads into a walking size passage to reach the first of three concrete dams after 28m. The second and third are 15m further on. Immediately over the last dam is Oxlow's Downstream Sump (also known as 50/50 Sump. The dams were constructed in the 1970's and were used successfully to bale the sump and briefly explore the passage beyond before they overflowed. The sump was passed again in 1992 by diving allowing a more thorough exploration (CDG Newsletter p31-32). The sump is 8m long but extremely tight with an awkward squeeze half way through and on no account should an attempt be made to free dive it. Upon surfacing, the passage soon enlarges to enter P.B. Chamber, 40m long and up to 5m wide with avens in the roof. The first aven above the sump was climbed to 6m, the second to 16m over very loose ground and the third, the main aven, to 26m, all leads were blind. The floor of the chamber descends towards the far end where the stream sinks amongst the boulders and mud. Water level can be reached but the choke continues underwater with no passable way on. The water has been traced to Main Rising in Speedwell Cavern.

Whilst with the second club, we had a steel rope ladder break on one side, which could have been serious, although we did use safety ropes on all ladders. Those days of caving were prior to the full use of ropes rather than ladders. Some time earlier, I had suggested using some lighter ladders with a better method of joining them (being made in 10m lengths), which the first club (including myself) had manufactured, and many of these ladders had been sold to other clubs. The idea was rejected by the wise ones of the club, that is, those with a rather rigid and unimaginative outlook. Their reasoning - that since the ladders were often abused by the less experienced members, they should be sturdy, even if they weighed perhaps as much as 30% more than the lighter ladders - which adds up when dozens are often carried underground - and the method of joining them (spliced and karabiners) was technically worse than the lighter ones with swaged ends and C-links. I eventually lost my motivation to go caving, but I must have been appreciated to some extent since both clubs did try to persuade me back.

When I first went caving, I bought a dry-suit designed for caving, I believe, by a member of the BSA, Ken Pearce, and made by the UK company Frankensteins. The suits mainly kept the water out until abrasions, especially at the knees, allowed water through, which was a bit of a disaster for one chap when I lent it to him and forgot this fact. I had moved on to wetsuits made from neoprene by then. It happened in part of a cave called Dowber Gill passage, and which was quite strenuous, so it can’t have been pleasant. When new, one could even dive through sumps in a dry-suit with hardly any water getting in. The dry-suits often were too hot for many cave systems, as were wetsuits, but at least the latter could be opened a little to cool down. We all usually made and repaired our wetsuits, which was quite easy, and they were relatively cheap to make. Wetsuits also had the advantage of providing a little more padding over the entire body, and allowed for easy reinforcements at knees and elbows. Wetsuits could also be used for dinghy sailing, which I did around this time as well.

As I've probably mentioned before, my first experiences of caving were with the Scouts when we went to the Mendips on two occasions. I subsequently had quite an active caving life, often going each weekend with the first club, and much the same with the second club. Initially my caving was centred around Derbyshire, and later in Yorkshire, so that I got to explore and know the many cave systems in these two areas. Mostly with the second club, I also was able to cave in South Wales and the West Coast of Ireland, which also had many very interesting cave systems, one being Pollnagollum, where Tolkien may have got the name Gollum from, although also likely is the Golem coming from Jewish folklore. When caving in Ireland, on four occasions, we would rent a cottage for a week, and this was very much enjoyed, particularly as a local pub just metres away hosted some very talented Irish musicians in the evenings, including the renowned Russell brothers, and all of us enjoyed their music immensely. There were soloists performing on the tin whistle, the fiddle, and the Irish pipes, but it was especially pleasing to hear them all performing as a group. Some of these musicians had produced records, which we found in local record shops and elsewhere. Besides the usual locals, there were many other musicians or amateur players who usually joined in too. Since none of us were musical at all, and therefore couldn’t join in, it might have seemed as if we were interlopers, but who could resist such an opportunity to listen to such very fine musicians - we were in the area for the caving, and it was the nearest pub. We also got to talk to many of them, over a few pints, and to appreciate their humour. Micho Russell had the opportunity to make a fool of me once when he knew we were there for the caving. He asked, if he tapped on the ground and it felt hollow, would that indicate a cave below, and being the gullible fool that I was, also somewhat inebriated, I said yes that might be the case, not realising he meant the bridge just metres up the road. Duh! He was a very fine tin whistle player - he died in 1994.

Several of us were returning back to the UK from one particular caving holiday in Ireland in a minibus. One observant individual spotted something passing through one town such that he had us stop the vehicle and reverse quickly. In this particular town, we all saw that the local cinema had a large sign advertising the current film on show - it read THE VOILENT CITY - very apt for the Irish accent no doubt, and since some of us are easily amused, just too funny for most of us. Perhaps it was just a spelling error, but I’d like to think it was done deliberately - the Irish are no fools and many have a great sense of humour. It might have been on this caving trip that we had an incident on the motorway. A car in front of our Minivan had an armchair tied to the roof, and this came adrift. It bounced onto the road, and our driver did his best by moving to another lane, but the chair seemed to follow, so he moved back. Wicked chair! It did the same, and unfortunately we hit it, smashing it to pieces. We did our best to clear up the mess on the road but declined offering to repair the chair.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Smokin!

Like most adolescents probably, I tried smoking - there is a photograph of a group of us at school all posing suitably in a cloakroom (aka the smoking lounge), but when I came across an article in a magazine in the early 1960s, in New Scientist I believe, concerning the connection between smoking and lung cancer, I took this onboard, and decided never to take up smoking, unlike most of my friends. The link had definitely been made in the early 1950s by the research of the physiologist, and later, Sir Richard Doll. I did point out the dangers to my friends but they mostly just ignored me. The father of one of my friends subsequently died from lung cancer - he was a smoker - and this friend also died rather young at the age of 65 from throat cancer. He used to smoke early on, and I’m not sure if he ever gave it up completely. New Scientist used to cost a shilling and sixpence then. Smoking has to be one of the most stupid addictions ever, but great for the tobacco companies, and for the governments who make an awful lot of tax from the sales. E-cigarettes might wean many off smoking but they are equally likely to be used for consuming illegal drugs (which apparently is happening), and they haven’t been cleared as being entirely safe as yet.

I was probably lucky to have never gotten into any illegal drug-taking. None of my friends, as far as I can tell, ever did so either, apart from one who told me about his short experiences with LSD at university. The fact that I went to many clubs on my own to listen to the music, where drugs were almost certainly consumed, probably meant that I did passively consume quite a bit of marijauna, but my shyness perhaps shielded me from meeting others to get involved, and my suspicion concerning the dangers of smoking probably sealed the issue. Later, I would have a moral position such that I never sought out illegal drugs, having the view that it is best not to get enslaved to something that might be difficult to control, much the same as my views on tobacco, apart from this being a complete waste of money too. I also saw many of the illegal drugs as just escapism, a cop-out from experiencing life, and possibly having the effect of making things worse rather than better. Marijuana seemed to be in this category, and although it is supposed to be less harmful than most other drugs, it has been linked to some problems, even with lowering intelligence to some degree. Many drugs have possibly harmful affects on the brain, especially when they have no proper controls as to their content, so risks are taken by all those who take such drugs. This is one argument for legalising them, but I doubt it would eliminate the cheaper unregulated drugs still being consumed - perhaps being indistinguishable from the legal items.

