Category: Trekking

Trekking in the Atlas mountains

20th June 201721st June 2017 admin Atlas mountains Leave a comment

I’d been to Morocco twice before which is unusual, as I normally want to see new places and don’t go back.

However, this place is an enchanting adventure paradise, and for some reason I’d never been trekking in the Atlas mountains.

We found a well recommended trekking company Aztat Treks, booked some flights, “base” accomodation in Marrakesh and off we went.

Our flight arrived late at night, so we had a transfer booked to our Marrakesh accommodation.

A quick meal, shower and then off to bed…

In the morning, I had images of things being a bit of a faf and organisation being a problem, but I shouldn’t have worried.

Just as we were finishing off our breakfast, we were told that our driver was waiting to take us to Agersioual where we would begin our trek.

The journey took about 90 minutes and I was amazed at the new roads and new cars (which even had seatbelts and air conditioning that didn’t consist entirely of an open window).

Morocco had clearly upped its game since the last time I was here in 2008.

We arrive and meet Mohammed Aztat, the owner of the company. He shows us on the map where we’ll be going.

We’re introduced to our personal guide Mohammed and our cook/muleteer (mule driver) Ibrahim.

Our first day will be an acclimatisation trek in the Ouirgane National Park.

Our main bags are loaded onto the Mule along with all the cooking equipment, water and food well need for the next 4 days.

The Mule and driver take off up the hill and leave us behind. We get chatting to our Mohammed and he tells us a bit about himself and the area’s were going to be visiting.

Our first look at this beautiful land.

The terrain here is quite gentle (as you’d expect on an acclimatisation day) and the whole area is coated with copper green soil and juniper trees.

The temperature is hot, but not unbearable (although a hat and sunglasses are essential).

As it reaches lunchtime, our guide leads us to a spot with several tree’s for shade.

We’re delighted to find our cook has set everything up, and we have a glass of mint tea, then were presented with a delicious Tajine (its restaurant quality food, the only problem is there’s enough food for 6 people).

Mint tea is the traditional drink of the Berber mountain tribe. As a joke its nicknamed Berber whisky (the joke is, that they are Muslims and don’t drink any kind of alcohol).

Our guide explains that were going to take it easy today. As there’s no hurry, we sit on our rug, under the tree and relax for the next 90 minutes.

Our hardy mule is unloaded and left to wander in the valley and stock up on grass.

We asked later if the mule had a name, but they said it wasn’t normal to give them names, although their company has very strict rules on their treatment.

Its about 4:30pm.

We reach the top of the pass and bellow, the Berber village of Tizian where we’ll be staying for the night.

You’ll notice from this picture, Mohammed always keeps his head covered.

It’s easy to get massively sunburned here, and not even notice it (until it starts to hurt).

We wander up through the village and arrive at the refuge where we’ll be staying.

Once inside, the seating area is of traditional Berber style.

There are several bedrooms in the gite, with light mattresses on the floor. As there are only a few people staying, Nikki and I get a room to ourselves.

The toilet and shower are functional although they could benefit from a qualified plumber (or perhaps just someone with a modern set of tools).

With the days walking complete we rest on the terrace and have some more mint tea (I wouldn’t have minded a pint of lager, but there would be none for the next 5 days).

From the terrace, we could see the construction of the new Mosque, which the local villagers are very proud off.

Unfortunately, the scaffolding outside made of old wood, wouldn’t pass a health and safety inspection in the UK.

Next day, were up early, breakfasted, cleaned up and off we go.

We’ll be trekking up the Azzeden Valley.

The area opens up into a wide expanse of lush walnut groves.

After about 3 hours, we change direction and trek horizontally across the mountains on these rocky trails.

On the way we found a small “shop” where an enterprising teenager is selling bottles of Coca Cola for about 40p.

Further up the trail, we meet another mule and driver coming towards us. I’ve realised that mules are the main means of transport in the mountains.

Normally used to carry gear and food (and occasionally, a weary trekker home, when they’ve bitten off more than they can chew and can’t walk any further!).

When I saw a bicycle being carried, it seemed to me to be a bit like cheating.

If you want to ride it down, you should be prepared to ride it up 🙂

We stop to photograph one of the Ighouliden waterfalls.

Our home for the night, the Lippeney hut.

A bit nicer than our previous refuge, and had a basement sitting area that was very cool in the hot afternoon.

Something I’d not seen before, a sort of “double” bunk bed.

Once again, we had our own room, which was pretty fab.

Our 3rd day is much harder as we’ll ascend 1400 metres.

We climb up really steep scree and leave the Azzaden valley behind us.

Were heading towards the Aguelzim mountain pass at 3,560 metres so we can reach the next valley and the Toubkal refuge.

Reaching the top of the pass, we have lunch with spectacular views (and mint tea, boiled-up on a small fire).

Snow on the tops, and our first view of the Toubkal massives.

Things start to get exciting as we cross various snow fields.

It’s for this reason we’ve had a picnic today.

Mules cannot safely cross this kind of terrain, so our mule and driver have had to trek back to Imlil, and then up the Imlil pass to join us at the Toubkal refuge.

Our first sight of the mountain Niltner hut at the base of Toubkal.

Inside its a functional mountain hut (which I personally don’t like).

Sharing a room with about 10 other people !. We briefly discussed getting our own room, but decided since we’d be getting up at 4am, the £80 wasn’t really worth it.

Dinner that evening prepared by our cook. I had great expectations. I’d only climbed 1, 4000m peak in my life (Kinabalu in Borneo) and this would be my 2nd.

If only I’d known 🙁

Everyone in the hut was getting up at different times, so we awoke at 2am and never got back to sleep. An appealing nights sleep over.

No matter, we get out, put on our head torches and the 3 of us set off for Toubkal (4,167m).

In winter, the trek requires crampons and ice axes. At this time of year, its “easy” snow, which just mean the annoyance of moving slowly.

