Menstruating is a bore at the best of times. How often have I done the math on my cycle and groaned? Of course it would have to come during that hot date/board meeting/galactic battle/City Mountaineering adventure. This is partly about mood, partly about movement (I find I’m strangely uncoordinated in the first days of my period), partly the sore heaviness in the body. Of course it will fall at inconvenient times: it happens every bloody month. But look, the wild is not a bad place to have a period. Mountains are moody too – you can lean into it. I find long walks do as much good for cramps (I get them bad in my lower back) as pain killers. The problems to solve relate more to hygiene and privacy, and, women, there are solutions. In fact, trying to solve these problems for trekking is what led me to the greatest discovery of my menstrual life: the menstrual cup. I made the switch from tampons and pads because I got sick of packing them out. But really, I always found tampons and pads uncomfortable and inconvenient, and I sometimes literally forget the menstrual cup is there – which is about as strong an endorsement as I can give it. Here’s what I pack: - Menstrual cup: mine is a Mooncup, but there are several reputable brands on the market; - Pre-moistened wipes: period or no period, I always have these; - A small, reclosable freezer bag for waste*: I line mine with a dog poo bag for opacity and convenience (can easily throw away liner and reuse main bag) but you can line it with kitchen foil or put gaffer tap around the outside (this weighs more), or do whatever suits you; I also sprinkle some baking soda into my waste bag to absorb any odours; - Hand sanitizer: always, always within easy reach; - Ibuprofen and/or paracetamol: tossing and turning on your sleeping mat all night is no wilderness heaven. *If you use tampons/pads, you just need a bigger waste bag. And here are the logistics when modern conveniences are not available: - Dig a cat hole as you would for other toilet requirements - Clean hands with sanitizer - Remove cup and empty into hole - Clean cup with wipe - Replace cup - Put used wipe in waste bag - Clean hands with sanitizer I keep a small stuff sack with all my toilet things together – toilet paper, wipes, waste bag, extra hand sanitizer (see picture). Much easier to grab one thing from the rucksack and be sure you have the full kit. The menstrual cup does take some getting used to. I had a few awkward moments with it in the beginning, including one that left my trousers stained for a few days on a trek. (This is the worst that can happen! And it was barely noticeable.) So, if you’ve never used one, and you want to, give yourself a few months to get used to it before taking it into the wild. I find that stigma and squeamishness around periods is fast disappearing from trekking culture. It is extraordinary how, even five years ago, there was so much reluctance to acknowledge it as something to deal with, and much harder to find or share information on practicalities. Strange for that to be true in an environment where other bodily functions can be breezy conversational currency. I wonder if mountain guides (Stu?) keep tampons in their first aid kits for emergencies nowadays – or if they should. I’m not sure it would have occurred to me to ask, if I were caught out. I was joking with Stu on the Cape Wrath Trail recently (part of the expedition series, and totally freaking amazing) that woe would befall those who annoyed me on Day 1. It turned out that the midges took most of my temper, which may or may not have been related to hormones at all. I did burst into tears when Stu said we had 5k more of mountain bog to hike before we could camp, but then everyone did (just kidding, it was GREAT). Stu said: you should write a blog about it. Here you go.

How do I get fit for the mountains? This is, without doubt, one of most frequently asked questions we receive here at City Mountaineering. And it’s understandable; climbing mountains is seen by most as a gruelling physical activity. In fact, the very act of climbing a mountain is often used as a metaphor for doing something really hard. So, it stands to reason that some people want to know how to prepare themselves physically before they head to the hills. Let’s first tackle some misconceptions though. In the context of City Mountaineering trips at least, hiking in the mountains is not intended to be some gruelling feat of endurance, leaving all but the very fittest heaving for breath on the lower slopes. As trite as it may sound, first and foremost we want everyone to enjoy themselves. That won’t happen if we are pushing everyone to their physical limit. It is true that some of our trips are “harder” than others but, for the most part, we want you to ‘enjoy, not endure’ and the chances are you're probably fit enough already. Let’s not forget, after all, that we are in the business of selling trips and experiences. We won’t sell many if people don’t enjoy themselves! That said though, it’s fair to say that the fitter you are the more likely you are to enjoy the whole experience. And sometimes it’s just the knowledge of having trained and prepared for something that helps people push themselves that bit further in the moment (the reverse is also true: if you haven’t prepared for something, when the going gets tough you can often find yourself questioning your own ability to cope with it, not because you aren’t actually fit enough but simply because you know you didn’t prepare). Now, of course, fitness and the advice surrounding it is a huge (and actually quite fascinating) subject. Sports scientists and personal trainers make a career out of it. I am neither, and so the following is just some general advice and ideas based on my own experiences on how to get mountain fit. If you are preparing for something bigger, like a trip to the Himalaya or up Kilimanjaro, the following is also broadly applicable and hopefully useful. However, for some tailored advice and/or a specific training plan including guided trips to the UK mountains, please get in touch (between us we have both a wealth of experience in fitness and in climbing at high attitude). Walking Let’s not overcomplicate things. We’re not trying to run a four-minute mile or break the hour record. We simply want to be able to hike up and down mountains reasonably comfortably in order to maximise our enjoyment of it. Hiking is, well, walking. OK, so it’s walking up things a lot and often it's walking for several hours at a time, but it is still just walking. So, one of the best things we can do to prepare ourselves for heading into the mountains is to go walking (it’s also a great way to break in those new hiking boots). Grab a rucksack, pack a lunch and head out for a day. There are loads of great places to spend a day walking near to London. There’s the North Downs Way in Surrey, the Severn Sisters down in Sussex or the Chilterns to the west of London. All of these places are reachable by train from London and they all have the benefit of having a good few ups and downs. If you want to stay in London, Richmond Park is a fantastic place for a day’s walk. There’s a few inclines and you’d be surprised at just how wild it feels in parts. Try getting off the main paths and onto the less trodden trails. There’s also a couple of cafes to keep you motivated. Staying in London, you don’t have to walk somewhere green. Why not spend a day walking around the tourist attractions or up and down some of London’s hillier streets (legend has it that a certain Stuart Shipp trained for Aconcagua by walking up and down Telegraph Hill in Brockley with a few bowling balls in his rucksack!). Also, try walking up the escalator or taking the stairs instead of the lift for an easy win. Finally, don’t be a fair-weather walker. Head out on the windy and rainy days too. One of the key differences about being in the mountains is that you’ll be hiking in all weathers, experiencing all the elements (this is also one of the best bits about being in the mountains). So, getting used to walking in the wind and rain will prepare you for that unavoidable mountain weather. It’ll also give you a chance to test those waterproofs! Cycling There are some striking similarities between cycling and hiking in the mountains. Firstly, your legs bear the brunt of things in both activities. Secondly, apart from on the steep bits, you are unlikely to be significantly out of breath during the course of either activity (unless, of course, you are particularly serious about your cycling and like to push hard). For the sport scientists amongst you, both activities broadly keep you in the Zone 1 to Zone 3 heart rate zones. Like hiking, when you’re cycling you can hold a conversation with your fellow cyclists, until you get onto the hills… Cycling is then, for my money at least, one of the best things you can do to get fit for the mountains. And certainly I have felt at my most “prepared” for the mountains when I’ve been cycling a lot. You don’t have to go full Lycra, carbon