This fact, often not knowing what is in any particular drug, probably made the taking of them more dangerous than any of the outdoor activities I did in my life, and where any issues were recognised and dealt with. Of course I can recognise the freedom of expression argument, but like the widespread availability of firearms in the USA, I think the threat that they pose to others should also be taken into consideration. Once some drugs are legalised it might be difficult to avoid a mess of various other drugs, many not controlled, also becoming much more available. We might think we have problems currently, but they may just get a lot worse with legalisation. Do we really think that drugs deaths would decrease if there was a greater supply available - that the problem of overdosing would vanish? It might seem a bit like moralising, but I sometimes think that those who use drugs are more inclined to purchasing pleasure rather than creating it, especially if any work is involved in this. It hardly helps having so many celebrities confessing to having used drugs or admitting to their cocaine or other hard drug habits - do what I say rather than do what I do etc. I think that even if some drugs were legalised, not something that appeals to me, the supply of cheaper non-tax-paying alternatives would still be around, and possibly still causing many of the problems we see today.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Death becomes one

Compared with many others, I seem to have been quite fortunate in not having any companions either being seriously injured or dying, as in my caving friend's case. The only other person who died, that I know of, had been on just one of our Alps trips, and he apparently died in his mid thirties from an unknown cause. He had a rather annoying habit of interrupting just as someone else was about to speak. Normal conversation, with a bit of give and take, relies on cues so that once someone has almost finished speaking, then another generally knows when it is their opening for a reply. And likewise, most people will let others interrupt them as necessary to make a point or question something. This guy seemed to recognise when someone was about to reply (or simply failed to recognise the cues), and then he just carried on himself. This happened so frequently as to become really annoying. He was the only person I have ever witnessed exhibiting this behaviour. Later, after his untimely death, I felt that perhaps he might have had a brain tumour or other problem that might have produced this.

This person might have been extremely annoying, but there are so many others one tends to come across in life, especially on TV, whereby one gets the impression that the world must revolve around them for them to feel that they actually exist. Johnny Vegas especially comes to mind, as does Chris Evans, and no doubt innumerable others, but they usually don’t last in my consciousness for very long, since I just hate these time-consuming egotists. Some of them seem to insist on interjecting their puerile nonsense into any and every opportunity they get, much to my, and perhaps many other’s annoyance. Apart from this one chap constantly interrupting, I have actually come across very few in my circle of friends who displayed any obvious signs of mental health or likely having any personality issues. There have been those prone to exaggerating or trying to top anything one might say oneself, and one at least has been prone to name-dropping at every opportunity. The one that did stand out was the friend of a friend, whose wife had the rather nasty habit of belittling him in public almost constantly. I don’t know how he put up with it, and as far as I can tell, hardly deserved it, being just as normal as the rest of us were at the time.

 

[Mock Turtle]

A teeny weeny bit about politics - since mostly I'm not that interested

As for many others probably, I hated Thatcher even as the first few stilted words emerged from her mouth. She did more to undermine society than any other prime minister in my view, with even many females despising her for her disregard of feminist issues. I was unfortunately abroad when she was kicked out of office so I couldn’t express my profound delight along with many of my friends, but it was one of the greatest pleasures to read about. I detested her and her policies. “Rejoice! Rejoice!”, we certainly did when she left in tears. When she died, the comment I made on a computer support forum - not actually realising it would be so common - ‘Ding Dong! The witch is dead.’, got me banned, but that was their loss, and they seemed to ban almost everyone who over-stepped the mark with no warnings given - a stupid policy that hardly encouraged anyone to join such a forum - or stay for very long. They even had the gall to wonder why the active membership was so low. The fact was that I and most of the others banned did much to help forum members, and I didn’t need to be there, as I suspect was the case for the others banned. One person banned had made more than 10,000 posts. On another forum, a UK one, the members were allowed to vent their pleasure at her death in a jokes thread, and virtually all were happy that the old **** had died at last. I happened to have a bottle of champagne available when she died, and planned to drink it in celebration, but I couldn’t just waste it on her I decided. I wished I had had it when she was kicked out of office, since I would have drunk it then. I was also abroad when the Berlin Wall came down, another significant event, and not actually expected, by myself at least. Nearly all of my friends at work would probably have been left-oriented, which might be just a reflection of being young and idealistic, but many like myself would still maintain such a position throughout their life.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Life, but not as we know it

My views on the possibilities of life existing elsewhere in the universe, and the likelihood of meeting extra-terrestrials or seeing UFOs are mainly evidence based. I do think that life will almost certainly exist elsewhere (NASA estimates life elsewhere will be found within 25 years), since there have been so many other planets discovered in a fraction of the systems that abound, and which we have actually inspected. All this has come about within the last few decades to present a rather different picture of galaxies and star systems than we ever had before. But, having looked at 100,000 galaxies (as of 2015), no obvious signs of advanced civilisations have been detected so far, although our methods of detecting this might not be accurate enough or we might not even be looking for the appropriate signals. Planets do seem very common - evidence derived from the Kepler space telescope indicates that as many as 1 to 30 billion Earth-sized planets may exist in our galaxy, the Milky Way, and it has been estimated that there are hundreds of billions of galaxies in the known universe. Is it possible that the Earth is really that unique? It is quite likely that life might have evolved elsewhere in a similar manner as on Earth, particularly given the theory that matter passes readily from one celestial body to another quite often.

We know for example that material from Mars exists on Earth. It was a long time ago that it was theorised that life on Earth did spring from material, such as interstellar dust, coming from outside, and if we do find any life on alien objects, such as comets or other planets, then it will be hard to resist the theory that actually life is widespread, even if it might not evolve or have evolved to the level on Earth. I read about panspermia from some of the articles written by Fred Hoyle many years ago, and it is quite a plausible theory. It has been postulated that all of Earth’s water came from asteroids or comets (as ice), life might have come with this water, and there is evidence of water on many other planets. I am sure the religious will just point out - well it’s only so far distant from Earth (whatever distance) so perhaps it came from Earth - for almost any findings. There are even theories as to how life might have been initiated through entirely natural processes without such life coming from elsewhere. An apparent Earth-like planet found in 2015 (Kepler 452-b), which perhaps could have conditions much like Earth, and hence be capable of supporting life, is 1400 light years away, so far enough away not to be troubled by our voracious advertising output - for some time at least - and we have exactly zero chance of actually getting there, unless the laws of the universe are suddenly overcome.

Since I wrote this, there have been many more planets discovered which might support life, one being a little more than four light years away, so actually not too distant that travel to this planet in the far future could not be envisioned:

Discovery of potentially Earth-like planet Proxima b raises hopes for life

The distances are enormous but we still have not conquered science so as to think we know it all just yet, and no doubt there are still surprises in store for future generations. And this system, about forty light years away, has several planets that might support life:

Nearby system has 7 Earth-sized planets, several in the habitable zone

If we do come across intelligent aliens - or more likely, they come across us - we might be in for a few surprises. This article, from March 2017:

Nick Pope, former MOD UFO expert: 'There's no plan if aliens invade' | Metro News

While this may be alarming to some, Pope did go one to say that an alien visit wouldn’t really look like the ‘War of the Worlds’ type of thing we’d expect. Instead, he believed it would more closely resemble Arrival – which comes out on DVD on March 20 – in which each country puts together a team of scientists, cultural academics and military experts in order to try and communicate with the new species. Especially since, given that they’ve managed to successfully visit Earth, they would undoubtedly already be several thousands years ahead of us technologically. But this, in turn, could lead to some international conflicts, at least in the short-term. Pope said: ‘There would be a scramble for the alien technology, and weapons. Some of the big countries – and also, nowadays, corporations – would be scrambling to get their hands on alien technology. The country that gets that [technology] would be the world leader for the foreseeable future.’

As for intelligent, star or galaxy-hopping aliens, I very much doubt we will see any unless such advances in science and technology are made as to make space travel viable, via wormholes perhaps. The distances are huge, as is the time frame involved, which might be the reason why we will not have encountered any aliens before, or ever will, despite all the apparent UFO sightings. Surely there can’t be any aliens living within our solar system, since, being more advanced, they would presumably be here on Earth, the most habitable planet, unless they are so alien as to not require what we humans require to live. The current trend appears to be sightings photographed from vehicles in space, but with the amount of space debris we have stupidly put there, almost any of this could be cited as being of alien origin. From Wikipedia - As of 2009 about 19,000 pieces of debris larger than 5 cm are tracked, while an estimated 300,000 pieces larger than 1 cm exist below 2,000 kilometres. The size of objects photographed is often impossible to determine, so this might account for so many apparent sightings. As of 2015, there are about 1300 satellites in space along with all this debris. It seems that there are now apps to insert UFO images into photos, thus making it much easier for those who lack even the most rudimentary skills. Sightings should rocket! "Android applications like UFO Photo Prank, UFO Camera, UFO Photo Bomb, and Camera360 have gained notoriety recently, as examples of hoaxed UFO photos have been published by mainstream media outlets around the world." Congratulations to the Daily Express for being the number one UK newspaper in advancing the cult of UFO sightings! One recent UFO sighting (2014), from an aircraft seemed more like an insect in the camera system. I had one in my SLR camera once.