900 metres of ascent, It will normally take 5 hours to get up to Toubkal, and back down to the refuge.

The first sun of the day, hits the mountain rocks above and its a beautiful sight.

Were making slow but steady progress, but its clear that were exhausted from the previous few days and its actually going to take us 8 hours to get up and back to the refuge.

As we stop for a rest, I realise people have sprayed political graffiti on these rocks. Is nothing sacred ?

And then, one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made.

Nikki points out, that once back at the refuge, we have to make our way back to Imlil. We’ll be exhausted by the time we get back to the refuge, and lucky if we make it back to our hotel before 12 midnight.

Part of me refuses to give in. But its clear, that here and now, it’s just not going to happen. I realise I’m in denial and Nikki is right.

At this point, were going back anyway, so if we carry on up hill for another hour and don’t reach the top, its just wasted effort.

At this point, I’m transported back several years to an Alpine preparation course I did at Plas Y Brenin with Louise Thomas, one of the best mountaineers in the world.

The other chap in this picture mentioned that he’d almost got to the top of Kilimanjaro, but had to turn back and had always regretted it.

With years of experience she’d said simply “Never regret going back. If its not the time, then its just not the time”.

With a heavy heart, I head back down hill.

Back to the refuge and a cup of awful coffee served by the indifferent staff.

Then we head back down the hill to Imlil.

Its only now I realise how much the previous few days have taken out of me. I’m shattered and deeply relieved that I’m heading for a shower and comfortable bed.

Another teenage “entrepreneur” has setup a small cafe, so we stop for coca cola.

They must have got a special deal on brightly coloured chairs.

At ground level, its a few more miles, with Imlil in sight.

If my feet could speak, they’d be swearing at me right at this moment.

And we arrive at our hotel, Dar Adrar.

A shower and then some food on the terrace.

The adventure part of the trip is over and now we can relax.

We’re reunited with out main bags and relax in our wood panelled room while connecting my laptop to the hotel wifi.

For the first time in several days, I can shut the door, and nobody will disturb me.

A relatively early night, the days earlier disappointments forgotten.

We have a 2nd night booked in Imlil so we’ve got the whole of the next day to explore.

Nikki has been to Imlil before spent time in a place called the Kasbah.

Its rated by National Geographic as one of the best places to stay in the world.

We sat out and had Coca cola and coffee at farcically inflated prices but it was very comfortable and relaxing.

As we wandered further around the village, we found this shop which was closed.

It had a cheeky sign on the front, that said “cheaper than Asda” 🙂

We relaxed at a coffee house in the main village for several hours.

We went through quite a lot of coffee, before heading back uphill for dinner.

The following morning, and its time to head back to Marakesh.

Another mile takes our bags down the hill to our transport.

We actually get to see Mohammed’s famous shop. It has lots of 2nd hand kettles and waterproofs for sale. I love places like that.

And then its 90 minutes in an air conditioned car, back to Marrakesh.

Our adventures over and I’m looking forward to a few beers, some nice food and a lie in.

Hadrians Wall path.

20th May 201727th June 2017 admin Hadrians Wall Leave a comment

	The Hadrian’s wall walk, was opened to the public in 2003. It was the first time since the 3rd century, that it was possible to walk the full length of Hadrian’s wall. Frank and I returned to complete the walk (84 miles) using b+b accommodation, and a delivery service to move bags, and enable a fast and light strategy (a previous attempt at camping, had already failed). Here we are photographed at Segedendum fort, the start of the walk.
The first 12 miles of the walk are coated with tarmac, which means trainers are recommended. Also, since it passes through housing estates, the scenery isn’t up to much either (that’s why we walked east to west, as finishing the walk, walking through a shipyard, wasn’t really what we had in mind). The walk then passes right through the center of Newcastle, and passes under all 5 bridges across the river tyne.
	The walk was quite hard going, with an average of 22 miles being walked each day (we had decided to complete the walk in 4 days).
As stated earlier, Hadrian’s Wall is new, and accommodation is limited along the way (most of the places we stayed were big hotels, and very expensive. Another thing unique about the walk, is that its only supposed to be walked in summer, to preserve the wall. Sometimes part of the wall will be worn out, and wooden devices like this, are used to stop people walking across specific parts of the turf.
	The wall was built almost completely by Roman soldiers. A ditch was built into the design, to make it hard for advancing soldiers to attack (they would end up charging up hill, against a 15 foot wall. Here, Frank stands in a surviving part of the ditch.
The Bridge at Chollerford, taken from the George hotel where we stayed.
	The place where the Pennine Way, crosses Hadrian’s Wall.
Section of the wall, with the Oak Tree, featured in Robin Hood prince of thieves. Robin (Kevin Costner) dances around on the wall at one point, before getting into a fight with some soldiers. Its presently forbidden to walk on the wall, although we saw plenty of parents allowing their children to do it. Not sure what Robin Hood was thinking, but a journey from Dover to Nottingham, wouldn’t normally involve crossing a wall near the England/Scotland border !.
	Bridge at Poltross Burn. It was this 84 foot bridge, that marked the completion of Hadrian’s Wall walk, replacing the broken wooden bridge that went before it. It was built by the same company that made the famous Angel of the North Sculpture in the North East.
A view of several sections of the wall. You can see about 6 continuous miles of the wall, from one point near Steel Rig.
	The road out to Bowness on Solway, was an incredible length, and ran in an almost completely straight line.
The walk completed, we got the bus back to Carlisle (the only one that day, and it left 6 minutes after we arrived, which was exciting) and then the train home.

