Wednesday 21 December 2011

Every Picture tells a story number 6: Happy Christmas!

6am, and I languidly rise from my lightly, dream dusted slumber...

Kicking the bedpost, an act of habit never learned from, despite the pain of yet another stubbed toe, I raggedly dress in the dark so as not to wake the rest of the household.

I have never been able to sleep in on Christmas morning, as a young lad so exited to see what Santa has brought or a flaky student staying up at some digs until being kicked out in the early hours.

These days it’s more of a hope that the snow has come and with it a fantastic sunrise may occur…

Christmas 2010 and the westerly winds had blown in fat, white flakes of snow covering the peak district eastern edges, blanketing the crest of harsh grey/black gritstone edges and the knarred trees that grow out from the frozen earth.

The smell of winter filled my senses in the dull light as I made my way, with skin shuddering in the razored wind to the aptly named Windy Corner at Stoke near Grindleford.

Altogether it made a perfect setting for the white cold moon hovering in the dark sky, which made way for the yolky sunlight to appear and illuminate the land over Curbar Edge.

The magnificent grit edges of Froggatt and Baslow peeked out from the top of the cold mist, which rose from the streams and rivers like some large primordial phantom of romance. The church bells in Calver began to peel and the twinkling lights of the local villages appeared in the valley as people were waking up to their Christmas presence.

A fellow early riser appeared from Jacobs ladder from Stoney Middleton, on a lone walk towards Eyam and we nodded and gave our Christmas morning greeting.

The sun was being lazy, disinterested and troublesome, however I managed a capture of the buttercup-hued skyline with the breathtakingly Christmassy scene scape.

The biting wind on my face and licking cracked lips, with the picture in the can, meant I decided to start back down the icy road to Mum’s house then Dad’s for the rest of the Christmas day, safe in knowledge that I had spent time being that early rising as a giddy, excited kid again…

…Happy Christmas all! Si x

Monday 12 December 2011

Every Picture Tells a Story - 5 – Locomotion...

Advent(urous) Train spotting…

December 1^st and I was presented with a gift from a work colleague. She had rather gracefully bought advent calendars for the whole office; you know the ones with the god awful, sickly cheap chocolate in them.

Not that I’m an ingrate or anything, I just dislike chocolate of any kind and I’m not Eight years old anymore. The cover of said calendar being Thomas the Tank Engine.

Adopting the office “Advent Calendar policy” this now sits on my desk, with the annoyingly cheery tanker, smugly gawking at me with his fat silvery, boat race.

Peering at this visage, my mind wandered to question if he used to have eyebrows…as I spoke to Sue in the Gamma Knife Stereotactic Radiotherapy Department about government NHS financial budgets. She may have known, but I neglected to enquire.

It does, however remind me of a time when I was a train spotter (shush)... and I was taken all round the country by my dad just to write numbers in a book. Nay, not just a casual note in a jotter, it required this young lads courage to ask the driver to “cab” a loco.

Standing in the cab of a train we often asked “what that stick did” or “have you ever drove a steam engine” or so such intelligent curios.

The infamous number 50007 (pictured) was named Sir Edward Elgar – him of Land of Hope and Glory Fame, and if you sought out that particular locomotive, you had struck gold (or green as was the engines livery).

However one great memories of the time was the late, great Willie Rushton, him of fame for That was the week that was, reading the Thomas the Tank Engine stories. I remember Johnny Morris from Animal magic doing the same job. Legends both.

They spoke in such a way that as a young child, you would listen transfixed, chewing on every word and savouring the taste long after the record finished. The scratchy quality of the 33-rpm discs just added to the experience and the real life exploration of the railways became a joyous blurred journey of fiction, reality and fantasy.

It’s questionable that any of us grow up, especially boys/men. Steam trains still hold a special place in my heart, so it’s maybe a trifle harsh that I overly grumble about a small blue tank engine evading my space for 25 days…

…In fact, I think after all the chocolate has been scoffed by the office girls, moreover… I shall indeed miss Thomas the Tanker…

Sunday 11 December 2011

Every Picture Tells a Story - 4 – Carhead Rocks…

Carhead Rocks…

Where? you may ask. Not far from the most famous gritstone crag in the world… not far at all really - a spitting distance o-ert the road and you are at the crag that the Peak forgot (or tried to)

These are only really included as some of the only pictures that I have every taken with a broken scaifoid (left wrist thankfully).

We had sought out the rocks using the Allen Williams 1994 Green Peak Bouldering Guide (Ominous it being green) and after years of wondering what the rocks were like. I managed just the one problem before taking a rather po-faced tumble on the green shitty mank of the tundra heather and slime fested rocks.

“Pop” went the bone in my wrist.

“Ouch” I said before spouting a monologue of unrefined rough-cut expletives, for some time I have to admit… (Although I managed to take some canny pictures and carry the beers from the bar – what a hero!)

Still I had the fracture clinic to look forward to and following that the plaster room. I got a rookie and so with a heavy heart, I ditched the blue and white striped number of that there Sheffield Wednesday in favour of a plain green cast. She couldn’t nouse that up surely?

3 attempts later and I had a wonky misshaped green-esque cast in honour of Allen’s guide and the slime that had caused my affliction.

Carhead was born never to be loved, skulking, lurking and squatting in the shadow of the queen of Grit and like a jealous sibling, decided to exact revenge for years of abstinence.

Stanage has always looked after me; we took a while to get to know each other admittedly, but then they all know Froggatt is my lady of choice, in more ways than one.

Does Carhead deserve a second chance? I walked within safe distance the other week, nervously eyeing the squat gritty edgy lumps. They looked as though they wished a casual roaming stroller approach without prejudice…

…I might have been suckered in lest I had seen this dubious looking profile, a mocking rock 'face' cut out laughing at my plight…one climb? “that’s all punter?”