fibre either. Any bike will do. Richmond Park is, again, your friend here. In London, it really is one of the best places to cycle and even has a few – albeit small – hills (try doing hill repeats to train your climbing lungs). Do be prepared for the pelotons of Lycra and carbon fibre though! Slightly further afield, the Surrey Hills are a truly beautiful place to cycle and are easily reached from south London (or jump on a train to Dorking and start from there). My final point on cycling is that commuting by bike can be the easiest of easy wins. In the time it takes you to suffer a commute on public transport, you could have cycled instead. You’ll have done your training for the day without having to make any extra time for it. You’ll also save money, help the planet, feel happier…don’t get me started on the infinite benefits of cycling as a means of transport but, suffice to say, it is the answer to most of our problems! Anyway, if you find the distance to work intimidating, try thinking about it in terms of time instead. For instance, a five-mile cycle might only take you half an hour. Or perhaps just cycle to and from a train station. In any case, if you’ve cycled to work every day for the few weeks leading up to a trip to the mountains, I guarantee you’ll feel well prepared. Running Running is a difficult subject to tackle in this context because how far and how fast people can run is very dependent on individual fitness levels. It is no doubt a very good way to get fit and to stay fit though and it can be a great way to prepare yourself or the mountains if you enjoy doing it. Consider again the type of activity hiking in the mountains is though. It is one in which your heart rate remains relatively low. Because running is an impactful activity, and simply because it can be hard, it’s likely that your heart rate will be higher when you are running than when you are, say, cycling or walking. The other effect of that is that you’ll probably be able to cycle and walk for far longer periods than you could run for. And as we discussed earlier, hiking is, if nothing else, an activity that takes several hours. One way to get around that, of course, is to run slower for longer. If you have a heart rate monitor, aim for running in Zone 2. That can be a very slow pace for some people so, to make it more interesting, try trail running. The North Downs Way offers some great trail running, as does Richmond and Bushy Park. The added benefit of running on trails is getting used to travelling on rough terrain (and trails are generally hiller than roads). Lots of people don’t enjoy running. Regardless of why that might be, the only way you are going to stick to something is if you enjoy it. In my view, walking and cycling are far better ways to prepare yourself for the mountains so, if you don’t enjoy running and your goal is simply to get fit for the mountains, don’t do it and don’t feel as though you have to. Gym The gym is a dirty word to Stu. You won’t ever find him in one. In fairness to his view, hiking is an outdoor activity and there are few things that you can do in the gym that translate even marginally to climbing mountains (the Altitude Centre is an exception to this, of course, and there is much to be said about the benefits on training in high altitude conditions). However, sometimes in the midst of a busy working week, the gym is the only thing some of us can squeeze in (another reason to cycle to work). So, what can you do in the gym that will help prepare you for the mountains? Well, the treadmill is surely a good bet. Set it at a low pace and at an incline, strap on a rucksack filled with kit and start “hiking”. The rowing machine also offers great cardiovascular benefits whilst placing an emphasis on leg strength/endurance. As far as weights go…well, when it comes to mountain climbing, they don’t. You could make an argument for supplementing your training with squats, lunges and leg press to build leg strength, but I think it would be a fairly weak one. The movement of hiking up a mountain slope is more comparable to walking up stairs than to doing a deep squat. If you do use the gym to prepare for the mountains, do so with caution and take heed of this fable: Many years ago, I attempted to climb Aconcagua in the Andes. It was on this trip, in fact, that I first met Stu. Anyway, as it happened, in the months leading up to the trip I met my now wife. So, whilst Stu was hiking up Telegraph Hill with bowling balls in his rucksack, I was in the gym working on my biceps to impress my new girlfriend. Guess who summitted that mountain and who had to turn back? In reality I was probably fit enough to summit but, as I alluded to earlier, I knew my training had been entirely inappropriate for my goal and this played on my mind as soon as I got out of breath and my first altitude headache set in. So, rather than see these as the normal effects of being at high altitude, I convinced myself that my lack of proper training was to blame. There was no way I was summiting that mountain. If you'd like any further advice on anything discussed in this article or on getting fit for the mountains in general, please don't hesitate to get in touch.

Birds can be a bit of a mystery to people. That flying habit of theirs makes identifying them difficult for the uninitiated and it’s easy to be overwhelmed by the amount of species you see when you open a field guide. However, knowing what you’re looking at can really enhance your enjoyment of being in the mountains, just in the same way that it’s nice to know the name of the mountain you’ve just spent three hours hiking up. The best advice I can offer for getting to know birds is to have a good idea of what species commonly occur in the habitat you’re about to go into. That way you can narrow things down a bit (and it stops you from making outlandish misidentifications). Luckily (or unluckily depending on what point you're trying to make), there aren’t that many commonly occurring birds in the mountain landscapes of Britain. I’ve picked five species that you are very likely to see when hiking here in the UK. Get to know these and the other, scarcer species will stand out too! Meadow Pipit Let’s start with the archetypical LBJ ('Little Brown Job' for those unfamiliar with birding vernacular). LBJ is an umbrella term that tends to get used pejoratively, as though these types of birds are so bland and uninteresting that it's hardly worth giving them their own names. This really only speaks of the laziness of the observer though as a closer look at any LBJ often reveals a nuanced and complex plumage, and each LBJ species has its own fascinating ecology. The meadow pipit is no exception. Its plumage is a cacophony of browns paired with a streaky buff front (other things to look out for are its upright stance and white outer-tail feathers). All of which serve to conceal it amongst the brush in which it skulks. More often than not then, you’ll hear a meadow pipit before you see it. That being the case, it’s worth having a listen to its call. If you’ve spent any time in the mountains it’ll no doubt illicit a response along the lines of: ‘ahhhhh so that’s what it is!’. It's fair to say that the meadow pipit is a fairly ubiquitous bird up in the hills and, if you see an LBJ fly up from the brush, the chances are it’s a mippit (more birding vernacular!). Like anything ubiquitous though, it tends to become so familiar that it fades into the background, which might explain why the meadow pipit features on ornithological writer Stephen Moss’s list of least favourite birds. But I would urge you to pay this bird a bit more attention when you’re next in the hills, especially in the spring when you might be treated to a performance of its parachuting display flight, perfectly choreographed to impress lady mippits and hikers alike. Common Raven Many people think they have seen a raven; they probably haven’t. Unless you are in the right sort of habitat, you are very unlikely to see a raven these days (they used to be far more widespread in the 19th century but numbers dwindled as a result of persecution by gamekeepers and famers). Instead, it’s much more likely that you have seen one of the raven’s less impressive cousins, the carrion crow or rook. That is, unless you are in the mountains, where you’re every bit as likely to see a solitary raven appearing ominously out of the clag on a summit, croaking as it keeps a watchful eye on you, as if waiting for your inevitable demise. Ravens are enormous, impressive birds and to confuse them with the crow is to do them a disservice. They are a true brute of a bird with a brutish bill to match, and if seen up close you’ll never forget them. However, if you’re unsure that you’re looking at one, have a look at the bird’s tail. The raven has a diagnostically diamond shaped tail in flight. If you’re still unsure, listen out for its call. Like most corvids (members of the crow family), the raven’s name is onomatopoeic. If you listen carefully to its croaking kronk – and use