A crazy day out at the Thames Pageant

An EFOG day out in London to see the Queen's Jubilee flotilla on the Thames - with over a million others!  It's the sort of thing us EFOGgers take in our stride!!  Well, we are an Outdoor Group, and it was all outdoors - in the rain!  We met at Stratford Station - 10 brave souls!  We were originally going to Hammersmith to see the boats lining up for the procession, but the royal party was not joining it until Battersea, so we would not have seen them.  Ten Group members brave the rain and crowds for the Thames PageantChange of plan - we thought we would try the Embankment to see how crowded it was, so we could see the flotilla actually going past, complete with the Queen!  When we arrived, it wasn't too bad.  Seven of us decided to wait it out - after all, it was only light drizzle, and we only had 4 or 5 hours to wait!  Three others decided to go to the National Art Gallery.  I sat on some steps, and made friends with a couple of families with children over the course of the wait (and an 87 year-old lady).  One boy was playing games on some gadget or other!  They are so realistic now, but I hadn't a clue what he was doing!  There were big screens up, and if I stood up and peered round a tree and a lamp-post, I could see bits of film of the Royal Family in their younger days.  Then the flotilla started off, and the screens went to film of the procession.  That's when a large man in a huge blue cape decided to stand in front of me to watch it!!  I managed to see bits round him!  No sign of Gill (Light), Ken or Julie returning - apparently they were stopping people going through by the time they tried to get back to us!
 
Then the flotilla came into view.  I was standing on the steps, so I could see most of it.  Somehow, Fozi had managed to get to the front!  Boats, boats, and more boats!!  A thousand of them.  The sea-cadets flying Commonwealth flagsThe small rowing boats were first.  The rain had thankfully eased off for a while.  The royal barge appeared - the "Spirit of Chartwell" - beautifully decorated in red, gold and thousands of flowers.  There was the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh, with the rest of the royal family standing behind them.  Flags were being waved everywhere.  More boats followed, but unfortunately the rain started to fall quite heavily by then.  We went into the road to see the royal barge go through the open Tower Bridge on the large screen, and decided to leave as we were all soaked by that time.  Jill V. left us at that point, and as everywhere was so crowded with people, we decided to walk to Tottenham Court Road Station (after all, we are a walking group!).  There were only 6 of us by then, but with all the people, it was difficult keeping an eye to make sure no-one lost us.  I was just grateful there weren't 20 of us!!  I made sure we didn't lose Sharon - a new member who had only been to the Group once.  It doesn't look good if you lose a new member on their first outing with us!!  The new royal barge "Gloriana"En route we found a small cafe which was not full!!  Tea, coffee and cakes - lovely (and in the warm and dry!).  However, we couldn't stay there forever!  Gill (Light) was supposed to be taking us to West India Docks when the procession had finished, to see the boat she helps with.  Where was Gill?  We hadn't seen her since the 3 of them disappeared in the morning, and we had missed 'phone calls to each other.  Eventually we made contact, and arranged to meet her at South Quay station (she was in Piccadilly by that time).  When she arrived, she didn't know where the boat was being moored, so she rang someone to find out.  They were stuck in a boat-jam!!  It was going to be 2 hours before they got there!  We abandoned that idea, went to Canary Wharf, and had a meal in "All Bar One", which made a nice finish to the day.
 
It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I am so glad we went - despite the weather!
 

Maz, 4th June 2012

A more comfortable view of proceedings from another EFOG member

The thought of braving public transport into and out of London on such a day was enough to deter me from joining the other members of the Group hoping to experience the Thames pageant. I had an idea: my sister has an apartment overlooking the Thames at Battersea, and maybe she wouldn't be using it.

Phillip pointing out that we are trying to take a pictureI quickly found that she would be, and indeed friends from the far east (Lowestoft) would be staying overnight from the day before - so that precluded any chance of me sleeping there. Nevertheless, she duly invited me to come on the day. She had to, really, because she'd also invited every other member of the immediate family - my niece, nephew and assorted great nieces and nephews and their respective mum and dad.