Peruvian Inca Trail

20th May 201727th June 2017 admin Inca Trail Leave a comment

	While working through my bluelist, I kept hearing mention of the Inca Trail. I like to walk anyway, and had never been to South America, so I took the rare step of modifying the bluelist, and adding the Inca Trail and Machu Picchu to it. I flew via Amsterdam to Lima, and then From Lima to Cusco. Unfortunately, 6 people had cancelled due to the earthquake, so only 5 of us remained (including Danny Quinn, the stalwart of, Off the Wall in Chester). We set off from Kilometre 86.
We walk down from the drop off point, cross the railway lines, and then head across this shaky bridge that crosses the Urubamba river.
	The first part of the trail, wasn’t very steep, and we set of at a cracking pace. I thought that Dan was walking a bit too fast, so I called him back for a photo op. Sadly, the weather wasn’t exactly Malaga.
We are passed by the Hiram Bingham train. Its a first class train, which travels from Cusco to Machu Picchu, serving cocktails and five course meals. It answered one question I had. Where are the Japanese (I hadn’t seen any the whole morning on the trail). Turns out, they mainly travel on this train, then stay at the mundane hotel, at Machu Picchu itself. The tourist train cost $50, the Hiram Bingham, cost $500.
	We stop for lunch across from Llaqtapata. Manco Inca Yupanqui, destroyed this, along with a number of settlements along the Inca trail during his retreat from Cusco in 1536. He did this to discourage Spanish pursuit. In part due to these efforts, the Spanish never discovered the Inca trail or any of its settlements.
Carlos (our guide) stops to re-supply on water (and we re-supply on Toblerone, Kitkat and other necessities). The shop is optimistically named “Shopping Centre” which I think overstates it a bit. They offered to take Mastercard, which will probably save the odd traveller from hardship. Also, after lunch, Carlos switched from his trainers, to walking boots, and we knew the terrain would get a little rougher.
	The guidebook had said to be wary of dogs when walking into a village. It said that the locals, will typically throw stones at dogs that bound towards you and try to bite you. It went on to say, that if you couldn’t bring yourself to do that, you should bend over, as though picking up a stone. In reality, all the dogs I saw, were like this one. Grade 4, without a care in the world.
This appalling picture, probably shouldn’t have been put up, but its the closest I have ever got, to actually stalking and photographing a deer. It was in the woods, on the left hand side of the path.
	We walked up hill some more, walked down into a valley, and then walked out of it again. Finally about half an hour up these steep steps, and we were at our campsite
We arrive at our campsite. There was only us, and one other group staying here, so it was quite nice for the first evening. It also had a turf floor, which was quite comfortable. Dan and I realised that we had been given “Personal” tents. We decided to share one, and let the girls have one each. Here Ashima, unpacks her gear, and works out how to set up all the camping gear she purchased (which has secured the pensions of several salesmen at Blacks outdoor leisure), while Dan’s expression is timeless. The tents weren’t in a particularly straight line.
	It was still early days in the trip, and we wandered around the camp, just before dinner. We found this stream with some pretty cool “rapids” which we tried to photograph in artistic ways.
This little girl lived near the camp site, and kept coming over to explore. She was really friendly (her older sister sold Bottles of coke and stuff like that). On the morning we set off, she had a go at climbing Ash’s walking poles.
	We have our “meet your family” ceremony. Our Porters, Cook, Lead Porter and Guide take it in turns to introduce themselves, then we do the same. The guy with the hat bending down, is the lead porter. At one point, he teased the small guy in front of him, by using the bag scales to way him (he wasn’t very big, but carried the same weight as everyone else). We all had to say whether we were married, how many children we had etc. Ash was able to speak directly in Spanish (the rest of us had to be translated by the guide) and there was a knowing silence, when Ashima told them that she was single. I told them that I was married for the 2nd time. They were all staunch Roman Catholics, it can take years to save for a wedding in Peru, and they seemed shocked and disgusted that someone would get divorced. Once I explained that I came from Manchester (the home of United) they were happy again.
Some of the bridges we crossed were very “Bushcraft” in design (well they would be, they were made by real village dwellers, not computer analysts who pay to go into the woods and learn how to light fires !).
	The route along the trail, was very well organised and policed. I had actually wondered, whether all the stuff about trekking permits really mattered. We had to pass by a checkpoint and show our passports. Our guide had to show his permit, and the Porters bags had to be weighed. A porter isn’t allowed to carry more than 20kg. This means each of us, can only give them 7kg each to carry. It was quite a problem managing for 5 days with just 7kg of gear, and most of us, put extra stuff in our day packs to compensate.
There aren’t many pictures of the 2nd day, as it was physically very demanding (that’s a very euphemistic way of describing it). I was pleased though, that we got it done on the 2nd day. The highest point in the trail, is dead woman’s pass, at 4200m. Most of you will know, that 4000m is a magic number for mountaineers, and here I am photographed reaching that height under my own steam for the first time.
	After a gruelling couple of hours, I reach the top of the pass. The rest of the group, were already there, and had time to compose themselves. You can see from my expression what was going through my mind.
For the previous 45 minutes, I had felt very sick, and I know once I got to the top, I had to get down again pretty quickly. This beautiful path led down through the valley, and into the campsite. Although I was last to the top, I was first to the bottom.
	I didn’t like this campsite very much as it only had 2 toilets between the whole camp, and felt like we were camped in someone’s living room. The ground was very hard to sleep on, wouldn’t have been a problem normally, but the previous day was very hard, and I needed my sleep. The other thing I couldn’t stand, was camp etiquette. At every campsite I have visited around the world, there is an understanding that you keep the noise down after a certain time. Two woman visiting the toilet at 3am, thought it perfectly okay to walk past our tent and conduct a conversation.
Having not slept for more than 45 minutes continuously, I was feeling pretty miserable the next morning. It was raining as we set of walking uphill (much less steep than the previous day). We stop to visit Runcuracay ruins. I correctly guessed that this was of strategic military importance, due to its location in the valley.
	After lunch on the 3rd day, I finally found what I had been looking for on the Inca Trail. There were beautiful stone paths, high up in the mountains, which led through rainforest.
Carlos showed us much of the local plant life.
	It was explained that the Inca Trail had been secret and sacred. It was designed as a Pilgrimage for high born people to walk, and worship along the way. One novel thing I found, was, if only high born people could walk the trail, who would carry the bags. The answer ?. Llama’s.
There were points on the trail, where the Inca’s had tunnelled through rock, and carved steps into the stone floor.
	After much upheaval, a quiet moment of contemplation for me. This is what I had always imagined the Inca Trail to be like.
As arrived at our camp, we had a go at photographing a nearby Glacier. The Inca Trail is surrounded by mountain, some of them are nearly 6000m high.
	This campsite was much quieter, and it was like our own village. I really wish we had been able to have a campfire , unfortunately, these are banned, and I went to bed at 7:30pm (it was very cold at that altitude). To show how changeable the weather was, take a look at this picture.
Ten minutes later, the camp (photographed from the same position) looked like this. Twenty minutes after that, it looked like the first picture again.
	We set of trekking down hill, with the intention of visiting Winawyna for lunch.
Puyupatamarca, a ruin, very close to our camp site.
	As we descended into the tree canopy, it became quite dark. We reach Winaywayna, easily the best facilities of any campsite on the trail, it has a bar and showers. Half our porters had stayed with us until this point, to provide a farewell lunch. The rest had travelled to Aguas Calientes to deposit our bags at the hotel where we would be spending that night.
We catch a glimpse of the the Urubamba river, which marked the start of the Trek.
	After some confusion, and the checkpoint being closed, we set off on the last leg of the trip. It was uphill, and my legs were still stiff from the ordeal at dead woman pass, but it was with a sense of expectation and achievement that we forged on.
We reach Intipunku, the Sun gate, which overlooks Machu Picchu. By this point, I wasn’t fit to be photographed, so I took a picture of Ash instead (Danny was busy setting up Camera’s and stuff like that).
	The photo that people always associate with Machu Picchu, is the one taken from the Sungate. Unfortunately, it was very cloudy that day, and this was the best picture I could get.
With heightened spirits, we walk down to Machu Picchu to complete the trek.
	Soaking wet, with more than 151 insect bites, toothache, AMS and boils I finally complete the trek, and stand in the ancient city of Machu Picchu. I said at the time, that I wish I had done the tour, and got the train instead, but on reflection now, I am glad I did it. We had the whole of the next day free to visit Machu Picchu, and our hotel was waiting. After a few minutes to soak up the atmosphere, we board a bus for Aguas Calientes and visit our hotel.
I spent the afternoon visiting local monasteries, and finding my “center” after such an enlightening experience. Get real !, this is a John Sunter adventure. I hooked up with Dan, in a nearby Boozer and we had some Ale !. Thanks to Jennifer @ the Adventure Company, Our guide Carlos, and our Porters and Cook (who all had unpronounceable names).