your imagination - you can just about make out the word raven. Essentially, it calls its own name so you really can’t go wrong! Common Buzzard Buzzards are a bit of a lesson for birding in general: if you learn the most commonly occurring stuff, the rarer stuff will stand out when you do see it. Buzzards are the most commonly occurring bird of prey in the UK so they are definitely worth getting to know. If you are in Snowdonia or the Lake District and you see a large bird of prey soaring above, it will more than likely be a buzzard. If you are in the Cairngorms or the Highlands, it is still more than likely going to be a buzzard but, if you’ve got to know your buzzards, the golden eagle will stand out like a sore thumb! Looks wise, the buzzard can probably be seen as the blueprint for bird of prey design, its lack of notable features being notable in itself. Its plumage can also be confusingly variable with various different iterations of browns, buffs and whites. You’ll often see buzzards perched on fences or telegraph poles, but when soaring in flight look for its broad wings, short neck and medium length tail. Listen out too for its mournful, foreboding mewing call. There are of course other birds of prey to look out for when you’re in the mountains and I’m not saying you won’t see a hen harrier or a white-tailed sea eagle, but it’s good to know what you are really looking at so that it’s even more exciting when you do see those scarcer birds. One more thing whilst we’re on birds of prey: not everything that soars is one. Corvids and gulls have a habit of soaring on thermals too so don't be fooled! Red Grouse The red grouse is about as British as it gets when it comes to birds. Not only does it invoke the thoughts of tweed and whisky, it is also an endemic species which it means it only occurs here in the UK and Ireland (it is a sub-species of the willow grouse found in mainland Europe). Its gobbling call will be familiar to any hill walker. Often, you’ll see a whirring blur of a bird after inadvertently flushing one or two from the heather. The red grouse is arguably one of the most important birds in the UK. That is because red grouse – or more accurately the people who rear it to shoot it (think tweed!) – have changed the landscape of much of the uplands in England and Scotland. Much of our moorland only looks the way it does because it is managed to produce and sustain maximum numbers of red grouse to be shot at by paying clients. Many upland birds of prey, such as the hen harrier which preys on red grouse chicks, find themselves persecuted as a result too. This is an inflammatory topic though so I will leave it there. If you’d like to find out more though (if only to understand why the landscape looks like it does), I recommend Mark Avery’s book Inglorious, named after the Glorious Twelfth, the name given to the start of the grouse hunting season on the 12th August. Wheatear First things first, the wheatear is a summer migrant so you’re only going to see this bird between late March and August. It breeds in west and northwest Britain but spends its winters in sub-Saharan Africa. These days it favours upland habitats and you’ve a good chance of encountering one of these striking birds whist hiking in the summer, particularly in Scotland. Generally seen on its own, the first thing that you’ll notice is its incredible posture, it having a remarkably upright stance. Its bandit’s mask eye stripe will also likely catch your eye as it hops along the ground. But perhaps its most striking feature is that which gives it is name: its white T-shaped rump. This flash of white on its behind is as diagnostic as it is eponymous. It's why in times gone by people called it the ‘wheteres’ or…white arse! Acknowledgements The meadow pipit photograph is by Ben Andrew, an award winning UK based wildlife photographer. Check out other images by Ben here. All other photographs are by Daniel Trim, double winner of the British Wildlife Photographer of the Year award. Check out other images by Dan here and @danieltrimphotography Many thanks to Ben and Dan for letting me use their images.

Monday 16th March: I was collecting a group from Glasgow train station for some snowy fun in The Trossachs and Glen Coe areas of Scotland. At this point we were aware of the C-word and that it had made its way to our shores. However, the “stay indoors” guidance had yet to be issued, so off to the hills we went. Thursday 19th March: Things were beginning to get a bit more serious. Non-essential travel was advised against and the social distancing measures that we’re all now so familiar with were being introduced. We headed back to Glasgow so the group could get back to their homes in London as quickly as possible. In search of isolation For me though, things were different. I don't have a fixed abode. I’m a vagabond, navigating my way around and between the mountains of the UK. Travel is my life. I camp when I'm on my own and I stay in 'regular' accommodation when guiding groups. What was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to stay? Do I stay in Scotland, or do I head south of the border? I decided to stay in my comfort zone. I decided to stay in Scotland. I was going to go remote. After all, getting away from people and self-isolating is what I do best! I had two weeks’ worth of freeze-dried food left over from a 'Winter Traverse of The Cairngorms' trip that I led in February. I had gas canisters and a stove. I had my trusty tent and sleeping bag. I was good to go! A few days into my mountain based self-isolation though my world unravelled...We were told that, save for shopping or once daily exercise, we couldn't be outside at all: LOCKDOWN! When I found out about the lockdown I was camping north of Glen Avon in The Cairngorms and, for the first time in a very long time, I was lost. Not lost in the landscape, but in my head. What was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go? I have just been told that my existence, the one I’ve lived for the past four years, was not acceptable. In fact, it was illegal. Was I now illegal? It was incomprehensible and not worth consideration. The mountains around me started spinning. The ground beneath me began to warp as I stood motionless, wondering: “What the f**k do I do now?” Home in the hills I collected my kit and headed back to the minibus in the vain hope that a plan would simply come to me. As I approached the minibus I received a message from my good friend, Ewan, who resides in Inveralligin, a small hamlet just beyond Torridon. Ewan and his wife Claire are currently working overseas and their home - usually let to holidayers - was now empty. Ewan and Claire very kindly offered up their beautiful home for me to isolate within. My friends would tell you that I am a rather stubborn person who would usually turn down any offer of help, but on this occasion, with nowhere else to go, I thanked them and made my way to the west coast. So, for the first time in four years, I have a base. I have a bed. I have a kitchen with a fridge and running water. I have all day access to a flushing toilet, and I have a sofa. I can take my shoes off and walk around in just my socks. These small things that you may take for granted are usually absent in my life, and the return to a more civilised existence has definitely offered me some comfort in this predicament. I have been asked a lot over the past couple of weeks about whether there are any downsides to being in such an isolated location up here. The answer, for me, is simply: no! I love isolated and wild places and here I have access to the rugged west coast of Scotland, which is quite literally on my doorstep. I have the mighty Beinn Alligin peering down at me from the front of the house and the high tide kisses the dry stone wall at the far end of the garden. The birds are returning to full song, the otters have been playing in the stream, red deer roam the gardens and the local seal keeps me amused with his intrigue as I balance precariously on the ruined pier trying to get a better look. Frankly, I couldn’t be “locked-down” in a much better place. Looking to the future Day-to-day I am kept busy working through the various impacts to City Mountaineering caused by the C-word, but I still make time to get outside for my once-daily walk or run. I’ve not yet ventured to Munro heights, but the yearning is there and, when the weather improves, I’ll take the short saunter to the summit of Tom na Gruagaich. Thinking about the future, when the C-word goes takes a back seat, the situation I personally face is looking rather challenging. I need to organise mountain trips for groups and encourage people to join me at short notice just to keep the proverbial bank manager at bay. However, I choose not to dwell on that. That’s Future-Stuart’s problem. I’ve always tried to live in the moment and I’m currently in a stunning location, resting and resetting my normal. There are people suffering right now. Whether it be through loneliness or anxiety, or through contracting or knowing someone that has contracted the virus. I feel anguish for them. And I hope this virus disappears as quickly as it arrived. That said, however, I do wonder if this lockdown will continue long enough to for me to claim squatters’ rights on Ben View from my friends Ewan and Claire. They are truly amazing, kind people and their generosity in helping me affirms the fact that I have the best friends anyone could ask for… but this house though! I’m living in paradise. I might just claim it as my own. Would you like to spend a week at this cottage? We've booked it for our Highland Christmas trip this year!! (2xdouble and 2xtwin rooms available) - click here to find out more Article featured in The Great Outdoors Magazine