Let’s face it, the window with which we can observe life existing elsewhere has only been open for a century or so, which is tiny in comparison with the age of the universe - approximately 13,800,000,000 years. Radio emissions from the Earth will have existed for less than two centuries (with as many as 15,000 star systems able to detect these if they hosted intelligent life), although life (which might be detected) has existed on the Earth for several hundred million years or even billions of years. This of course doesn’t discount the fact that aliens might just be much more advanced than ourselves, and hence be able to travel such enormous distances. Our knowledge of science could still be quite primitive compared with a truly advanced civilisation, and given the enormous amounts of energy that exist in the universe, they might have managed to utilise this to their advantage. Many religions will possibly have some explaining to do if such intelligent life does exist, which no doubt they will do quite comfortably. As for those who claim alien abduction - I just wish the aliens would keep them all, which would then prevent us from hearing about this nonsense any more. I find it hard to believe the figure of 2.5% of Americans claiming this.

In one of the Irish cave systems, a friend found a rather unusual black stone in a stream passage, which I managed to beg from him. It would just fit in the palm of a hand, was almost perfectly round, and looked a bit like common depictions of a flying saucer. It was probably formed by being trapped in a rock pocket of swirling water such that it eventually became so symmetrical from the constant erosion. Another similar sized stone was found close by, but nowhere near as symmetrical. Since access to the cave was quite easy, it might have been used by our ancient ancestors, and one can imagine how such a unique shape might have puzzled someone from earlier times. Round objects do appear in nature frequently, pebbles on the beach for example, but this was much nearer the shape of a wheel - and one might see where this could lead. It would only require an indentation on each side, and supported by these, it would be a wheel. I’ve often wondered how the first of such discoveries occurred - the wheel and its possibilities; the revelation that the sun was one object rather than a succession of objects rising and sinking each day; the correlation between sex and birth, etc. We will probably never know the answers to many of these questions.

 

[Mock Turtle]

More caving ..

P.B. Smith was quite a character, and some of the flavour of his personality can be seen in the following three extracts from a description of an expedition to one of the deepest and longest caves known at the time (1967), the Gouffre Berger in France, by Bari M (Mick) Logan:

Pegasus Caving Club | Pegasus Club Nottingham | Home Page

In early 1967, at the age of nineteen, I paid my £40 dues and joined the Nottingham based Pegasus Caving Club’s ‘Gouffre Berger’ Expedition scheduled for August, as a member of the small surface support team. I took with me the latest compact Mamiya 35mm camera and 6 rolls of 36 exposure Kodachrome colour film, hence the subsequent collection of rather unusual surface pictures taken over a three week period of the event. At this early stage of my story, I think that I should mention, that originally there was going to be two separate expeditions running simultaneously within the ‘Berger’ over the August 67 period. Basically, one ‘exploratory’ – The Pegasus Club Expedition and the other ‘diving final sump’ – The Ken Pearce Expedition, with an agreed shared input from both in the provision of ladders and ropes; and the duties to initially tackle and afterwards de-tackle the cave. Sadly however, circumstances changed rather dramatically for the Pearce team within a few days of them tackling and entering the cave which prompted a sudden withdrawal and almost abandonment of their expedition. Fortunately however, after much discussion between both expedition leaders a mutual agreement was reached which resulted in a partial amalgamation whilst maintaining both expeditions original aims. This episode is more fully referred to in the official Pegasus-Berger Report. My allotted duty was essentially working with P. (Pete) B. Smith with day-to-day campsite detail and supplies to cave; Dr Harold Lord with communications to cave and surface surveying; and emergency support. We were already well acquainted being members of the B.S.A. (British Speleological Association) North Midlands Group, T.P.U. (Technical Projects Unit); the latter being formed in 1965 to provide specialist services for cave exploration and more importantly at times of emergency being affiliated to the D.C.R.O. (Derbyshire Cave Rescue Organisation). Harold Lord professionally worked for the Mines Research Unit based near Buxton in Derbyshire and had designed a new underground communication system, the ‘Inductorphone’, of which he wanted to test the full potential in the exceptional cave depths that the ‘Berger’ had to offer especially as it could also be applied to electronic surface surveying. The systems small metal-box hand held phone units were manufactured in the workshop of his house in Buxton and being a 4th year apprentice telecommunications engineer at the time, I assisted with the wiring and soldering of some of the units, testing and packing the ancillary equipment with P.B. for transportation in Harold’s vehicle to France.

As P.B. and I both lived in Nottingham, we decided to travel the 800 miles to Grenoble, France together in his newly acquired Hillman Imp Van which had the rather unusual novel design of a rear engine. The large single-windowed backdoor hinged upwards, a feature that was later to probably save my life, to expose a rear high platform cabin storage area; further bulk storage was to be had under the front bonnet which lacked an engine and this P.B. utilised to the full during our late Thursday evening packing session. He meticulously crammed it full to capacity, with amongst more normal caving kit, two tadpole fully charged diving cylinders and associated equipment, one gallon of paraffin for cooking stoves, a Tilley lamp, box of emergency illuminating red flares, box of calcium carbide tins for acetylene head-lamps, two gallon petrol can, boxes of matches and a couple of ex-army ammunition tins containing explosive material for which P.B. had an official licence. Here, I must point out, that P.B. dealt with the French Custom officials, using his best Franglais and with much arm waving and pointing; they did search the van quite thoroughly and after the production of various documents, much to my amazement, we were allowed on our way with no items in our possession withheld or confiscated. The two-day drive down to Grenoble, at high speed, proved fairly uneventful except that is for the very last four miles ascending up thousands of feet on the steep tortuous narrow gravel road from the village of Sassenage. It tightly hugged the mountainside and had no safety barriers on its outer edge to protect vehicles from the very steep to sheer drops through forest and into the valley far below. A drive, certainly not for the faint-hearted, and one, which proved something of our nemesis some weeks later.

But first and foremost, Tuesday 22nd August hailed the Expedition evening ‘Dinner Bash’ at the Maison Forestiere. P.B. and I looked forward to attending this very much, setting off early to his van on the Mouliere with two hefty loads of general re-packs leaving only the tent and two light Bergen loads for our final evacuation from camp a planned few days later. The dinner was good, so was the wine, beer, music and the usual ribald behaviour and banter that one expected and had to go along with on such high spirited cavers get-together occasions. I have no idea what time it was, but very late when P.B. hailed me across the room wanting to return to camp. It was a warm clear night with bright stars and an almost full, if not full, moon. On reaching the car park, we were approached by Henry Mares and Celia, one of the Pegasus expedition member’s girlfriend, both requesting a lift to which P.B. agreed and Henry and Celia occupied the front passenger seat, P.B. drove and I laid in the back of the van wedged between equipment with my head facing the backdoor. Somewhere on the narrow gravel road going up, P.B. who wasn’t speeding, totally miss-judged a very sharp right hand bend and just went straight on over the edge and down a 60 degree slope into the forest below. The van somersaulted on its course downhill at a rapid rate. The back door flew open and I was catapulted out into space on the way colliding the top of my head with one of the door hinges which cleaved my scalp wide-open. I came to earth on the slope momentarily dazed by the blow to my head but eventually gained the confidence to try and stand up when I realised that the only injury I appeared to have was that to the top of my head which was now profusely pouring blood down my face. On looking below, I could just make out the van with its headlights full on, inverted, wedged between two large pines trees and pointing uphill. P.B. and Henry were shouting for help and I briefly replied an affirmative as I slowly made my way up the very steep slope to the road where on arrival I almost immediately managed to stop a couple of vehicles full of party revellers on their way up. My blood soaked appearance, like some monster from the house of horrors, soon had a sobering effect on the occupants who, fortunately for all the crash victims, were all highly experienced cavers and the majority, members of cave rescue organisations. So on realising the gravity of the emergency situation that confronted them, they quickly swung into action. I was placed in the front vehicle and quickly driven up to the Mouliere were Dr. Hugh Kidd the expedition medical officer and his wife Mary, also a practising doctor, had set-up a couple of tents alongside their VW campervan. Mary treated me, whilst Hugh set-off with rescue equipment down to the crash site, eventually returning with Henry who had no-more than a couple of badly bruised kneecaps. P.B. had a dislocated left shoulder and Celia was in a stretcher. She had been fitted with a neck brace because she had a suspected neck injury. P.B. and Celia were accommodated in the Kidd tents overnight and a close watch was kept on Celia. Henry and I were despatched back to the main campsite under our own steam. A two mile very ‘wobbly’ journey I seem to recall, with strict instructions to be back at first light for a journey down to Grenoble hospital for a full health check-up. Next morning, I arrived early, as arranged but without Henry who felt that there was no necessity for him to go to the hospital. P.B. had his arm in a sling and Celia was still strapped in the stretcher and neck brace and in much pain. Hugh drove us all down to Grenoble hospital in the VW campervan, accompanied by Mary, where we remained for much of the day whilst x-rays were taken, tests conducted, and I had my scalp painfully stitched by a female medical orderly who I think last performed such a duty at the Battle of Waterloo by the look of the instruments and suture material that she was using. P.B. and I were discharged after paying all our required hospital bills in cash, but news of Celia was not at all good as she had several fractured neck vertebra which required a long stay in hospital and the fitting of a full neck to abdomen plaster jacket. So, Celia remained in hospital and the rest made the journey back to the Mouliere making a brief stop on the way at the Maison Forestiere in order to make a few necessary urgent telephone calls back to the UK. At this point, I managed to contact my health insurers who acknowledged my claim but only on the proviso that I returned to the UK within the next few days for a full independent medical assessment. On reaching the Mouliere, we discovered, P.B’s van in the corner of the car parking area. Somehow it had been recovered by the rest of the team earlier in the day. It was rather misshapen but the windows were intact and remarkably showed no other signs of damage. The engine ran so it was serviceable. Next day P.B. decided that he was going to move down to Grenoble and find a campsite there and stay to look after Celia best he could during her prolonged stay in hospital. Being somewhat incapable of carrying heavy loads, I packed his tent and belongings and took them up to his van, gave him all the money that I could spare and with a handshake he set off on his own. That was the last I saw of him until several months later when he finally made it back to the UK.