The journey - which involved complex public transport avoidant and bridge-closure planning - necessitated getting up at 5am and driving through some unsavoury parts of south London. Anyway - I arrived as planned at 8am, and as the others arrived we began the anticipation for all that was going on. Wearing appropriate face-masks, the children and I (whose mask had particularly prominent ears) managed to get a wave from the BBC cameraman on his platform above Battersea Church. I aimed my camera at him, but he didn't reciprocate. Later, though, the camera on the Chelsea bank had a TV shot of our apartment, so we got on TV. Our waves didn't show up well, though.

A nice close-up of some family peopleWell, we watched some Royal people get out of their taxis and make their way to a launch moored at Chelsea Pier. This was just opposite us, so we saw Charles and Camilla and then Elizabeth and Phillip board and then wave to us as they went past. Shortly afterwards the for-rowers of the flotilla appeared and shortly after that the rain started and was followed by nearly two hours-worth of various craft. It was quite nice to be able to watch on the television what was about to pass us and then to go outside to watch from our 6th-floor patio, or alternatively, to watch from the patio and then view on the television what we had just seen. Much of this was accompanied by food and drink, so that was alright.

The Cornish lugger 'Barnabas'My thoughts did turn to the other members of the Group, wherever they may have been (I envisaged them upstream, but they were in fact a bit downstream so experienced everything a bit later that we did), and I did feel a bit sorry for them and all the others in the rain. I managed to pick out the boat Gill works on (Red Watch), but for me the little steam tug Barking, the St. Ives lugger Barnabas - proudly flying an outsize Cornish Flag - and the Shree Muktajeevan Pipe Band & Dhol Ensemble playing as they went past were particularly memorable. The barge carrying the London Philharmonic Orchestra - which was the last in the procession - had been moored just below us for much of the time, so we were treated to some excellent live music even before the procession came.

It would have been nice to have been with other EFOG members, and I'm sure that as usual they had a grand time, but I feel that I may have had a slightly more comfortable day. What a grand day everyone had!

Paul Ferris, 5th June 2012

A desperate attempt to keep my feet dry in the Peak District.

It was 7th April, 2012. Following a 5 mile walk around the Chatsworth Estate the day before, my walking boots were rubbing my ankle badly. For Saturday's walk in the Peak District I decided to wear my only other pair of shoes – my beloved Nike trainers.

It had snowed the day before in the mountains, but that was no problem 'cos I had just sprayed my trainers with a good waterproof spray and covered my socks with plastic bags. I was going to have lovely dry feet during our Peak District walk.

The walk - led by Duncan - was to be 10 miles long, via Snake Inn, Seal Stones, Seal Edge, Fairbrook Naze, Black Ashop Edge, Ashop Head and back via Snake Path to Snake Inn. We met everyone in the Birchin Clough Car Park on the A57, just past Snake Inn.

Crossing the road from the car park, we walked into the woods. I ran enthusiastically down my first hill, but the hill was steeper than I thought and my feet left the ground. I practised my superwoman dive - which must have looked impressive from behind - and landed face down on the grass at the bottom of the hill. From behind I heard smothered giggles, and a courteous, “Are you all right Gill?” My feet were still dry.

A few minutes later, we reached a raging river. Duncan walked straight across as if he was Jesus parting the waves, and beckoned for us to follow. Jill and I looked at each other, took off our shoes and socks, threw them across the river to the other side, and waded in barefooted. However carefully I placed my feet on the rocks I still slipped, but reached the safe arm of Duncan. With a sigh of relief, I wiped my feet, put my socks and trainers back on, and continued up the mountain. My feet were still dry.

The Group on the PeakWorryingly, the soles of my trainers gave me little grip in the snow and mud, and I knew that I would have a 10 mile struggle. Carefully trying to avoid the rocks and sludge, I soldiered on up my first mountain. The fact that I had the wrong shoes on plus no experience of mountain walking was the least of my worries. My feet were still dry.

I reached the summit at 2000ft and felt quite pleased with myself. Okay - I was last the one to reach the top - but my feet were still dry.