Yorkshire 3 Peaks

20th May 201727th June 2017 admin 3 Peaks Leave a comment

	Frank at the Cafe where participants cards are stamped prior to setting off on the Yorkshire 3 Peaks Challenge. The people there were very friendly and helpful, and knew my Uncle John.
This is the Settle to Carlisle Railway Viaduct. Everyone talks about how beautiful it is, but lots of people died making it, which kind of takes some of the beauty away as far as I am concerned. There was a Caravan just near here, which sold Coffee and Burgers, I couldn’t recommend either.
	This is the view of Pen – y – Ghent from my Uncles Cottage. Its really interesting, as because his house is on a hillside, its upside down. The living quarters are upstairs, and the sleeping quarters are downstairs. Otherwise, there would be no view in the living room.
I first saw this walk in Adventure Travel magazine and was determined to complete it. I woke at 6:30 (I was staying at my Uncles cottage) and woke up Dizzy Dave (who was sleeping in a tent at the camp site) and then woke up Frank (who was staying in the local b + b). All 3 peaks must be completed in 1, 12 hour sitting (there wouldn’t be much time for sitting).
	We decided to climb them, in the traditional order. Top of the First Peak. Pen – y – Ghent (694m, pronounced penny ggent). It was a synch really, we got to the top in less than 40 minutes.
Top of the 2nd peak. Whernside (736m). Showing signs of fatigue, the soles of my feet, felt like they were on fire !.
	Top of the 3rd peak and its done !. Ingleborough (723m). Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as that, since it took another hour and 45 minutes to walk back to Horton on Ribblesdale. We put our cards in to get a certificate saying we had done it Eleven hours to complete it. Not exactly Steve Cram, but at least we were doing it, when most of our mates were back home in the Pub !. Off to the local in Horton-on-Ribblesdale, to meet my Uncle John and Auntie Veronica and celebrate.