Footnote: Celia spent a full six weeks in Grenoble hospital and then somehow was transferred to the Manchester Royal Infirmary UK where they discovered that the cast she was in for six weeks had been incorrectly fitted. So she had to have a new one fitted and endure yet another six weeks recovery. In the end, I’m pleased to say it proved to be a successful course of treatment. P.B. and I did visit Celia on one occasion, at her home in Buxton and she did seem to have recovered. On reflection, the four occupants of that vehicle that night, were extremely lucky and had it not been for the brilliant prompt rescue action and medical intervention taken by our fellow expedition team members, the outcome could have been much worse if not fatal.

It seems that P.B. and the others had a very narrow escape with the accident mentioned. I think my friend who died was also on this expedition - from a few of the photographs in the account - and it appears I joined their club shortly after such that I perhaps just missed out on going on this expedition. I no doubt would have enjoyed taking part in such an endeavour - apart from the possibility of being in a serious accident! One can only assume that drink played a part in this particular accident.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Some more early life stuff

I can’t remember having that many close relationships at primary school, but I think I got on reasonably well with most, even if I only had a few friends that I saw out of school. Conversing many years later with one of the girls in my class, I was told that I was quite a nice boy apparently - that’s nice to know since that is how I have always felt, even though I can’t say I have always acted so. I think my sense of fairness and general good nature did not push me naturally to form attachments to many of the other boys, many of whom I just found nasty or uninteresting. Not being particularly interested in both football or cricket probably didn’t help either, so I was, like many, not the first choice when teams were chosen. But how stupid was that - letting someone choose the members of their team - guaranteed to produce outsiders and possible bullying. One of the few confrontations I can remember, me possibly being too sarcastic, was when a boy in my class attempted to clobber me. Unfortunately he was lame, so he didn’t stand much of a chance in catching me. He was much bigger than me, so there was a bit of a dilemma here - accept a bashing or use my advantage. Guess what I did. Perhaps being highly intelligent, which I found out later, this did tend to keep me apart from many of the other kids - as it often does. It certainly didn’t make me want to manipulate or exploit others, just understand them more perhaps. Answering most of the questions in class invariably makes one less popular, so it usually doesn’t take long for such a person to realise this and to stop doing so. As was typical of the times, even today perhaps, most of the girls tended to keep to themselves, and much the same went for the boys. Since I was not the leader type, I didn’t do much volunteering when there were such opportunities, but this sometimes produced friction since I would often not agree with the way that things were done. Such is the lot of anyone with more than average intelligence but who is also mostly shy or avoidant.

On our summer holidays, I usually made friends with others at the caravan site, rarely doing much with my brothers since they often would be doing other things. One pair of children in a neighbouring caravan were about my age, then ten, a boy named John and his sister Susan, and I think their father was a member of the Magic Circle. She was very pretty with shortish blonde hair, and the three of us often played together. I would have liked to do more with Susan - such as kissing her - but I was of course too shy. There were always bicycles for hire at the caravan park, and I can remember going for a cycle ride with another girl from there, named Iris, not that this led anywhere either. We had an old ex-RAF one-man rubber dinghy to play with at the beach, which was always popular with other kids since car inner tubes seemed more common. The MOD had a military firing range nearby (at Foulness Island), and it was possible to cycle through the area when no firing was going on, which was quite exciting, and allowed one to find various sorts of used ammunition such as alloy shell cases.

Whilst on holiday at the coast, we would often go on Southend pier, which had a little electric railway on it that was over 2 km long, and had many trips to the Kursaal, a large amusement park. We also went on many boat trips, one being the paddle steamer, the PS Medway Queen, which was one of the ships that evacuated troops at Dunkirk. Built in 1924, I think it was the only paddle steamer we went on, and it has now been rebuilt apparently. We also went on either the MV Royal Sovereign or the MV Royal Daffodil once, which went across to France, but we didn’t actually land - the latter ship was also at Dunkirk. This trip was rather rough, with deck chairs flying along the deck to catch the unwary if they ventured out of the saloon. All of us loved going on these boat trips. The father of a school friend of mine died on a cross-channel ferry - they thought he was just being sick when in fact he had had a heart attack. Walking along the front at Southend, one was hardly likely to miss the Laughing Policeman, long gone no doubt. Trips out to the sea forts, World War II anti-aircraft defences (shown below), were also a highlight of any seaside holiday to this area at the time. At Shoeburyness one year, near Uncle Tom’s Cabin, my father discovered he had lost his wallet. Dead whales on the beach were it seems quite common even then, as we saw one on the beach between Shoeburyness and Southend one year. The trip across to France was perhaps the nearest my parents got to abroad, until my mum eventually went to Australia later in life to visit my brother’s family. As far as I can recall, my father never ever went abroad. Also, neither of them had owned or even driven a car.

I had my moments of looking foolish. One time, we were camping in the Mendips whilst on a caving holiday, and being rather windy, I placed my Primus stove in a cardboard box. That’ll do, I thought. But unfortunately some of the methylated spirit used to start the stove spilt, and the cardboard box caught fire. I managed to get the stove out of the box, and then set about stamping out the flames with my foot. However, that was easier said than done, the box was not that big, and soon all my mates were in hysterics at the sight of me hopping about with a blazing cardboard box on my other foot. “What’s so funny”, I protested, which caused more howls of laughter. Eventually I got rid of the box, but it took a long while to get over the humiliation. Did I get any help? If it had been someone else would I have helped? No - I would have laughed along with the rest. We had friends from a caving club in Bristol, so they often kindly arranged tourist trips for us in both the Mendips and South Wales, which they knew well and which we all enjoyed, and we often accompanied them on trips to Ireland too where their knowledge was again appreciated.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Kids today! Tut!