My retort?

…aye but that problem were pretty bloody shit any how…

Sunday 4 December 2011

Every Picture Tells A Story 3 – Theo and I go To Cleethorpes…

Sometimes there is no need for an in-depth description or detailed hyperbole when it comes to capturing a moment in time.

Why spend time waxing lyrical, extracting every nuance and extrapolating the very thing you are trying to showcase via words when the bloody picture tells you what it is?

Why debate the minutiae of a photograph, when it clearly states “dog on a beach”

Theo and I went to Cleethorpes one day & we had a nice time, we recommend it. Theo looks happy and the sands are lush. His ears went a bit funny in this picture, but then he was on holiday...

Every Picture Tells a Story 2 - The Elusive Waterfall…

Many years ago as a young boy, I’d heard of a hidden waterfall, which was one of the highest in the Peak District. My Father knew of its whereabouts, yet cryptically stated, “it’s round abouts”.

A typical Derbyshire way of saying “I’m not telling you".Which to an adventurous young lad was torture and I vowed I would go to the ends of the earth (well within cycling distance at least) to discover their whereabouts.

After many years of mooching around the hills and dales, I was resigned never to find the fabled, secreted falls and pretty much gave up the ghost.

Sure we found plenty of other hidden waterfalls such as Brookside falls at Froggatt, Paddley Gorge falls, and the charming off shoots from Mag Clough.

Then many years later, the day came when a few like-minded photographers met in a kitchen thumbing through a black and white local photobook. Suddenly - there they were! I can’t tell you their name of course, as they are secret, but sure enough in glorious monochrome, the elusive falls had been discovered.

The location was baffling, as I had passed the area many times, yet one would never think to find a waterfall in the trees that hid their secret so well.

The light was a challenge and we all agreed that the day had been a success in parts, yet we could not shoot the waterfall in its entirety due to the contrasting nature of extreme light/shadow (see left). Still, a few frames were usable and I decided I would get my own back on my father.

As he tore the Christmas wrapping paper from the black and white frame to reveal the picture you see before you (above), fathers’ eyes bulged and with a wry smile I simply said, “told you I’d find them”…

Saturday 3 December 2011

Every picture tells a story…

Number 1 – Livvy White – Owler Tor

Every picture tells a story……so went the album title of Rod Stewart's 1973 album of the same name album title. Which had a load of great songs on it rather than pictures, but as one of these included Maggie May (the song not the picture – if there is one), I’ll let Rodders off…

A beautiful spot for walking, climbing and bouldering, Owler Tor, holds a special place in our hearts for some great times. The shot was taken on a raw January day, a year following a special bouldering trip on Christmas day when two bachelors were missing a family and decided to climb on the hill above Hathersage while the church bells peeled…

Her father, Phil and I bouldered out some of the best problems in the Peak before a shock phone call to say that some friends had been robbed all their presents on Xmas Eve.

Pure joy turned to sadness and a pensive way forward… Olivia has a per ma smile on her boat race these days – how poignant and beautiful she could be when younger on the hills…the sadness and joy of the day encompassed in her eyes alone… Her hat was an inspiration and I have one despite the jolly japes - after all - they keep your head warm!

Enjoying the crisp, still and even grit, dad Phil's his boots on a lovely Owler arête.

Management of The Roaches Estate decided...

The all-important decision over the future of the Roaches has been made, with the announcement that Staffordshire Wildlife Trust will take on a 125 year lease of the estate.

The Roaches, an iconic climbing crag and beauty spot near Leek in Staffordshire, is one of the estates being "disposed of" as part of a wider asset review by the Peak District National Park Authority (PDNPA) due to budgetary pressures.

The Roaches Estate comprises a long thin strip of land with a variety of habitats from open moorland to plantation forest, incorporating a number of important crags such as Hen Cloud, The Roaches, The Five Clouds, The Roaches Skyline and Back Forest.

The Park Authority considered proposals from Staffordshire Wildlife Trust, The National Trust and The Land Trust before deciding to entrust Staffordshire Wildlife Trust with the estate's future management.

The BMC’s preferred option was The National Trust due to its experience in land management, dealing with moorland fires and management of visitors to popular areas such as the Roaches. However, the BMC is committed to working with the Staffordshire Wildlife Trust to ensure climbers and walkers interests are maintained and that the Roaches remains well managed for both wildlife and people.

The BMC leases Rockhall Cottage from the PDNPA and so has a direct interest in the future management of the estate separate to the climbing and walking.

It follows the National Trust and RSPB coming together to form the Eastern Moors Partnership to manage the Eastern Moors estate (including crags such as Froggatt and Curbar) last year, and precedes the next major estate of interest to walkers and climbers – North Lees, which includes Stanage.

This ‘asset disposal’ is a result of the PDNPA, along with many other National Parks and public bodies, having to make budget cuts. Historically the PDNPA has owned considerably more land than other National Park Authorities and as part of its cost saving review, a number of areas of its land were identified to be disposed of, through sale or lease to other organisations or individuals.

Following a yearlong process of consultation and putting the estate up for tender, the PDNPA’s Audit, Resources & Planning Committee met on the 25^th November 2011 to decide which bid should be chosen to manage the site. Out of the three bids from the Land Trust, National Trust and Staffordshire Wildlife Trust (SWT), the SWT bid was chosen to take on management of the estate through a 125 year lease.

Local BMC access reps and keen local climbers Andi Turner, Henry Folkard, Adam Long and Neil Foster along with BMC Access & Conservation Officer Rob Dyer attended the public part of the meeting, with Andi and Henry each giving three minute speeches on the importance of the estate for climbers and walkers.