‘You’ll need this’, I was told as I was handed a bright red canister. I tried to work out what it was without looking like that’s what I was trying to do. ‘It’s bear spray’, she said, clearly not fooled. I was in the Rocky Mountains at the head of a trail. I’d flown over to Canada to meet my now wife’s parents for the first time and we were about to start a hike up a trail near to Lake Louise. I looked again at the canister. ‘Oh, so I spray it on me?’, I asked. It seemed a reasonable assumption at the time. After all, until that point in my life the only creature I’d ever conspired to deter were mosquitos. The raucous laughter that my question was met with told me that I had indeed made the wrong assumption. Brilliant. I soon learnt that the canister contained what is essentially pepper spray and that, in the event that we were charged by an angry grizzly, I was to spray it at the bear’s eyes. Of course, this would necessitate waiting for the bear to get close enough for that to be possible. Brilliant. As we set off up the trail, bear spray holstered coolly on my belt, I felt something that I’d never felt before when starting a hike: trepidation. Out there, somewhere, was an animal that could, if it so pleased, kill me. This is no exaggeration either. Just a few years before my visit, in the town nearby, a woman had been attacked and killed by a bear on her morning run (think of that the next time you’re running through Richmond Park). '...unthinking mankillers...' Now, that is not to say that the bears are vicious, unthinking mankillers, mauling hikers and runners for the sheer fun of it - there are many reasons why a bear might feel the need to attack a human and I certainly don’t seek to vilify bears here. Usually it’s after being startled or in protection of their cubs. Generally though – in fact 78% of the time according to a recent study of brown bears – a disturbed bear will either run away or be indifferent to the human in front of it. But nevertheless, the threat is a real one. An eight-foot tall, jogger-killing, real one. Walking through a landscape in which you might at any moment come across a creature that could kill you should be an unpleasant experience, right? One to be avoided at all costs you might think. Oddly though, as we continued on our hike through the coniferous forests of the lower slopes, more alert to every snap of a branch or rustle in the undergrowth than I ever had been before, I felt no desperate desire to turn back and head for the safety of the car park. The opposite was true, I wanted to press on. I was excited, almost energised by it. As a Brit alive in the 21st century, I have grown very use to being at the top of the food chain. Our wildernesses no longer harbour any wild, large carnivores. Lynx, wolves and bears – all of which once roamed this island – are long extinct and these days you are far more likely to be licked by a friendly Labrador than you are to be stalked by a hungry cave lion. I think we British take this for granted. In fact, I’d wager that it’s not something very many of us have ever given a first, let alone a second, thought to. We can walk in any forest or through any mountain valley free in the knowledge that, save for perhaps an over-zealous herd of cows or a cider-thirsty wasp, we are highly unlikely to be harmed by a non-human animal. We have come to view this as the natural order of things. '...dodging imaginary bears...' After my experience dodging imaginary bears in the Rockies, however, I’m sold on the fact that the wholesale absence of large predators here in the UK is not a good thing, despite what it may mean for our ability to return unharmed and unscathed from our hikes. It is something that once experienced will always be missed. Aside from the well-documented ecological and environmental benefits bestowed on an ecosystem by so-called keystone predators (for a general gist of these benefits see the much-lauded video on what happened when they reintroduced wolves to Yellowstone National Park), the presence – perceived or otherwise - of large predators in the landscape through which you are walking is immensely fulfilling. Seeing a bear would be eye-wateringly exciting but there is also an indescribable fulfilment in simply in knowing that you could see one. This theory was borne out on a wild camping trip to the Pyrenees last year. The chances of seeing a brown bear there is, frankly, miniscule (there are about 40 scattered over a landscape that stretches over 430km!) but my enjoyment of our time there was enhanced immeasurably from just knowing that they were out there…somewhere. I struggled when writing this blog post to find an adjective that accurately describes the feeling of being in a predator-present-landscape (to coin a crude phrase!). ‘Exciting’ or ‘enjoyable’ just don’t really cut it. It is much more than that. Walking through these types of landscapes is to unlock a fourth dimension; to awaken a long dormant part of the genome. The cobwebs on that sixth sense, finely tuned over millions of years of evolution to distinguish a shadow from a sabre-toothed tiger, are blown off. The jigsaw that is our experience of the landscape has found its missing piece. This is the natural order of things. '...ecological boredom' Environmental journalist and writer George Monbiot talks in great detail about this in his book, Feral: Rewilding Britain (a book I’d urge anyone with even a passing interest in the environment to read). He explains that there are deep, primal instincts within us all that, for want of a better term, crave exposure to environmental dangers; be it the threat of large predators or the daily need to forage or hunt food – all things that, until very recently, were a major part of the Homo Sapiens experience. Monbiot asserts that modern society has developed a kind of ecological boredom and that, in our subconscious quest to relieve it, we willingly take part in evolutionarily counter-intuitive activities such as contact sport, sky-diving or even mountain climbing! I have found that the mountains indeed have the ability to satiate that primeval desire for ecological excitement. And, whilst there is no threat of large predators in the mountain landscapes of the UK, there is another beast that requires just the same level of hyper-alertness and which stimulates that same dormant survival gene: the weather. For the city dwelling amongst us (myself included), weather plays a minor role in our day-to-day-lives. It might determine what kind of jacket we wear or whether we drink our pint in or outside of the pub, but that’s about it. When you are in the mountains though, the weather jumps to the foremost part of our ape minds. '...anemometers' Walking along Crib Goch you become finely tuned to every single gust of wind. Is it getting stronger or weaker? Is it constant or is it gusting? Is it blowing us off or onto the ridge? Our inner anemometers (Google it!) awaken and suddenly we can estimate every kilometre-per-hour of wind that whips across our faces. Anyone who has walked across the Cairngorm plateau in the winter will be all too aware of how the weather can fill the void of those missing large predators. And much like the effect of large predators in a landscape, the weather in the mountains does not have to be raging for it to be of concern to us or for us to “enjoy” it. It is the threat, the potential of what the weather might do that unlocks that fourth, fulfilling dimension. But, of course, much like the threat of bears, there are things we can do to protect ourselves against the gravest effects of the weather whilst we are in the mountains. We can put on a different jacket, we can take a different route - stay low perhaps, or maybe we might choose to summit a different mountain entirely. All things I'd opt for over having to use bear spray! So, the next time you’re out in the mountains (quite when any of us will be back there who knows?) have a think about what it would be like if there were something bigger, stronger and with much sharper teeth out there. Have a think about the weather and how it affects your psyche as you head up to that summit clagged in opaque mist. After all, the mountain stories that we retell again and again are the ones where the wind was howling and the frost was biting. I wonder why that is?