When some comment that children today are under so much pressure, and that life as a child today is so much worse than ever before (it might be in many ways), they might consider the following about much earlier decades:

• Many children had few possessions, in the way of toys in the past, because there was so much austerity during and after the last world war, and much the same went for the parents. The numerous fluffy toys and other such items commonly seen today would probably have been just one treasured item years ago.
• Children’s clothing was often hand-me-downs or made by mother, and few had more than a few items of any particular garment including shoes. They were often used until worn-out as well, or repaired.
• Children were seldom included in any decision-making and were mostly ignored.
• Their education was rather strict, and the expectation was you just obeyed the teacher, no answering back - no pastoral care then, and you could be physically punished by caning or other methods.
• The only sources for information was generally the library, or bought books if one could afford them, and of course I spent much time in the local library and in borrowing books because, in general, the only books I had came as presents from others.
• Sexual education and attitudes at the time were typically of the mushroom variety, that is, keep them in the dark, rather than discussing such issues, especially anything related to sexual abuse - but still is for many these days.
• The various authorities - the police, the church, government, etc., were rarely challenged, such that they had far more power over people in general, and therefore managed to get away with much abuse.
• Education consisted of rote-learning, memorising nearly all of the information, with no aids other than perhaps some logarithm tables, and assessed coursework didn’t even exist. Also, but perhaps it was just my experience, there were no direct rewards for achievement.
• Physical education was mostly segregated, even in mixed schools, and consisted of the usual team games, with perhaps gymnastics and swimming being a bonus, but at least we had some exercise and sports fields on which to play. Being at a mixed primary school usually meant that the boys and girls changed for PE in the same classroom, with the girls often just removing their skirts and doing any activities in their knickers.
• The array of protections for children and in other spheres of life didn’t exist to the same extent as they do today, such that compensation for accidents was often not sought.
• For amusement, there was no television, internet, computers, gameboys, portable music players or even portable radios until later (no music for the young even, such as Rock and Roll, until the late 1950s), mobile phones, skateboards, etc., just the radio, comics, board games, 7 inch records (later), and the Saturday matinee, apart from the many bomb-sites, which might be seen as a bonus.
• Girls didn’t wear make-up in school - probably no pressure to use this then, and so perhaps no specific school rules - but hooped skirts seemed to be allowed for the older girls. But perhaps not in more strict schools, after all this was a Secondary Modern, where the lower orders were granted an education.

Yeah, those were the days my friend.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Music to our ears?

Not sure if the following article, from July 2015, answers the question as to why we like particular music but it might make sense to many. I seem to come out as mostly an empathizer, never really liking Punk or Heavy Metal - if Led Zeppelin and Van Der Graaf Generator can be safely ignored, and I like both Bach and Stravinsky but I’m not that keen on Coldplay or Slayer:

Do you like your jazz to be Norah Jones or Ornette Coleman, your classical music to be Bach or Stravinsky, or your rock to be Coldplay or Slayer? The answer could give an insight into the way you think, say researchers from the University of Cambridge. In a study published today in the journal PLOS ONE, a team of psychologists show that your thinking style - whether you are an 'empathizer' who likes to focus on and respond to the emotions of others, or a 'systemizer' who likes to analyse rules and patterns in the world—is a predictor of the type of music you like. Music is a prominent feature of everyday life and nearly everywhere we go. It's easy for us to know what types of music we like and don't like. When shuffling songs on an iPod, it takes us only a few seconds to decide whether to listen or skip to the next track. However, little is known about what determines our taste in music. Researchers over the past decade have argued that musical preferences reflect explicit characteristics such as age and personality. For example, people who are open to new experiences tend to prefer music from the blues, jazz, classical, and folk genres, and people who are extraverted and 'agreeable' tend to prefer music from the pop, soundtrack, religious, soul, funk, electronic, and dance genres. Now a team of scientists, led by PhD student David Greenberg, has looked at how our 'cognitive style' influences our musical choices. This is measured by looking at whether an individual scores highly on 'empathy' (our ability to recognize and react to the thoughts and feelings of others) or on 'systemizing' (our interest in understanding the rules underpinning systems such as the weather, music, or car engines) - or whether we have a balance of both. "Although people's music choices fluctuates over time, we've discovered a person's empathy levels and thinking style predicts what kind of music they like," said David Greenberg from the Department of Psychology. "In fact, their cognitive style - whether they're strong on empathy or strong on systems - can be a better predictor of what music they like than their personality." The researchers conducted multiple studies with over 4,000 participants, who were recruited mainly through the myPersonality Facebook app. The app asked Facebook users to take a selection of psychology-based questionnaires, the results of which they could place on their profiles for other users to see. At a later date, they were asked to listen to and rate 50 musical pieces. The researchers used library examples of musical stimuli from 26 genres and subgenres, to minimise the chances that participants would have any personal or cultural association with the piece of music.

People who scored high on empathy tended to prefer mellow music (from R&B, soft rock, and adult contemporary genres), unpretentious music (from country, folk, and singer/songwriter genres) and contemporary music (from electronica, Latin, acid jazz, and Euro pop). They disliked intense music, such as punk and heavy metal. In contrast, people who scored high on systemizing favoured intense music, but disliked mellow and unpretentious musical styles. The results proved consistent even within specified genres: empathizers preferred mellow, unpretentious jazz, while systemizers preferred intense, sophisticated (complex and avant-garde) jazz. The researchers then looked more in-depth and found those who scored high on empathy preferred music that had low energy (gentle, reflective, sensual, and warm elements), or negative emotions (sad and depressing characteristics), or emotional depth (poetic, relaxing, and thoughtful features). Those who scored high on systemizing preferred music that had high energy (strong, tense, and thrilling elements), or positive emotions (animated and fun features), and which also featured a high degree of cerebral depth and complexity. David Greenberg, a trained jazz saxophonist, says the research could have implications for the music industry. "A lot of money is put into algorithms to choose what music you may want to listen to, for example on Spotify and Apple Music. By knowing an individual's thinking style, such services might in future be able to fine tune their music recommendations to an individual." Dr Jason Rentfrow, the senior author on the study says: "This line of research highlights how music is a mirror of the self. Music is an expression of who we are emotionally, socially, and cognitively." Professor Simon Baron-Cohen, a member of the team, added; "This new study is a fascinating extension to the 'empathizing-systemizing' theory of psychological individual differences. It took a talented PhD student and musician to even think to pose this question. The research may help us understand those at the extremes, such as people with autism, who are strong systemizers."

‘For example, people who are open to new experiences tend to prefer music from the blues, jazz, classical, and folk genres, and people who are extraverted and 'agreeable' tend to prefer music from the pop, soundtrack, religious, soul, funk, electronic, and dance genres.’

Well, the former are far more appealing than the latter group, where I would sooner run a marathon or cut a limb off than having to listen to nearly all of these.

The first time I heard the works of Stravinsky, Petrushka and The Rite of Spring (before even seeing the amazing ballet), and the organ music of Bach, opened me up to much more Classical music, usually listened to on Radio 3. There was not much of any Classical music played at home, apart from some of the Classics, which my mother liked. After starting work, I bought many records, and listened to these or to the radio rather than watching TV. I bought a few records each week, usually Jazz or Classical, and began to haunt the larger bookshops such as Foyles and Dillons, both quite close to where I worked.



Probably like most, I can chart the course of my musical appreciation through a number of artists who had an almost immediate impact on me, these being: Buddy Holly, Benny Goodman, Django Reinhardt, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Stravinsky, J S Bach, the Yardbirds, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, the Chieftains, Billie Holiday, Pink Floyd, the Nice, Van de Graaf Generator, the Bonzo Dog band, King Crimson, Blowzabella, and Dead Can Dance, with many more no doubt in the sidelines. A good marker of how I was affected was if I rushed out and bought all their material, which happened with Bob Dylan (his first five albums), Joni Mitchell, the Chieftains, the Nice, Van de Graaf Generator, King Crimson, Blowzabella, and Dead Can Dance.

I might be wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion that if one explores the full variety of music available, all around the world too, then it might just be that one becomes less satisfied with the home-grown Pop output, as I did. But this might just be down to preferences, which do seem to change over time too. I have definitely been more inclined to music with more musical content than just singing, and tend to appreciate material that is more complex than the usual Pop material. Having to listen to other people’s musical loves can often be quite tiring, as when I had to endure Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of The Heart and Meatloaf’s Bat Out of Hell just too many times whilst driving down through France to our climbing destinations. My choice of the Art of Noise perhaps didn’t go down too well, but perhaps indicated my feelings.