Multi-Activity holiday in the Pyrenees mountains of Andorra

20th May 201727th June 2017 admin Pyrenees, Uncategorised Leave a comment

	I decided to do a week long multi activity holiday with the adventure company in the pyrenees mountains of Andorra. For the cost, it was actually cheaper to do a trip like this overseas, than it was to do the same thing in the UK. Me standing on Pic Maia.
I am awoken by a woman with dyed blond hair and a spectacular tan. I am obviously in Liverpool, and only need her to speak to confirm it. Then I realise, that she is wearing an orange uniform, and it come’s back to me, I am on a flight to Barcelona with Easyjet. I arrive in Barcelona and have several hours to kill. I spot somewhere that looks friendly, but I draw the line when I read its name. I refuse to drink in any pub called ars.
	After a 3 hour coach drive, we arrive at our hotel in Soldeu. I had a very comfortable room with a bath, just what I wanted. Unfortunately, there were mechanical diggers outside. Since we were mostly out doing activities it didn’t matter.
After a superb “Sunday” roast, our guide for the week Ed, introduces himself and fills us in on some of the details of the trip. One concerning thing, is the weather, which at the time, is appalling. No matter, we are from the UK, and quite used to rain.
	The following day, we set out on a day trek to Pic Maia. The superb thing, is that we are driven to the top by Landrover, and only have to walk down.
At nearly 9000 feet, the air was fresh and cool. One thing I found surprising, was that we didn’t see any other walking parties. You don’t see signs like this one in the Lake district.
	Heading down from Pic Maia we cross a snowfield.
Me standing on a snowfield.
	Griffin vulture. It was flying so high, that I have had to enhance this picture.
Further along the walk, we drop down into the forest.
	The hotel was very friendly, and during the day, you served yourself at the bar, and just wrote down what you drank. Here the excellent Emma (a woman of boundless enthusiasm), acts as barmaid and serves me a pint.
Disaster strikes. Rushing around in the morning, to get ready, I slip on the bathroom floor, and injure my hand on the cast iron radiator. This is a picture of me on a skidoo, I didn’t see much point in putting up a picture of a bathroom.
	We tour the smugglers rout in 4×4 vehicles. Apparently, up until 5 years ago, smuggling was a perfectly legitimate profession in Andorra.
Here our guide Ed, briefs the group, before they take part in some excellent downhill mountain biking. Unfortunately, because of my injured hand, I was unable to ride a mountain bike at that point. I was pretty disappointed, but the views and the countryside made up for it.
	You can see from the shape of these trails why the place is so popular with mountain bikers.
We stop on a peak in the smugglers rout, for lunch. I wander around, and find gun emplacements and dugouts like this one, used during the civil war. I am saddened, when I realise that someone could have died on this hill, and it doesn’t even have a name.
	As we drive back, we stop to visit Civis village. I found the people there were very friendly.
We drive back across the border into Andorra. At one point, we were passed by a police car, that was patrolling the border, looking for smugglers.
	In the afternoon, its out with my laptop to review the mornings photographs. Some bikers had checked in and were watching a bike race in the main bar. I couldn’t see the screen, but I could hear them cheering, and the commentary on Eurosport.
Imagine my surprise, when I came to fly home, that I was sat next to Julian Ryder, the actual commentator I had been listening too, during the race. This picture didn’t turn out very well, as I turned of the flash. He was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him. For a TV personality, he was very friendly and genuine.
	The following day, we have a free day, to do various activities. My hand is still causing me enormous pain, so when the group go to do Via Ferrata, I cant join them. No matter, I didn’t come here to sit on my backside, the hotel owner tells me of an easy walking rout into the village, the Capsa a cale.
The route is known locally as the Chicken run. Not surprisingly, it is marked throughout with this symbol.
	A beautiful sunny day, with fantastic scenery. It was supposed to take 1.5 hours, but I enjoyed it, and took 4.
This tunnel had been “blasted” out of the rock. I didn’t see another person, during the whole walk, and only had animals and birds for company. In this picture, I finally got the timer on my camera to work, and was able to photograph myself.
	In the evening, we walked up the hill, to Soldeu. Although it wasn’t the ski-ing season, and the town was practically shut down, we found this English bar called the pussycat. It was run by a guy called Robin, who like most of the people in Soldeu, works as a ski-instructor during the ski-ing season, and does another job out of season. It made me wonder, how the infrastructure of the town, actually works during winter.
The following day, was a mixture of mountain biking and white water rafting. Because of my hand, I couldn’t do either, so I decided to walk into the town of Canillo and rest my hand. On the rout down the road, was this spectacular outdoor climbing wall.
	Canillo wasn’t so much a town next to the river, as a town built on top of a river. You can see from this construction how its cleverly raised above the water.
I sat in the comfortable village square, spent some time on the internet and had a couple of drinks and a pizza.
	Meanwhile the rest of the team had a go at white water rafting in a place called Sort.
These pictures were taken by Emma, and I would like to thank her for allowing me to use them.
	That evening, The hotels resident band, the Roc ‘ers, entertained us with charismatic live music.
On the left, the Hotel Chef, Ben. A superb cook, and quite the most modest Chef I have ever met. On the right, our multi talented barman Pepe. Throughout the week, he couldn’t have been more helpful, and literally nothing was too much trouble for him. In the center, a charming girl called Laura. She worked at the pharmacy in the village. She was one of the few people I met who wasn’t a ski instructor.
	The following day, my hand is a little better, and for the first time, I am able to ride a mountain bike (I have to hold the handlebars a certain way, and take lots of painkillers, but I am actually riding !).
We cycled a circular rout through the a park near El Cortals valley.
	It was great to be out on a bike, I haven’t enjoyed riding one that much, since I was a child riding my Chopper.
The path went past this beautiful lake.
	At lunchtime, our guides cook a Barbeque at this delightful picnic spot in the El Cortals valley. I was so tired, and it was so warm, that I found a really smooth rock, lay down on it, and went to sleep.
Me at the start of the GR11 trekking rout. In the afternoon, we drove to the top of the El Cortals valley and and peddled down.
	A skating rink in Canillo, featured the go karts, with special tyres, which enabled them to race on ice.
Apparently, the Karts had a governor on them, so if you were driving recklessly, they could slow you down by remote control.
	While I went walking, Emma and Preston went canyoning. I had thought it would be like gorge walking, but actually involved abseiling down waterfalls.
It looked pretty exciting to me.
	On the last morning, we head out walking, in perfect sunshine to the Incles valley. The ridge behind me, is the border between Andorra and Spain.
In places, the rout was quite steep, and days of activities and late nights in the bar had taken their toll on me.
	It was worth my exhaustion, as you can see from these spectacular views of the valley we had, once we got up high.
A thing that really impressed me in Andorra were the refuges. They were similar to mountain bothy’s in Scotland, but had beds and windows and stuff like that.
	Here you can see the fireplace inside the refuge, with a bow saw for collecting wood. There were even tables for cooking and food preparation.
We sit by the lake and eat our well deserved packed lunch.
	As we descend back down the valley, I pause next to this waterfall. I was really sad to come home, despite my hand, I still had a brilliant time. I would like to thank the hotel staff, the locals I met like Robin and Laura and the many friends who were other adventure company participants like myself.