“I have stopped issuing sugar now, and our meals consist of seal meat and blubber only, with 7 ozs. of dried milk per day for the party," I wrote. "Each man receives a pinch of salt, and the milk is boiled up to make hot drinks for all hands. The diet suits us, since we cannot get much exercise on the floe and the blubber supplies heat. Fried slices of blubber seem to our taste to resemble crisp bacon. It certainly is no hardship to eat it, though persons living under civilized conditions probably would shudder at it." - Ernest Shackleton, Endurance It's 6am on Monday morning. The alarm sounds and you roll over to hit snooze. The duvet gives warmth and the perfectly timed central heating is taking the chill from the still, overnight air. At 6:30am the alarm sounds for the third time and you resolve reluctantly that you must get up or you'll be late for work. You finally switch the alarm off and lay there, waiting for the 'get out of bed' motivation to slap you in the face. The room is warm, but not as warm as your bed. But you have to do it. You must peel yourself out of bed and walk the five metres to the shower. At 6:40am - having mustered the energy you never thought you’d have when that alarm first rudely chimed you from your sleep - you finally get up and step into the hot shower that will cleanse you of any remaining slumber and prepare your body for the day ahead. You get dressed, eat breakfast and sip at your coffee as you sit on the sofa listening to the morning news bulletins, waiting for the caffeine to do its job and to ready you for the next step. At 7:30am you put on your warmest jacket, scarf and hat before leaving the house for the short walk through the cold morning frost to the train station, where you join the ant-like procession to work. The podcast playing through the headphones in your ears provides an escape from the cramped carriages. The office you arrive at is a warm oasis away from the cold winter outside. Everything you need - food, water, tea, coffee and toilet facilities - is just a few steps away from your desk. The elements are just outside these four walls but right now they seem a million miles away. You sit amongst familiar faces and discuss what you did at the weekend whilst clicking through emails. Everything is comfortable. Just 500 miles to the north... High on the Cairngorm plateau a winter storm is in full flow. The sides of the tent are being pressed on to our faces by the unrelenting wind; ice, formed as we slept by our breath freezing on the tent fabric, showers us with every gust. The sleeping bag, it too crusted with ice, is warm inside. It is still pitch black outside, the morning sun is yet to reach its more northerly latitudes. I roll over and unzip the inner door of the tent, pour water in the waiting pot and eagerly light the stove. After a few desperate strikes of lighter flint, the stove ignites with that familiar whumpff, bringing with it an excited anticipation of what's to come: coffee is on it's way! Once it’s boiled, the water is added to the instant coffee granules and I pass a hot cup to each of my grateful tent-mates. We enjoy a brew as we bask in the warmth of our sleeping bags, protected from the weather outside by just the thin canvas of the tent. It may not be a London flat white, but it’s the best coffee we’ve ever tasted. Time to get up. Time to face the elements that have been presented to us. We switch on our head-torches and unzip our sleeping bags - the warmth held in by our overnight cocoons is released in an instant. Shuddering, we dress whilst lying down, as fast as we can, trying to avoid the freezing tent that seems intent on trying to wrap itself around our half-naked bodies. Long-johns, thick socks and long-sleeved base layer first, then Gore Tex over-trousers to give some protection to our legs against the wind and snow that awaits us. We then continue our layering with a fleece, down jacket and hardshell jacket, recreating the heat cocoon that we lost so abruptly when leaving our sleeping bags. An immediate warmth returns to our shivering bodies almost as quickly as it was lost. The next job is to pack away our sleeping bags. Cramped in the tent, sat on our knees and hunched over, we proceed to press our sleeping bags into the stuff sacks we’ve wedged efficiently between our knees. Rucksacks finally packed, we venture out into the dark wilderness. Finally we can stand up, stretching out to squeeze any lingering stiffness from our tired limbs as we lean into the bracing wind. Leaving the bags with the tent, we can now walk a short distance to relieve our bladders of a full night of inactivity. We pack away the tent carefully so as not to allow the wind to carry it into the darkness, before continuing on our journey across the boundless Cairngorm plateau. Step-by-step we make determined tracks, wrapped in our warm, wind-proof clothing, protected from the elements that are trying their best to stop us. Everything is comfortable. Wild camping on the Cairngorm plateau in the middle of winter is a rather extreme pastime and is certainly not for everyone. The message we can take from it, however, can be applied to whatever mountain adventure we choose to undertake. Whether it's a saunter up Snowdon on the tourist track, a summer wild camp in The Lake District, or an expedition to Kilimanjaro or Nepal, it is important to understand that the home comforts we take for granted - water boiled at the press of a button; central heating; comfy sofas; a shower and toilet facilities - are non-existent in the mountains (OK, the cafe on Snowdon might be the only exception to that rule!). This does not mean, however, that any and every mountain trip will be an enduring suffer-fest. Instead, it means that if you appreciate the simple things without those home comforts, you are able to enjoy the environment for what it is: wild, raw, unforgiving. In fact, against that backdrop, the simple things - that morning coffee or the warm hug of your down jacket - become experiences in their own right. Take comfort in the fact that your kit is designed to keep you safe in the worst of conditions. You can be comfortable even in the apparent discomfort of the wild mountain environment. Everything can be comfortable. Just give it a go, have an open mind and enjoy every moment (it will be over before you know it!) #Mountaineering #Wildcamp #Scotland #Mountainweather #Himalaya #Mentalstrength #Winterhiking #uncomfortable #comfortablebeinguncomfortable