Like many no doubt at the time, I often recorded my favourite music onto cassette tape, since this then caused less wear on the vinyl records, and I bought a fairly expensive Hi-Fi system, consisting of separates, in the early 1970s so that the sound quality was maintained. I also recorded quite a lot from the radio around this time, including numerous dramas and musical items. The Don Haworth drama, On a Day in Summer in a Garden, recorded in 1975, was one such enjoyable drama, as was August 2026, recorded in 1977, from Malcolm Clarke and the Radiophonic Workshop, and another from 1977 (I think) was A Touch of Daniel by Peter Tinniswood. Another item recorded, seemingly lost from nearly all archives, was Lover’s Sorrow, from 1979, a very entertaining mix of Chinese music and poetry, and later in life there was some satisfaction when I came by chance across some of this music abroad (even if boot-legged, lol) - the radio recording suffered from interference.

Since I took great care of my LPs, I was not too pleased after I let a friend of a friend play some of my records whilst I was away on holiday. He ruined nearly all of my early Bob Dylan albums along with a few others, but I suppose I was fortunate since his taste in music was rather narrow, and he perhaps never got around to playing (and ruining) many other items. Never again! The reel-to-reel tape recorder that I owned (actually requisitioned from my mother) occasionally came in handy for recording the essential Tamla Motown hits and similar material required for the parties organised by a friend.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Some photos - with some of a very low quality.

P B Smith and car prior to excursion downhill.

Surviving quite well considering what it went through.

My £1 Morris Minor in Spain.

On the Matterhorn Italian summit with friends having just arrived at the other end. Sun deciding not to cooperate (and no flash). I think with some suitable photoshopping I could retrieve this now - it's the only reasonable photo of my mate on the summit. Clumsy oaf that he is he dropped his camera from the summit of Piz Bernina once, and we watched as it bounced all the way down. We looked for it later, and found it, but it was a waste of time since it was a wreck.

Helicopter arriving to ferry chum away.

 

[Mock Turtle]

The perils of travel

Most of the dangers I encountered during my life were all appreciated and fairly organised, unlike the many dangers that travelling outside Europe often entails, such as: Russia (and other countries), where the roads are liable to be littered with drunk, drugged, aggressive, or just bad drivers; many poorer countries, where chaos reigns on the roads in many cities, with few obeying any traffic rules (cities like London and Paris are eminently sane in comparison); countries like South Africa or many in South/Central America where car-jacking or kidnapping are common; the many countries where earthquakes or the weather can wreak much damage; the many countries where racism or religious intolerance will apply; and the many countries where one is not safe if a female travelling alone. So, most of the activities that I have done have been relatively tame in comparison, and the risks assessed, unlike those that many tourists might face. It is often other people who are the danger rather than anything else, although the quality of the roads, and other dangers will be problems too. In the UK we are rather cosseted in many ways. Probably my only experience of adverse conditions abroad had been sheltering from a typhoon once, but this strength of wind was also felt later in the UK, in February 2014, when similar winds caused damage to my house.

Travelling abroad does have its dangers, as mentioned, since anyone from the UK would not expect to find an armed guard with a sawn-off shotgun outside the entrance to a bank who insists on inspecting all bags carried into the bank, but common in some countries. And they also might not expect to find an armed guard travelling with you on a bus, but again, common elsewhere where local conflicts are present. Few of us would also tolerate the snatching of our cash passed on to a bank clerk, but then we might not be subjected to robbery as frequently as they might be. Being aware of the intentions of others is even more important when one is abroad and where not understanding the language might pose a problem. This didn’t inhibit me from striking up conversations with those I met, even when alone, but I was always aware of those possibly trying to scam or con me. In Thailand, a young man named Larry struck up a conversation, and when he invited me back to his house after some time - his sister was going to the UK to study, he said - I agreed, although I had my doubts about his intentions. All was quite jolly, and he introduced me to his brother - no signs of his sister though. Eventually he played his hand - would I be interested in a game of cards, where we might fleece some other poor guy. I carried on with this, fascinated, but I knew that I was the one going to be fleeced. As we started playing - they had given me some money to start the game - I feigned illness and promptly left, returning the money and with Larry pleading for a little money anyway. I had guessed that he or any others would not be violent, and this was the case, but I might have been wrong so it could have been risky. In a hostel some time later, I heard a guy describing the very same person, Larry, and we compared notes. This was the nearest that anyone has come to scamming me, apart from the **** in the UK who bullied me into buying PPI for a new motorbike - I hope he enjoyed his percentage, and his short life. I think it quite likely that this incident was the closest I ever came to real danger, even though all the physical activities I did might have been more obvious choices.

 

[Mock Turtle]

An Alpine journey - from dream to reality

Having being bitten seriously by the climbing bug whilst sampling rock-climbing as a Scout at Harrison’s Rocks near Tunbridge Wells, I could never probably have envisioned that this would eventually progress to what many might consider a dream ambition - climbing the Matterhorn. For many, rock-climbing is enough, or perhaps hill-walking and/or mountaineering in the UK in addition, but one often has dreams of climbing those more attractive mountains with history attached. The Matterhorn, first climbed in 1865, has spades of this, and is possibly the most easily recognised mountain in the world. Not that hard, but a serious proposition, since falling at virtually any point does mean a long drop and almost certain death. Few mountains of the same standard probably boast this.

So how did I achieve this? Well, I didn’t take up rock-climbing immediately after leaving the Scouts, and it was only at my second place of work, where they had a climbing club, that I began to be interested again. I had done some caving before this - again initiated with the Scouts - and this usually does involve a fair bit of rock-climbing but being underground of course. With my mates at this work’s club, we visited as many local crags and more distant ones as we could manage, and often going to mountain areas such as The Lakes, Wales, and Scotland for more adventurous forays too. This eventually included winter excursions to these areas as well. I suppose my rock-climbing inevitably progressed, but not to any great level, since I never trained physically nor did any of my mates - we just enjoyed the climbing and if we improved by climbing harder grades then so much the better.

Over several years, we will have visited perhaps a dozen or so different crags around the local area, like Brownstones, Cadshaw, Wilton Quarry, Farleton Crag, Stanage Edge, Froggatt Edge, Crookrise, Warton Crag, Trowbarrow Quarry, Twistleton Scars, Ilkley Moor (Cow and Calf), etc., as well as many more of such venues in the Lake District. The hardest rock-climbs I did, being stretched and tested by a much better climber, were Aladdinsane (E1, but then HVS) and then Assagai (HVS), both at Trowbarrow Quarry, and subsequently Slab and Groove (VS) on Scafell Crag in the Lakes. Probably the climbs that led the way for progression into proper mountaineering were such things as Striding Edge and various longer climbs in The Lakes - Bowfell Buttress, Troutdale Pinnacle, etc. - and various climbs in Wales and Scotland - Crib Goch, Aonach Eagach Ridge, Tower Ridge, Carn Mor Dearg Arête, amongst others. But perhaps the best climbing route that simulated anything likely in the Alps was the Cuillin Ridge on Skye in Scotland. The sheer length and numerous individual problems along the route, although not that hard, did make for a very Alpine experience. I completed this (with four others and over two days) once and abandoned due to slow progress another time. Some snow and ice-climbing, where available, also helped to complete my mountaineering training - invariably in The Lakes, Wales, and Scotland.

Over the years I had several mountaineering holidays in the Alps - visiting France, Switzerland, Austria, and Italy: Tasch, Switzerland & Chamonix, France 1978; St. Moritz, Switzerland 1983; Tasch, Switzerland 1984 (including the Matterhorn); Mayrhofen, Austria 1985; Cortina d’Ampezzo, Italy & Solden, Austria 1986; Chamonix, France 1987 (soloing Mont Blanc); Wilderswil, Switzerland 1988.