Mount Kinabalu, the highest mountain in South East Asia and my first 4000m peak.

13th May 201723rd May 2017 admin Mnt Kinabalu, Trekking Leave a comment

	Whilst walking the Inca Trail, I traversed above 4200m over a mountain pass. 4000m is the magic number for mountaineers (of which I am not actually one, but I can dream) and I had never actually done a 4000m peak. Mount Kinabalu (which lends its name to Kota Kinabalu) is the highest mountain in South East Asia, standing at 4095m.
Quit a few of the people on the trip had climbed Kinabalu previously and didn’t want to do it again. There were just 4 of us this time, Jason, Sarah, Richard and Me. The gate on a building near to the start of the walk gave this warning. I wasn’t sure if it meant strange looking people will be threatened with 1st WW rifles, or perhaps that people with unauthorised firearms would be intimidated by strange dancing men !.
	Our guide Johan showed us this board which outlined the route. Start to finish, the peak is 8 kilometres. That’s about 3 times my daily walk to work, much steeper though, so it was going to be a lot harder.
This board shows the world records in different classes, for speed ascents of the route. Two and a half hours odd to the top of the mountain seemed unimaginable.
	The walk to the start of the route was really relaxing and we passed this waterfall. Annoyingly all the comfort of the walk downhill to the start had to be made good as we were now at an even lower altitude than at the start.
Once again, the Park fee’s we paid had been put to good use. The guides were all licensed, and carried identity cards and official credentials. There were ready prepared steps throughout most of the lower sections of the walk and occasionally handrails like this one.
	What was cool, was to see the change in vegetation, as we ascended higher. The Nepenthes rajah is an insect eating plant.
As we walked further, the colour of the steps and stone changed to this.
	Just like the Inca Trail we were passed fairly regularly by porters. The difference here was that some of the ports carried parts to maintain/build some of the buildings at the stop of point above. When I finally reached there, I noticed that one of the buildings had a washing machine. I could only presume that it had been delivered by helicopter as I couldn’t imagine people carrying it up !.
Further along, the steps become less pronounced and lighter in colour.
	I saw this Tortoise that someone had made by arranging stones at the side of the path.
Further along the path it becomes more shaded and for a while, the rocks are gray in colour.
	We stop of for a breather (one of many). It was pretty obvious that Sarah was fitter than me, but Richard (photographed behind us) had almost athletic prowess. Equipment wise, I took the same stuff as the Inca Trail, including my long sleeved Rohan shirt, my Karrimor Sabre daysack and my Karrimor KSB Boots (a companion on just about every trek for the last 10 years). In my ruck, I carried water, a warm jumper, my Haglof goretex jacket and my head torch. Camera on my belt so it was always ready and my whistle and mini torch around my neck on a piece of paracord.
As we reach the staging post at the Laban Rata Hut our guide poses in front of these amazing clouds, attired in clothes I normally wear to eat a Sunday Lunch.
	But the struggle wasn’t over !. Our accommodation, was out at the top of this rocky scramble and although it had ropes, it took some going for me to get to the top. I didn’t realise that the trip came with a complimentary Via Ferrata (I would have quite liked to do it, but with the level of exhaustion I was feeling I had to be realistic and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it). It was on these rocks that people get roped up and practice the Via Ferrata.
I had been told the accommodation was fairly basic but I found it to be quite superb. We each had a bunk, a sleeping bag. I had read on the internet that you should take a sheet sleeping bag, but they were provided. There were even sinks and a flushing toilet which is fairly uncommon luxury for a mountain hut. In the “common room” there were mountain pictures (some of them by Doug Scott) and as much coffee and snacks as you could eat and drink. We stopped here for breakfast on the way back. Most of it was nice, but to this day, I have no idea what the Sausage was made from.
	I have always been a bit skeptical of Alpine starts. For me, unless ice is going to melt by the sun I just don’t see the point. We set off at 2am and we went quite a long way along the wooden steps. The Malays were quite the most polite walkers and trekkers I had ever met. I had to stop fairly regularly to rest and each time all the people would stop behind me. I had to explain that it was essential they overtook me, as the whole mountain would be at a virtual standstill for most of the morning.
At one point we reached this 70 degree angle and had to climb a rope hand over hand. Our Petzle head torches proved to be essential. Nobody mentioned 2 kilometres of rope.
	The Bank Robbers. Full on Ski masks were popular among the local walkers. My friend Jason had hung around with me up to this point but now the battle would be fought inside, between my comfort and my will. I have never been a big fan of seeing Sunrises/Sunsets, they always seem to disappoint, so I told him to get cracking so that he could see it.
As the Sun rose, I realised why we had set off so early. The angle of ascent was sole destroying (I had walked quite a long way in the dark and I think would have found it much harder to complete it if I had been able to see how steep the walk was).
	It also explained why sometimes the guides stop the walk at Laban Rata if the rain is heavy. The granite is very smooth and at a steep angle. In rainy conditions it would have been like a skating rink. The rope in the picture is changed each year.
It had been hard work up to this point but I never once considered quitting. You can see the view behind, down the mountain. The view of the clouds made all the effort worth it.
	But there was more to do. The actual peak itself (named Low’s peak) is at the top of a small pinnacle. Its small in relative terms to the height of the mountain. In actual fact it was about a thousand feet.
Standing on Low’s Peak. The actual peak was a lot smaller than I expected and there was a queue to stand on the top. Earlier on the trip, I had asked my friend Jason to take the johnsunter.com T Shirt to the top, and be photographed with it if anything happened to me like I broke my leg. As it was this wasn’t necessary. My first 4000m peak, wearing my johnsunter.com T Shirt.
	We head back down. My feet were sore but the sense of euphoria that comes from experiences like this put a spring in my step and spurred me on. We got back to our hut, rested for a bit and had a brew and some breakfast.
As we carried on down the lower sections of the route it started to rain. Rock, that the previous day had been firm under foot suddenly became slippy. I tried my “parkour” type descent which had served me well on Machu Picchu, but after I fell a couple of times I stuck to steady plodding.
	As we reach the end of the walk, our guide takes my camera and I pose for a photo. A voice behind me ask’s if I would like a Can of Coke. It was Sarah who very kindly paid for the Coke. I can honestly say that I would have paid £100 for that Can, right at that moment !.