“There was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars” - Jack Kerouac, On the Road For those of you that have joined a City Mountaineering trip with me (Stuart), you're likely to have heard my grand plan for City Mountaineering. The ultimate aim has always been to make the UK mountains accessible for all, in an affordable and environmentally friendly way. An individual's demographic alignment should not be a determining factor for visiting our wonderful mountain environment. The current "solo traveller" excursions will continue and there will always be some amazing mountain adventures for anyone to join with City Mountaineering. However, the plan has always been to open up mountain trips to those people who would have never considered the UK mountains as a destination, or maybe could not afford it. There are huge numbers of people in London who work incredibly hard simply just to pay their rent and feed themselves. There are huge numbers of people in London that barely leave the housing estate in which they live, let alone the borough and certainly not London itself. If you've been to the mountains with City Mountaineering, you will understand the benefits - both physical and mental - that getting out of the crowded city and into the mountains, with a small group, provides. For me, it's the biggest factor in keeping me [relatively] sane. So, what is the grand plan? In setting up City Mountaineering, there has always been a vision to enable access to the UK mountains for those less fortunate to do so. This will involve a lot of organisation and working with both the private and public sectors for both funding and access to people. We are getting close! Funding for this enterprise will begin with City Mountaineering and, hopefully, you! - The kind and generous people that join our trips. We will then look at partnering with larger businesses in order to maintain funding to continue the service throughout the year. The Start... We are beginning the fund raising by selling City Mountaineering neck gaiters! With all proceeds being invested wholly in this enterprise. The amounts are small, but it'll hopefully get the process rolling, right? So, who wants to buy a neck gaiter for just £15 and a warm fuzzy feeling, not just for your neck, but in the knowledge that you are helping someone, less fortunate than you, spend a weekend in the wonderful UK mountains? (model pictured: my best mate, Sully) Photos For Sale I am not a professional photographer and all photos I take are now limited to my iPhone. However, I will be selling photo prints from the many mountain adventures I've been over the past 20-years (but only when I deem a photo worthy of printing). Again, with all proceeds going to this enterprise. Have you seen a photo that you particularly like and would like to purchase? Let me know and I'll get the full resolution image to the printers! (for a fee, of course!) Request any photo from today, but stock photos will be on sale from Friday 06 December and communicated via the weekly email and on Facebook How can you help? Other than buying a neck gaiter, or bidding for a photo, of course :) Over the past four years we've had so much fun with people from all walks of London life - people from different backgrounds, countries, professions. Combined, we must have a huge network of contacts! Would your employer (or, do you know of an employer) be interested in partnering with City Mountaineering? We could offer mountain trips for business teams, auction items, talks/presentations in return for investment in this social enterprise. Please get chatting at work, rally interest and get someone to contact City Mountaineering for further information in how we could work together. Also, do you know a photo printer that could offer discounted photo printing for this endeavour? Over the past 4-years I've taken the deliberate approach of staying below the wider-audience radar and simply relied on your word-of-mouth to raise awareness of City Mountaineering. It's now time to spread the word far and wide!! #Mountaineering #Mountainbenefits

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist. That is all” - Oscar Wilde Having finished another amazing season, I am finally taking some rest in The Lake District, to recuperate after an almost continuous string of back-to-back trips from 15 December, until end of March. This has given me time to reflect on the season... A season full of variety, full of logistical and planning challenges, full of fun in the mountains. I was going to write some stuff... But got playing with iMovie instead... And I have a YouTube Channel too! (still don't understand these things though :) ENJOY! Looking forward to Spring and Summer... 12 April - Hike Snowdon, The quiet way 17 May - Scrambling in Snowdonia 21 June - Wild Camping in The Lake District 12 July - Wild Camping in The Cairngorms, Scotland #Winterhiking #Mountaineering #Mountainbenefits #Mountainweather #Torridon

“There are two seasons in Scotland. June and Winter...” - Billy Connolly Hiking in North West Scotland The week can be summarised around delicious food, soggy but stunning hikes, with dramatic weather, breath-taking scenery, and more delicious food and excellent whiskies in cosy pubs. To start, you the reader should know; I am from New Zealand. I grew up with mountains (real mountains) 20 minutes’ drive from home. I have high standards of nature, and I expected very little from the UK when I moved here. My sole experience here was 6 grey days in London in November. I didn’t think you had decent outdoors here. I can happily say, I was ignorant. Mountain Scenes I have been overwhelmingly surprised; the UK has some decent outdoors. It’s not all tame rambles on rolling hills. The main reason I know this, is because of City Mountaineering. When I say I have had a good fix of nature, and that City Mountaineering know how to provide a decent time in the outdoors, this is New Zealand standard, not just a Sunday amble in rolling hills. From when I learned of the trip, I knew going to the North West Highlands was going to be a treat. A soggy treat wrapped in high winds and dramatic weather, but a treat nonetheless. After pick up from Inverness, all the treat dreams came true when we arrived to our cottage for the week on Loch Torridon. This place has views: Not only views, but also an open fire, a fully stocked fridge, and a sun room (for all that Scottish sun). To be honest, it was a little hard to leave that cottage. But leave we did. Pub Hike The first jaunt was simply to get to the pub. It was an ease into hiking hike around the coast, past old ruins, lochs, and bays. It was hard to believe how good this pub/restaurant was, hidden in a tiny village on a bay which seems like the sort of place that has 5 people, 2 dogs and a donkey. This is NW Scotland though, and a place like this was worth walking/driving hours to get to. This is the sort of drama the weather likes to put on: Walking back from the pub via the road Scottish Highlands Surprisingly, this place with its dramatic and sometimes unforgiving weather was home for many, many people, which was cleared over 200 years with what is known as the Highland Clearances, a mix of English oppression, economic disasters, and overpopulation. The Highlands now are one of the least populated areas in Europe. It’s evident. The ruins are everywhere, and its strange to think how one of the most isolated places in Europe use to be teeming with people. But now, this is the perfect escape for Londoners sick of people. There is no one. While the weather decided it wouldn’t behave for the original plans for the next day, Stu decided on a crowd pleaser, the formidable looking Suilven, near Lochinver. Hiking in Assynt The day prior, we first dined on the best pies in Scotland, then walked into a bothy, lit the fire and shared a few yarns over some wine. Me, Lara and Aggi, keeping warm The crowd pleaser, the distinctive looking Suilven: Since Suilven is only a Graham, the next day, Stu took a couple of us to climb some Munros behind the cottage, on the Horns of Alligin circuit. Munro Bagging There is no making the Scottish weather behave though, we saw very little. Not that it stopped me celebrating! That was my first Scottish Munro. I brought whisky for the occasion. You can’t see it, but the wind was ferocious Our last days involved deer spotting, and hiking to Sgurr a’ Chaorachain before another hearty pub feed. Scottish Sun! We had seen very little sun all week, and it was harder for some of us than others. But for this day, Stu promised us sun by late afternoon. We were all dubious of this claim, and even more so when we reached the top of the ridge. We even sat and waited for the sun. We drunk whisky and waited. Waited a little more. We gave Stu a little grief, but he was adamant about this sun… and it came! Eventually! Stu promised us sun. We drunk whisky and waited. And waited. It came! The weather behaved. You know it’s been a decent trip when you want to return, even to the same mountains, and they are now bookmarked in my mind. As always on these trips, there was also good company, delightful conversations, and new friends. If you see this trip pop up next year, you must go. Rock band shot: We will be returning to North West Scotland at Easter (April 2019!) - If you want to join us, check out the trip here #Mountainbenefits #Mountaintraining #Mentalstrength #scrambling #Scotland #Torridon #Assynt