The recent snow had partly melted and was deceiving. Suddenly, I trod on a layer of snow, my right leg disappeared into the sludge and I was stuck standing on one leg. The mud sucked my shoe and sock downwards and when I pulled my foot out of the mud there was no trainer and no sock attached to it. To stop myself from falling I put my left foot into the next bit of snow. Standing there like a stork on one foot, I forgot which hole my trainer had disappeared into. Lynne came to my rescue: using a grass stick, she dug deep into several snow and mud holes and after several attempts she found my trainer. Walking ten miles on one leg was not my idea of a good time.

But the worse of it was that my right foot was now soaking wet; only my left foot was still dry.

On the way down the ridge we encountered streaming water. In my desperate attempt to keep my left foot dry, I balanced on my right foot and supported myself by placing my left hand on the nearest rock. My hand landed on something very nasty! From the sheer shock of it, I lost balance and fell with both feet into a huge puddle of water!

MY ATTEMPT TO KEEP MY FEET DRY UNTIL THE END WAS A FAILURE!

Gill Light, April 2012

Mam Tor Saturday

Having reviewed Duncan's projected Saturday walk in the Peak District, I considered that the distance, terrain – and indeed the weather conditions (there had been considerable snow-fall days earlier) – added up to the likelihood of a walk that I might be able to manage – but with difficulty!

I opted instead to go on a 5-or-so mile walk that Ann had looked up, taking in Mam Tor. On setting out from Losehill Hall Youth Hostel, the weather was perfectly fine for walking – not quite summer but surely up to a Peak District Spring? It was an easy stroll through Castleton – pausing for some to pick up provisions – for the five of us that set out, and through a narrow lytchett onto fields and across stiles through sheep-farming country, wending gradually upwards towards the highest peak in the immediate district – Mam Tor.

Mam Tor is known as the Shivering Mountain, and we were to find out why a little later. Suffice it to say, it is really nothing to do with the cold. The name Mam Tor can be re-interpreted as Mother(s) Hill: mam as in mammary or breast-shaped. This is common moniker for certain shaped hills throughout the world. The Paps of Jura are good examples! One wonders if the Bronze Age settlement that crowns the summit was placed there for some reason associated with this – or perhaps it was just a nice place to live with a good view? Certainly any Bronze Age dwellers would have had quite a trek down from their penthouse to catch the bus to work each day.

We left the footpaths through a lovely little wooded area, complete, of course, with a busy stream supplemented by melt-water. Here was Odin's Mine – thought to be the oldest mine in Britain, and adjacent to it was the road up from Castleton. The walk-sheet suggested we stick to the road, which we did, although vehicles were prohibited from going any further. After five minutes or so of realising just how much difficulty a car would have negotiating a very uneven road-surface, we reached a gated fence across the road. The surface appeared rougher still beyond, although from where we were standing we could see a steady stream of people already ascending and descending the edge of the mountain to the summit. The apparent steepness of the ascent seemed to throw the rest of our small party, and a decision was made to turn back! I was a bit dismayed, for although steep, there was no indication that it was difficult!

View from Mam TorI elected to go on myself – albeit feeling a bit let down – and started through the gate. Almost immediately the real effects of the land-slip that had closed this once busy pass became apparent, The road surface was corrugated and buckled and in some places had dropped many feet, or slipped off the edge altogether. Easy enough, however, to walk and even possibly to bike - but not to motor! The road regained its integrity in just a few hundred yards, and cars were parked alongside it enabling visits to the Blue John Mine or onto Mam Tor.

The way up was steep, but in places was even paved and stepped, so apart from sludging through a bit of snow was easy enough. From the top there is a 360 degree view and the conditions were clear enough to enjoy it. A paved track continued eastwards from the summit towards Hollins Cross, with the continuing stream of dogs and their walkers - many carrying huge rucksacks full of children - coming and going. At Hollins Cross a great network of paths converge, for this was a pass for people travelling to work in Edale from Castleton and the Hope Valley – daily! Those people must've had sure-grip feet, for I was very trepidatious making my way down a mix of paved, bouldered, streamed, muddied and gullied hill-side towards Castleton.