Jungle Trekking along the Salt Route in the Crocker Ranges, Borneo

13th May 201723rd May 2017 admin Borneo Jungle, Uncategorised Leave a comment

	We arrive at the start of the Salt Route, a trek through the Crocker Ranges. The gates weren’t due to open until a certain time in the morning but we found a way to squeeze between them and set off.
We had to walk up this enormous hill to get to the ranger station and register. Permits are required for most National Parks in Borneo. This is a good idea, as the money is used to police the park, keep them clean and pay towards the education of the children who live in the villages.
	Looking out from the Balcony we could see back to the ocean. The view was spectacular but sadly my camera couldn’t fully capture it. The Crocker Ranges National park is twice the size of Singapore.
We wandered up hill through the Jungle.
	And we wandered downhill through the Jungle.
An inevitable part of traversing a Jungle is crossing a rope bridge (they aren’t made of hemp anymore, so cable bridge would perhaps be a better name). Memory’s of Indiana Jones were awakened, and I was reminded that you should only cross one at a time, no matter how secure the bridge looks.
	This picture shows a cross section of the bridge, giving some idea of its length.
This picture shows the height. The water bellow is pretty fast flowing in the middle. If you fell in you could be some way own the river before you the drag of the water stopped pulling you. You would also have been molested by the various parasites that live in the river.
	On other occasions, it was necessary to do more basic river crossings. There are some sophisticated ways to do this, including using a pole, 3 people holding onto each other, and various stuff involving ropes, or using your rucksack as a flotation device. In this instance, we just walked quickly through the water being careful about where we put our feet. Dan starts to cross.

	And successfully completes the crossing assisted by a carefully placed walking pole.
We stop at one of the simple shelters along the route (some of them had been built by the Rotary club). On the left of this picture is the excellent Mr Mickey. Although friendly, formalities were always adhered to. He called me Mr John and I called him Mr Mickey. In the background, is one of Mr Mickey’s porters, and on the right, our own indigenous guide of the West Midlands, JK.
	Our first night. We have accommodation at the village hall. It was built by the Government, and belongs to the people of the village. It was very comfortable and set the right balance (the villagers do get trekkers parading through their village occasionally, but they see the benefit from it in rent and the availability of a meeting hall). Along the left, are the traditional chimes that Dan and I had seen in the Sabah Museum, early that week. As I set up my bed for the night I regretted not bringing my thermarest. Since the hut was so warm, I didn’t actually need to sleep in my sleeping bag, so used that as an improvised mattress instead. At the back of the room, is the Kitchen.
I hadn’t realised, that all our cooking would be done by the “lads”. It was humbling to see them carry 3 times the weight of my rucksack, and when we finally arrive at our destination, their first thought was to make us a cup of tea and begin preparing our dinner.
	One thing I hadn’t realised, was just how isolated we were. It wasn’t possible to buy water, it had to be pumped from the river. It was then I found out, where the Trek takes its name. Just about everything the villagers needed was provided by the Jungle. The only exception to this was Salt which in times gone by, had to be carried in on the backs of porters.
I had heard a lot about Leeches in the Jungle. They never actually “got” me, but Dan agreed to pose for this picture so that you can see what one looks like.
	The following day we hit the trail again. We wander downhill through dense jungle.
We wander uphill through dense jungle (in a 3 stooges pose).
	Down again (this time through fallen bamboo).
And then back to the flat.
	Some of the amazing vegetation along the route.
I didn’t see a lot of birds perched on this tree !.
	A pond next to the path with a sort of weeping willow tree overhanging. It looked very serene and peaceful, but I was told that the water in the pond was so dirty, it would give you dysentery just from contact with your eye’s.
The highest point on the trail, is marked with this sort of triangular “thing”. Never mind, it was more about the celebration than the “monument”. We knew at this point, that the path wouldn’t go any higher.
	As we reach our next destination by late afternoon. We arrive at the ranger station (there were no bears there looking for picnic baskets).
I was delighted to see that the local lads had made this superb hammock using bailing twine. They were busy making another when we arrived. I gave the hammock a try-out, and it was very comfortable, if a little short.
	We all rest, and get cleaned up as best we can. The bridge above Dan, would feature heavily, in the following mornings adventures.
I decide its time to put my hammock into action (after some minor mithering by JK, who correctly told me I would regret it, if I didn’t spend a night in my hammock, in the Jungle). I consult with JK the self styled God of Hammocks for technical assistance.
	JK points out that the key to the success of the project is the sitting of the hammock. We find 2 appropriately distanced trees and then tie up (the hammock, not each other). At this point, its essential to lie in the hammock and take the stretch out of it. Once done you get out and re-tighten it, repeating the process until all the stretch is gone. There will always be a little stretch left, but this adds to the comfort and overall sleeping experience.
Camouflage isn’t normally my colour but the Hammock I bought had been recommended by JK and it was certainly up to the job. It had a very comfortable base, a sewn in mozzy net and a basha to go over the top and keep out the rain. Various modifications were recommended like sticks tied in to stop drips and gaffa tape which insects wont walk across. I decided since it was a first outing that I would stick with convention.
	The view from inside my Hammock. I didn’t need a sleeping bag at all, and just slept in my sleeping bag liner. I didn’t realise, just how exhausted I was, and rested/slept in there for nearly 20 hours. I woke with a start at one point but thought nothing of it. I found out in the morning that a water buffalo had attacked the hammocks and JK had been forced to get out of “bed” and chase it away.
Earlier in the afternoon, I caught up with the lads (over black tea) as they played cards.
	In the morning, I wake early and decide to go exploring. JK had mentioned a bridge that was quite “exciting”. You can see on my right, that the support strut is missing.
As I head out across the bridge it lists heavily to one side. I keep a tight hold and pose for this picture (one of my favourite’s throughout all my travels).
	What’s this !. The children from the local village set off for school. Unlike at home in England, where education is perceived to be free, and therefore not valued, these children are on a mission to get to school, and won’t allow anything to get in their way.
…Not even me. As I calmly explain to the Children that we will need to pass each other carefully, they are having none of it. They boldly charge across the bridge and I am forced to grab the cable on my right. The cable offered little more than psychological support and for one terrifying moment I thought I was actually going to fall into the water 40 feet bellow.
	I quickly make my way back to the front of the bridge and not a moment too soon. Another legion of Children are about to head across. The “lead” child (a girl of about 13) smiled at me, but looked as though she wondered what the hell I was doing in the Jungle. At that moment I wondered as well !.
Up and out. We quickly pack our stuff away and continue along the route. You can see from this picture, that some of it was very thick mud, which took some real work to traverse through.
	Further along and things dry out a little as we wander across the paddy field of another nearby village.
There was some debate to the correct name of these creatures. I thought they were wild boars. It was pointed out that since they lived on a farm they weren’t any more wild than me. Domestic Boars, Farm Boars, Field Boars, none of them seemed to sound quite right. On the bottom right of the picture, you can see a superb example of primitive technology put to work. With a few chops of the Parang, this piece of bamboo becomes a perfect trough for the Boars (type unknown).
	A section of the trail was flooded due to rain. Mr Mickey, had worked out an exit route for us. We wandered downhill for a while, through a demolished forest, and we pass under this enormous felled log.
The first time I’ve seen a road for 3 days, we head up this track, to get to our extraction point (does that sound too military ?). It was really hard work and Dan and I had to focus really hard, to get to the top. Luckily JK and Richard were there to motivate us. By taking of up the hill as fast as they could, and not even glancing backwards, Dan and I knew we were all in the thick of it together :(.
	We reach our camp, and are once again (thankfully) put up in the local village hall. At that moment, the heavens opened. You can see from this picture why its called the rain forest.
Another game of cards is pursued and some “cans” are procured by a colleague of Mr Mickey. We also got a few cans of coke as well. We had plenty of water, but there was nothing as refreshing as the taste of Coca Cola.
	In the morning, we all pack up to return home. Mr Mickey, Ridley and the others reverted to “street” dress, and they can be seen here in Rip Curl and other designer labels.
For the final morning the lads decide to take it easy and not cook breakfast. Instead they take us to a cafe frequented by locals as a treat (which they very kindly paid for). I didn’t feel much like eating so I just drank some water. It was interesting to see the kind of place that a typical KK resident would take breakfast in.
	Also interesting were some of the more exotic foodstuffs on display. The tank to the left is full of live Eels and the one to the right live frogs.
What a brilliant trip. Id like to thank Dan, Richard and JK for their company and putting up with me during this adventure. I have to say that some adventures, are pretty uncomfortable when your doing them, and that the real joy comes from reliving the experience. This was one of them. I would also like to thank Mr Mickey, Ripley and the others (who’s names I heard but couldn’t pronounce, let alone spell) for making it such a superb trip.