“Mountains, like men, have their history. They too are born, grow old, decay and die. ‘Do they also love?’ A character from Mosca might ask. No, of course they don’t love. But they are loved, and with what love!” - Felice Benuzzi, No Picnic on Mount Kenya Scrambling/Hiking Weekend in Snowdonia This was my second time out with Stuart and a group to Snowdonia and was it fantastic! Though this time it was intense and not “in-tents”. Here’s a picture I took of what happens when three Brits, one Ukrainian, one Australian, and one American get together—a whole bunch of mountain climbing! This trip we scrambled up the mountain Tryfan and Mount Snowdon. We drove out Friday morning and stayed in a bunk-house for the night. Saturday morning we hiked out to face Tryfan. As we started out and starting going up I was worried I was a little out of shape from traveling (all that paella in Spain, ya know?). However, we stopped and took some layers off which made it better and then as we kept going it became more and more scrambling. Scrambling is a mix of hiking and rock climbing. Tryfan had plenty of hand-holds and made hiking easier because you’re so focused on what your doing. It was crazy fun! Once we got to this point, not the peak but close, Tarryn (the woman pictured above) and I looked at each other with our big grins and started talking about how we felt pure joy emanating from us. Scrambling is now on our list of things to do more often! Scrambling makes you look at the mountain like a puzzle and you have to fit every piece together. I was thankful I went outdoor rock climbing with Stuart months before because it helped me attune my mind to see the best path. We got to the top and met a dog that was terrified from its first mountain adventure, took some photos, and ate out sandwiches in the cold and the first snow for the mountain. We hiked down a different path passing a small wall of stones. Once we got back to where we were staying next to the mountain, we drank tea, warmed up, and took showers. Due to us finishing the hike so early we decided to head to a local Welsh pub for drinks and food. We got there a little early for dinner, but enjoyed conversations and good food (after a few hours). Change of plan We decided to switch our plan of scrambling the next day because a woman on the trip had broken her arm a few months ago and didn’t want to put more pressure on it by scrambling again. We decided to hike Snowdon! We woke up early the next day and drove to Snowdon. As we got higher and higher it went from rain, to hail, to snow. The weather was intense with some strong winds at points, but it was very beautiful and not as crowded due to this! We climbed higher and higher jumping over rocks and puddles. The autumnal shifted mountains changed to a white blank slate. This was right before we lost more of our visibility and my photos become mostly all white. We climbed along a ridgeline. I wasn’t raised in snow and therefore don’t feel as comfortable. When we were on the ridgeline at points I had to push through some fear of slipping and kept reminding myself just to keep breathing and climbing. You can either live in fear or love in life—it’s your decision, but I’d say, just climb the goddamn mountain! :) We ate lunch briefly at the top under our emergency shelter (for protection from the snow). We then went up to the tip of the summit and then quickly headed down. We ended at a town in Wales where we drank tea, warmed/dried up with the fire, and met some eccentric Welsh people, while Stuart went to go get our van. We left to head back to London in great time Sunday night. Overall his trip was very different from the last, but very exciting and challenging. I feel as if I not only learn so much about hiking and nature (e.g. Wales used to be taller than the Himalayas a long time ago!), but furthermore I learn so much about myself and what I am capable when I push past my mind. I would seriously suggest going on these trips. A little struggling never hurt anybody. Wait, that’s not true. It hurts a lot, but you’ll never feel more alive! We will be returning to the mighty Tryfan in October! - If you want to join us, check out the trip here #Mountainbenefits #Mountaintraining #Mentalstrength #scrambling

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." - Nelson Mandela The Fear Lots of people have said to me: "You go on lot of adventures, but they are always cold or in the mountains. Would you consider a jungle trek?" My response is always the same: "There are no bugs in cold mountain environments. There are bugs in the jungle. I don't 'do' bugs" This dislike of bugs comes from a very specific fear... A fear that has been with me for many years... Imagine the scene... It's the middle of summer. A very light breeze cools the otherwise hot air [but not too hot!] on a beautiful sunny day in the countryside. We are sat outside a remote pub enjoying lunch with an ice cold lemonade. Suddenly, like an evil ninja dressed in a stupid yellow and black stripy outfit, a wasp decides that he wants to attack! Yes. Attack! All wasps are in attack mode! Regardless of conversation, or what delicious meal I am enjoying. I leap away from the group and run at least 50m from this deadly assassin. If you've seen me around a wasp, you will know that the fear is real. It's not just sweaty palms, but a full panic attack ensues... I have to get away immediately! Nowhere to run... A few years ago I was multi-pitch rock climbing with a friend. I was leading the third pitch, 90m off the ground, and ​​precariously manoeuvring on the tiny holds offered by a vertical lump of rock. My last piece of protection was placed 8m below me and my belayer was 4m below that. I suddenly stopped and started waving my right arm (left arm pinched in a tiny hole in the rock in order to keep me upright and attached to the cliff face). "What the hell are you doing?", said my belayer. "I'm being attacked by wasps!", was my response. "Just leave them and they'll go away!", he said. "No they fucking won't. They are attacking me!", was my panicked retort. "Just put some gear (protection) in [the rock], otherwise you're going to take a pretty big fall!", he insisted. "No fucking way!" - I climbed the rest of that pitch as fast as I could without placing any more protection... Stu 1 Wasps 0 No way around A few years after the climbing assault, I was visiting friends - Richard and Annabelle - in Hong Kong. It was hot and sticky in the city, so we decided to go for a hike in the hills with one of their friends (I can't remember his name, so lets call him James) The hike was stunning. We hiked through woodland, along hill tracks surrounded by lush green vegetation, scrambled crags and walked along ridges, with a backdrop of hilly countryside and sea. As the day came to an end, we descended back to the harbour for food and post-hike refreshment. All went