Apart from the Matterhorn, perhaps the two other well-known major mountain climbs, amongst many others, that appeals to the imagination of many mountaineers are Everest and the North Face of the Eiger, but the expense of the former put that out of my range, as did the abilities required for the latter. My skills were nowhere up to that standard, although I read and enjoyed all the books about both these mountains, and the sad end that awaited many attempting such climbs, particularly the Eiger. Most face climbs are in a different league to most ridge climbs, especially with regards to dangers involved, and the Matterhorn ridge is within the range of even the most average rock-climber, although it is not a given. I did manage to have a ride on the Jungfrau railway inside the Eiger up to the Jungfraujoch once, when we climbed the nearby mountain, the Mönch, but the view from the windows at Eigerwand was non-existent due to low cloud. My friend and I were tempted to climb the Eiger by one of the easier routes once, a ridge climb, but we were too early in the season and the appropriate hut was still closed so that fell through. The prize -->

It should be noted that the normal route is the ridge facing one, and that about half-way or two-thirds of the way up there is a little shelter called the Solvay Hut, as shown below:

Oh yes - just remembered. The Solvay Hut has a radio permanently connected to the rescue services below and it has touch controls (then at least), such that I inadvertently got a response from them as I inspected it. I let them think a little bird had pecked at it.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Just Another Pear-Shaped Life

For many years I have considered this to be the best title for an autobiography I have been planning on publishing (mostly written, with extracts posted here), with it probably being the best description I could come up with to sum up all the various calamities that have happened in my life. However, these days it would not seem so appropriate, especially when I am probably in the best place I have ever been as to how I feel (generally feeling quite secure in myself), and where I seem to have no issues with how I behave either, especially towards others. This was not always the case, and hence the above title. I have perhaps several dozen alternative titles too. I do think a more appropriate title is in order, and perhaps it would be better still to split my life history up into suitable sections - given the amount of material I have (500,000 words at least as of now) - such that several memoirs could be written, each focusing on various different facets of my life.

My active life in several different areas, such as - cycling, caving, rock-climbing, mountaineering, dinghy sailing, yachting, camping and fell-walking could obviously fill one book alone - and even there, I will have had so many experiences in each of these areas so as to make that quite a fat volume. A second could concentrate on my mental health issues, where they might have come from, and how I seem to have emerged victorious after so many years of descent into darkness - mirroring my caving perhaps and with the mountaineering doing the opposite, climbing to a higher place. Some obvious references spring to mind - the Ups and Downs of Life, perhaps. A third could detail my struggles with having no long-term partners in my life and the problems that this has caused - and again related to mental health issues. A fourth might be the hardest to write, where some of the darkest times occurred (but also including some of the most rewarding experiences) and where it might be impossible to put this down in writing. Besides all this, it might be much more effective to actually create fictional accounts rather than just being factually accurate since any messages that I might want to put across might be better achieved by doing so. My writing too might improve, since although it is obviously legible and reasonably easy to understand, I would like it to be more expressive - and reflecting my inner self better.



Perhaps an autobiography, the fifth book, and pulling strands from all the different areas, might be entitled, The Good, the Great, the Bad, and the Ugly, since that might reflect the true position.

 

[Mock Turtle]

You talking to me, huh?

One often hears accounts related by people of having terrifying experiences in bed, being confronted by the devil or a demon, for example, and being unable to move. It generally comes under the heading of sleep paralysis, and the scientific explanations for this are usually quite sufficient to explain these sensations and experiences. My only experience of this happened like this - it was quite hot at the time, and so I only had a sheet covering me I think. I did have the feeling of a malicious presence in my bedroom, and of this demon trying to rip the sheet off to expose me and to take me to Hell. What was actually happening, was that I held the top of the sheet over my face, to hide, and my toes (toenails needed clipping) were clawing at the bottom of the sheet trying to rip it from my hands - or perhaps there was a simpler explanation - it really was the Devil, and no doubt I will find out the correct answer when I die - I can’t wait! I can’t remember any sounds occurring during this incident, and it might have resulted from feelings of guilt I probably had at the time - I was also probably descending into depression too. This might have occurred after an evening of drinking too - can't remember.

My only experience of a possible spiritual phenomenon, was whilst hiking by myself once as a younger teenager. I was getting rather tired, and wished for some help, and lo and behold, I almost felt as if some presence was nudging me in the back, encouraging me to carry on. I could have done with a lot more help than this at times, but none came, so I doubt that this was a legitimate spiritual experience. My surviving the two times I very nearly lost my life I can safely put down to my own efforts, not to some imaginary entity.

The one other occasion that might have involved some demon was a little puzzling at the time, and occurred when I was at loggerheads with someone in authority. I had expressed the opinion that the treatment of those often coming before the law was often a little out of proportion to the affects on their lives - often losing their jobs, friends, future employment etc. I pointed out that this might often result in feelings of anger, resentment, and vengeance by many of those who had such experiences. To make my point, I just said ‘Listen!’, several times to him, as he continued to speak, until eventually he stopped talking. The sound of my voice seemed to come from a much deeper place, my core, and it did seem to have a remarkable affect on him, as if his authority had suddenly been stripped from him. Perhaps it was the devil speaking through me, but I doubt it. It was probably just a deeply held conviction being expressed, and which I knew to be true. If society feels that this is justice then they should perhaps be prepared for the vindictive consequences that sometimes result. Later in life, I had a rather unusual throat issue that resulted in my voice apparently breaking and thus ensuring that I did indeed have that same deeper voice - and perhaps the same conviction in relation to many matters, as if I had truly left my childhood behind.

For parts of my early life I couldn’t trust any internal voices or thoughts, which at times were common and recognised as just that, but I don’t think it ever got so bad as to get even close to schizophrenia. Many years ago, at a job interview, I had my inner voice telling me that I had probably got the job, yet I probably also knew that this was not the case. For the first time ever prior to an interview, I had had a beer with my meal in a local pub - it was after quite a long journey to get there so I really could have done with just being relaxed. I suspected that the interviewer had smelt beer on my breath as he showed me a technical drawing, and had already decided he didn’t want me. So even though I might have felt that the interview had gone well, something inside knew this was definitely not the case - which is what happened - I didn't get the job.

I find the notion that it was "God's will" or that we (not me obviously) might have a guardian angel, to be a little problematic - and just too open to interpretation of events.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Love's Labour's Lost - comedy and tragedy

I think we will almost certainly recognise love it when it happens, since the wave of emotions felt should indicate this, and for me there was little comparison with any other feelings felt towards others. I can recognise the obsession we often feel towards others but I doubt it is love. The attraction I felt for one of my early girlfriends (Ann) would certainly have been enhanced if I had loved her, and I think it was absent because I was just not emotionally connected enough at the time. Since it occurred when I was about 16 (she being 15), it might just have been my immaturity but I don't believe this. Looking back, she was almost all that I could have wanted, possibly a version of my mother, since she was a lovely person too, so there was nothing really to prevent me loving her.

I had a later infatuation at college which drove me round the bend with frustration, but again I don't think I felt love for this girl. The first instance where I experienced love came after I had begun to reconnect with my emotional side. The feelings towards her just emerged somehow, and they weren’t there when I first met her. There was much more emotion involved and little actual thinking, other than doing all I could for this girl. I had known her for a little while and we had been close. However, she was too young.

The second occasion, rather more powerful and almost instantaneous, had been a love-at-first-sight moment. Looking back on this experience, I can see how this might occur for one party, but rarely would it happen for both. Long marriages might be founded on the latter perhaps. This particular feeling seems, to me at least, to be that the loved party fulfils some idealised version of what our unconscious selves are seeking in another. It might come as a surprise also as to who we actually fall in love with, as opposed to what we consciously think the type of person we are attracted to should be like.

I also have to disagree with the notion that there is a right person out there for all of us. A good friend of mine always used to say that someone would come along to fill the void in my life but it never happened. I think there are many compatible partners for each of us. The more we interact with them then the more likely are we to find that right one. My friend, as for me until a few years ago, did not know about my AvPD, which I believe has been the main reason for not finding a partner.

If I had any solution for finding a partner, as for perhaps conquering AvPD, it would be to reconnect your emotional self such that your actions are driven as much by your emotions as they would be by your thinking. Failing this, then having a partner with whom we can get along with and perhaps eventually love might be the next best thing. I have met many girls and missed an awful lot of opportunities in my life, with many of the girls approaching me since I rarely made a move towards them.

Still, better to loved and lost etc.

 

[Mock Turtle]

The law is the law, sonny!