Alpine mountaineering course in the Swiss Alps.

13th May 201723rd May 2017 admin Swiss Alps, Trekking Leave a comment

	On the first day of the course, we went to a glacier to practice moving around with crampons and ice axes, and stuff like that. I was delighted to find, that all my equipment worked perfectly.
Everyone puts on their equipment.
	Phil instructs in the use of ice axes, and moving accross uneven ground.
The group practice ice climbing on a conveniently sized ice wall.
	That evening, the lads I was sharing an apartment with, decided to practice crevasse rescue (a key technique in Alpine mountaineering) in the living room !.
The following day, we set off, for a 2 day excursion to the Dix Alpine hut. This is a picture of the hut in the distance, as we walked up from Arolla. Although I was much fitter than before, everyone else had been getting fitter as well, and I quickly found myself at the back. The walking poles I bought were really useful, and I reminded myself of the Brian Tracey quote “by the yard its hard, but by the inch its a synch”.
	The Dix hut from outside. It was a beautiful hut, and all the more beautiful for being so isolated. A few of the locals had brought 3 generations of their family up for dinner, and the evening out. They even had Swiss army knives with the hut name and logo on them (I bought one for Sarah).
The cost of drinks in the hut, was a little expensive, but I had a few beers and wine, and the evening was quite fun. The first night, couldn’t sleep due to the altitude, but by the 2nd night, I was fine.
	It’s very hard to get an Alpine guide to pose seriously for a picture.
In the hut during the evening, the mountain rescue helicopter landed outside and many of the Children (and me) all went outside to watch it take off.
	In the morning, we got up to do various activities. The view from the hut was impressive. In the bottom left of the picture is a PYB instructor called Martin, who had been to the top of Everest.
This mountain was the first thing you could see, when you walked out of the front door, of the hut. I could hardly believe the angle of this mountain, the sides formed almost a perfect triangle.
	A glacier up towards the Pign D Arrola. A few of the lads actually got to climb this, but although I was much fitter than previous trips, the blisters on my feet limited me a bit.
Instead, I walked back from the hut with Phil a qualified Alpine guide (it is illegal to guide or lead in France or Switzerland without this qualification).
	Phil showed me this mountain, and with his help I got to the top. At 3015 metres it is the highest I have ever climbed. I ended up going home, the following day, but I had a brilliant time. I would like to thank Twid and Martin, and especially Phil from PYB for an amazing trip and for all their help and assistance.