well... Until... Richard and Annabelle were walking about 100m behind me and James when a man appeared as we hiked along a forest track. This man had his top off and was covered in red blotches. He was walking fast and didn't look too happy. He stopped and looked at us with the eyes of a madman. "Are you ok?", we asked. "Beware!", he hushed in a tone akin to a horror movie. "I'm sorry?", we replied. "Beware!", he repeated. "Beware of what?", we nervously asked. "Beware. Zee Bees!". It was at this point my heart rate shot up. Whilst my fear is wasps. What about the aggressive, Asian bees/wasps/hornets I'd heard about? - This was terrifying! James, knowing the area, found out where 'Zee Bees' were from this clearly upset Frenchman. They were hiding in the bushes next to the track. They were waiting. They swarmed the Frenchman as he walked past. "Errrr... They did what?", I asked. "They all fly from the nest and sting me!" he said. "Is there any way to avoid it?", I pleaded. "No. You must use the track", He replied. "So, what do we do?" I nervously said. His response still haunts my thoughts... It gives me chills even here, as I type this blog in the safety of a Peak District pub... His response was plain and simple. He looked at me with wider eyes than I thought was possible and stated in a gruff whisper: "RUN!" Oh my god! What was I going to do!? Brave Stu? I sent James off first (obviously!). I kept my distance behind him, slowly tiptoeing along the track as if the silence could hide our presence and 'Zee Bees' wouldn't notice us! Then BAM! - hundreds of bees(/wasps?) flew from the bush on the left and engulfed James. He shouted and ran. I ran back from where we came. Face-to-face with Richard and Annabelle who had also passed the crazed Frenchman and thought we'd told him to mention 'Zee Bees' as a joke. They saw the fear in my eyes. They knew this was real. They knew this was not a joke. I then did, quite possibly, the bravest thing I think I've ever done... To demonstrate to Richard and Annabelle where they needed to 'RUN!' and for them to see, first-hand, what happens - I took to the death track and ran! Head down, like a charging bull, I ran as fast as I could. I ran past the nest. The bees(/wasps?) attacked. I felt them fly in to me as I passed. Richard and Annabelle saw the ferocity of this swarm. But no stings. Win! Stu 2 Wasps 0 The fear is real For those of you that may have climbed at Stone Farm Rock (East Sussex) with me, there is something that you don't know. There is one route that I have never, and will never, set a rope. And the reason? Wasps regularly nest in the tree above it. This route is off limits ad infinitum. And why do I have this fear? Rational or Irrational? I don't care. The fear is real... When I was 11-years old, I was readying myself for P.E. at school. I had my shorts and T-shirt on and just needed to put on my plimsols for an afternoon of running around a field like a lunatic. I sat on the rug in the corner of the classroom so not to fall over when doning my fake Dunlop Greenflash. I sat on 2 wasps. I was stung 5 times on my bum. I SCREAMED! Stu 2 Wasps 5 #summer #Mentalstrength #hongkong #bees #wasps #fear

“We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us.” - John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra Wild Camping in Snowdonia Coming from California to London, I was worried I’d be surrounded with skyscrapers and concrete for miles. I can’t imagine how wrong I was, with wild “ponies” (a.k.a unicorns), 30-50 mph winds, mountains that names sound like dragons, to running through the rain at the top of mountains feeling more alive than ever. To understand City Mountaineering and its trips, it’s important to talk about its founder and qualified Mountain Leader, Stuart Shipp. Truly, Stuart’s main goal is to get people from the city to experience nature and the mountains.  From changing his career in finance to a mountaineer, it is evident that his goal is to share his love of nature with others. Wild, Wild Camping The weekend wild camping in Snowdonia was a crazy adventure full of adventure and fun! We left Friday night and drove through London traffic to our destination. We hiked out to a little spot to camp. We hiked out to the Carneddau range and camped next to the Lyyn Elgiau Reservoir. The winds were crazy as we set up our tents in the middle of the night. If anyone’s ever set up a tent in the wind you know it takes a few people to get it done! We set up three tents, two per person. Not soon after getting in, my tent poles snap in the fierce wind. We had to promptly pack it up and make it three people per tent. I knew we were in for an adventure and the idea of “wild” camping would come true. We hiked out after oatmeal and coffee (lots of coffee!) and passed many sheep bundled up from the wind. Mythical Lands... The land was so green and lush and yet with the autumnal shift started to brown. We usually only think of leaves changing and yet to see the mountains change reminded me that we all shift with the darkening of days. As we climbed higher and higher the winds pushed us around making us appear drunk, though lacking in the slurring words. We passed an old plane crash and headed to our goal to the summit of Foel Grach. When we arrived at the top there was an emergency Bothy that looked like the entrance to Narnia with even stronger winds than before. We decided to hike down and just in time because out of nowhere rains started pouring down. We had to run down, but right before that we saw magical wild mountain ponies. I could not believe how close we got to them and I’m still very confident that they were actually unicorns! Though I couldn’t see their horns… (Sadly!) We stayed the evening taking shelter in a bothy, over-filled with people due to the rain. It was very cram-packed, but we met people of all ages from teenagers to fifties. It was incredible to see people no matter their age out enjoying nature. We started a fire, ate dinner, and all talked as we dried our very wet clothes before camping outside. Mixed Weather We hiked out the next morning, with views of rainbows, making us question where the pot of gold was, but I think we knew the landscape was richer than gold. The next spot we hiked was the mountain Y Garn. As we climbed higher and higher, the view went from pure, glorious sunshine to a darkening gray. As we go to the top, clouds surrounded us and it started raining. What joyous release from the sky of the building tension as if it knew we were coming. We began to run to the very top with the rain pouring down, but it made me feel more alive than I’ve felt in awhile. The rain, like a shower, awakened us to the pure beauty of the world around us. As we climbed down on the other side of the mountain it began to hail and I laughed thinking from wind, hail, rain, and sun, Wales knows how to show you “wild”. We descended and crossed over a river on our way back down to drive back to London. Overall, this trip was fantastic! Weather wise it was a little intense, but I liked the trip so much I’m going on as many trips as I can! From Stuart Sadly (for us, at least) Zoe is back enjoying the wilderness in California now... We miss you Zoe! Want to join us on a wild camping weekend? (I can't guarantee the same wild conditions that Zoe experienced, but every trip is unique in its own way!) Coming up: - Wild Camping weekend in Brecon Beacons (Nathan - 31 Aug) - Wild Camping weekend in Snowdonia (Dave - 07 Sept) - Wild Camping long-weekend in The Cairngorms (Stu - 06 Oct) #Mountainbenefits #Winterhiking #Whiteout #Mountaintraining #Mentalstrength