Eventually exiting onto a tarmacked farm track, the way to the hostel was relatively short. In fact because a convenient track led to the rear of the hostel, it should have saved the normal access to Losehill Hall which from the main road consists of a third-of-a-mile drive. I could see people in the hostel's car park, hear them chattering and could have shaken hands with them if I'd been inclined – but there was no way in! So – a long walk down the track to the side of the hostel grounds, a few yards along the road, then up the drive to the hostel! It added to the mileage, though - which overall was about 5.5 miles.

I certainly got back before the main group, and was fascinated by their stories of mini-disaster, loss of leader, loss of boots and flights of fancy. I noted that some did not opt to do a walk the following day, and considered that although I ended up walking alone, I had made a sensible choice.

Some thoughts on the weekend's walks

Perhaps we ought to consider people's abilities a bit more when proposing or starting out on a walk. From the feedback that I heard on the main group's experiences, it seemed to me that a number of people had taken on a task that was a bit beyond their capabilities. Either they'd not known what to expect, or perhaps they were a bit out of practice. We'd passed snow drifts whilst driving up to Castleton, and it was quite clear that there was still some accumulation of snow on the higher hills. The fact that the walk started from the Snake Pass - one of the more notorious bad-weather passes in the country - consisted of considerable stretches of high ground (say, 1500ft) and that the snow was melting thus obviously making the going in places wetter, perhaps should have sounded a warning. It is the responsibility of individuals to assess their own capabilities, and of walk-leaders to try to make it clear what the undertaking might be. This may not be so important on low-level walks in the summer, but mountain walks even in Spring are a different matter.

Even the walk the following day was a bit indeterminate. I'd been asked to co-lead it, and from my previous day's experience had a good idea what to expect. However, the walk was presented as "a mystery walk", which on reflection is perhaps a bit too trivial under the circumstances. As it turned out, the 5.5 mile walk on Sunday (from Castleton via Hollins Cross, Back Tor and Lose Hill to Hope village) was undertaken by fairly competent walkers, and was quite easy (even for me!)

Paul Ferris, 10^th April 2012

Benfleet, Leigh-on-Sea and Southend - 17th March 2012

In the middle of March, where are you most likely to find the Efoggers out walking?  At the seaside!  We had been to the Essex coast with Ken the week before and decided we liked it so much we would go again, this time on a linear jaunt from Benfleet along the downs via Hadleigh Castle to the historic old fishing town of Leigh on Sea, and then along the coast to Southend.  Unfortunately the weather wasn't quite as kind to Dolores, our leader for the day, as it was to Ken the previous week, but the rain held off, and what's a chilly wind to an Outdoor Group?!

The group at Hadleigh CastleAfter massing at Benfleet station we set off briskly up the hill, turning right into the fields above the estuary to follow the path along the Benfllet and Hadleigh Downs.  Misty views of Canvey Island and the shipping allowed us to indulge in a game of 'which house would you like to live in', between clambering over stiles and waiting in lines to do so, as the path seemed popular with more than our group on the day.  The ruins of Hadleigh Castle made an excellent view point (and was not on the top ten list of houses we would like to have) as the clouds lifted slightly on the way into Old Leigh.

The fact that Leigh-on-Sea is still famous for its locally caught seafood was not wasted on some members of the party.  The cockle sheds and Osborne's famous emporium proved a distraction, enough that lunch was strung out along the main cobbled street.  An obliging chip shop allowed us to use their outside benches for lunch in spite of minimal purchases of chips, and maximum purchases of hot tea!  After lunch, some of the group walked on through Westcliff to Southend itself, while those with other plans for the evening were able to break away early at the various stations en route.

The fun fair in Southend provided some last minute amusement - watching the riders screaming rather than joining in though - we Efoggers prefer to keep our feet on the ground! We did contemplate walking the pier, but decided we'd leave that for another time.

The total length of the walk for those that completed it from Benfleet Station to Southend Central Station was 7.5 miles

Sue U. March 2012