I did lots of cycling in my late teens, often in the evenings and at the weekends, such that I explored much of the countryside all around. I would seek out the steepest hills on the Ordnance Survey maps, and make sure I could cycle up all of them, after descending them. I endeavoured never to walk up any hill, which I managed to do until I met the steep hill at Robin Hood’s Bay, near Whitby (1 in 3, I think), and being cobbled, it just about did for me. All hills up to 1 in 4 gradient were generally no problem. A friend at secondary school, and his friend, had a nice little side line in stealing bicycles, breaking them up, and selling the parts. He apparently went on to become mayor of his local town. Naughty boy.

My eldest brother and his friend had easy access to many cars, since the latter worked in a garage. They probably didn’t see much harm in borrowing an e-type Jaguar (maximum speed 140 plus) and taking it for a spin up the M1 motorway. But then, when I had a test ride on a Honda VFR-750 motorbike, this consisted of investigating its potential (about the same as an e-type) on a nearby (empty) motorway, and very stable it was too, certainly much better than the Kawasaki GPz550 which I owned. That would do 120 mph at a pinch, but was happier cruising at 90 mph - not that I ever did that of course not even all the way from London to Manchester, officer. I might have bought the Honda at the time but it was just a bit too expensive for me. It was a nice bike and apparently very reliable too, as was mine.

My first of many car-related convictions, mostly speeding, was not even my fault, not being in the car, let alone driving it at the time. Two friends had stayed with me whilst they were out of work, and as I was travelling down to London by train, I asked one of them to drive my car back to my flat. He was caught speeding, not by much, and since he was effectively uninsured, he gave my name but paid the fine. I couldn’t really do anything otherwise but accept this since he was a friend, but I didn’t appreciate my first three unearned endorsement points. However, I did make up for my lack of presence on this occasion by accumulating many more points over the years, including a six month ban once.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Don't point that thing at me!

There were many bombed and ruined buildings for children to explore after the end of WWII, but the suburbs, where we lived, got off fairly lightly compared with most of inner London. One almost totally destroyed house was like this for at least 15 years - possibly the family were killed and no relatives in existence. The V-1 flying bombs (last launched in October 1944) and V-2 rockets (last launched in March 1945) did a lot of this random damage. We saw examples of both of these weapons at the Science Museum, where they apparently remain. It seems that many bombs fell quite close to our house, one near our primary school, but then I was not even conceived at the time, unlike my brothers. Also, it seems that London was hardly the only target for such bombing at this time. It appears that the closest the V-2 rockets got to us were near White City and Kilburn High Road, not sure about any V-1s. Apparently 15 V-1s fell in the area during the war. One lad once brought a live .303 rifle bullet into secondary school and attempted to fire it in the playground by the use of a nail and a brick, I believe. Not much thought shown there, especially since in the firing line was a house across the road. Fortunately he failed in his attempt. Nothing like having the war brought to one’s school. Whilst climbing a Via Ferrata in Italy once, I came across a few live rounds from World War I on a scree slope (deactivated by a chap at work), which apparently was the same ammunition used by Lee Harvey Oswald to kill President Kennedy using his Mannlicher-Carcano rifle. On the Coast-to-Coast walk once, I came across a modern live round by the side of the road (near Catterick Camp, and taken to the police), and we found a box of ammunition once in the sump of a cave (Penyghent) - not sure what we did with them. Tut, tut! Anyone would think it was America!

 

[Mock Turtle]

It's an Odd Boy who doesn't like sport

I never had much interest in football or cricket as a child so perhaps this ensured I was never part of the in crowd - I was so uninterested in football that I doubt I actually knew the rules of the game even when I went to secondary school, although I did possess a (second-hand) pair of football boots and a cricket bat. In later life I lived in hearing distance of the Manchester United ground at Old Trafford, but I never went to a match there, not even once. The only time I think I went to a football match was when I went along with some friends when we had some spare time to fill. It was at Sheffield, and being in a surging crowd was a new experience. The only way I managed not to be crushed or trampled on was by lifting my feet, the crowd supporting my weight, and by having my forearms horizontal - fists pressed into the person in front and elbows to the rear. My interest in football and cricket never improved, as with most other spectator sports, apart from skiing, to which I could relate, having done some. At least I never got into any spats about supporting various teams, whether of the football or cricket variety, since of course, I couldn’t have given a who won in general! Fans? They are things that you plug in and switch on to cool off, not to raise the temperature! But it seems that, like having a soul-mate is der rigour for many, so many more do not feel complete unless they have a football team to support. Thus often having a crutch and a source of pain for themselves all at once - I really feel bad for them - not!

I quite enjoyed and was good at gymnastics however. I much preferred to be doing things rather than watching them. I did of course watch most of the Olympics, including the Winter Olympics, and some World Cup football, along with the tennis at Wimbledon. I did also go to many racing car events when younger, but this too waned. I was at Brand’s Hatch watching some racing in 1968 with my brothers when the news that Jim Clark had died at Hockenheim passed around the crowd, such that there were an awful lot of very sad people that day. Later I became more interested in motorbike racing, especially watching Valentino Rossi on TV - missing out on Agostini during his time, who was perhaps as great or greater.

When the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band were active, with me seeing them live once, I was quite taken with their music, and the following lyrics, from Sport (The Odd Boy), I can relate to, although I have never read any Mallarmé I regret to say:

The Odd Boy lay down by the football field
Took out a slim volume of Mallarmé
The centre-forward called him an imbecile
It's an Odd Boy who doesn't like sport

Sport, sport, masculine sport
Equips a young man for Society,
Yes, sport turns out a jolly good sort
It's an Odd Boy who doesn't like sport

Give him a nice cold shower!

 

[Mock Turtle]

Ah, the secure child - far less trouble in life

As mentioned previously, probably my earliest memory is of getting lost at the seaside, at Shoeburyness, when aged about two or three. I remember being carried by a policeman from the beach to a children’s home, kneeling on a chair whilst looking out of the window, and crying uncontrollably waiting for my mother to come. This incident will hardly be unique, with many children undergoing a similar experience in their childhood. How traumatic it is for any individual child is what matters probably, and for me at the time it did appear to be unbearably painful. I had the distinct impression that I had been abandoned, since I was probably my usual sulky self, and perhaps felt this was my due punishment, but apparently I just got lost on the beach. It appears that traumatic memories will be the earliest memories for about one in four people, others having a range of different memory experiences, and those being much less likely to be traumatic.

Research has shown that children will react differently when they are separated from their mothers - divided as to forming either Secure or Insecure attachments, and the subdivision of Insecure attachments: Avoidant, Ambivalent, and Disorganized. I would possibly place myself in the Insecure/Ambivalent area rather than anywhere else, but this is just speculation since I have so few memories before about age eight. Perhaps the fact that this memory is the first that I remember, and it being so traumatic, had some implication for any subsequent shy or avoidant behaviour later in life. Shyness as a child might be the one major factor that results from our earliest attachment experiences or might be something we are born with, and possibly it will always be there, waiting to develop into something worse unless our personalities take a direction well away from this. This doesn’t necessarily mean that shyness cannot be overcome, but setbacks in life might still make us prone to reverting or perhaps developing a psychological disorder.

Although I have rarely put myself forward so as to be the centre of attention, I have sometimes felt that had I done so then this would have changed me in some manner, possibly so as to become much less self-conscious and less inhibited. For example, later in life, I had to take the leadership role (as skipper) when a few of us chartered sailing yachts in Scotland for short holidays, and on several occasions. This was inevitable mainly because I was the most experienced of the group and also because I was the one who proposed and organised these events. Some of those onboard the yachts had no previous experience of sailing at all. I did seem to cope quite well during these holidays, and we did have to deal with quite a few dangerous situations, either from the weather or from breakages of equipment. So these experiences did benefit me enormously in gaining self-confidence, as we didn’t have any major problems during any of these despite having to deal with bad weather and other issues as mentioned.

Now, I seem to have no issues with self-consciousness and I can look back on all this with some amusement, as to why I just soldiered on with what I had when perhaps a little more effort and courage at the time might have changed matters considerably. But then again, it might have needed a major breakthrough in my emotional nature to have truly effected change. I still had an emotional barrier between myself and others to overcome after all - warding off any anticipated pain.

 

[Mock Turtle]

Nice day out on the Mönch (4107m), Switzerland - friend in picture:

Not so nice day out for starling about to be eaten by a sparrowhawk in my garden - nice of it to pose for picture though: