We're still here...

This was a piece that I wrote last night on returning from a Battle of Britain veteran’s signing event held in Farnborough. Everyone can draw their own inspiration from the valiance of our airmen throughout the second world war, with their stories of heroism, courage and camaraderie. Harking back to a time when the best of British was not just a catchy phrase thought up by an advertising man to sell cheap sausages, but when it genuinely did reflect a ‘better’ time of ideals and upheld virtues. Of the courage of a man ready to get into the cockpit of a plane, maybe never to come back to earth, ready to sacrifice his life. This is what still strikes and inspires me, because for me it has a parallel to the short butterfly life of the cancer sufferer, whether the person lives for six months or years, they blossom into life then fade away in memory. It is men like Tom that give me strength, a trait that these men possess so strongly beneath their now frail exteriors.

An old man sits alone at a table in a room now empty, which just minutes ago had reverberated to multiple voices, outstretched hands and looks of hero worship. But certainly this man would never call himself a hero, to do so would seem wrong, to discredit those whose voices can no longer be heard – whether extinguished long ago in his distant memory, or in the recent years of old age, it matters not. The brotherhood of service was then, is still now, as his elderly colleagues shuffle off for a well-deserved lunch and rest.

As he sits in that bare moment I want to go over to talk, to put into action that day, that moment, that I’ve dreamt so long of. But here, in a meeting room at a hotel next to a busy dual carriageway I stand rooted to the spot. Has the morning’s work of signing the endless conveyor belt of books and posters thrust his way exhausted the energy of an old man, or has it brought back those memories that seem so vivid, so real, so not of seventy years ago? In the same way that I can feel the visceral emotion of the lasers and the smoke of the warehouse balcony, the confusion of the club, can he still remember the roar of cannon, smell of glycol, and the taste of fear?

Like a line of ghosts, they are just still present in our world, just still faintly visible to the eye. So frail, so hard to hear, so hard to reach out to; What can I ask, what can I say? Even now I don’t know what would have been right. I wish that the right words had been there for me to say, but they weren’t. But now I can: Thank you Tom, Geoffrey, Peter, William, Bill, Bob, Nigel and Tony. I’m glad I met you, you are there for me when the days are dark.

People often tell me that I’m brave, I don’t know why. “I’m not brave, I’m just trying to stay alive” is what I always say, like something heard whispered from a ghost passing by…

Wing Commander Tom Neil, DFC, AFC - who flew Hurricanes with 249 Squadron
from North Weald during the Battle of Britain. His book "Gunbutton to Fire" is a
classic of its type, as is Tom himself. A kind-hearted and noble man who I count
myself lucky to have met. This picture is copyright of The Independent website.

Training Walks Part Three

I wanted to finish off my blog of last week, which detailed my time in the Lake District getting in some much needed training walks for Mont Blanc. Not that I'm imagining that walking up a few sub 3,000ft 'fells' is going to in any way prepare me for what climbing a 15,782 feet snow-capped monster will be like. It was more of a tester week for myself, to get back out into the mountains after what had seemed an interminably miserable winter; To see how I would fare walking a moderate distance, every day, for a week.

As mentioned in last week's blog, the weather threw everything at me in a week: Snow, torrential rain, horizontal rain...and unbelievably beautiful, blue-sky sunny days. The sort of days that you really are glad to be alive. Everything seemed crystal clear, ultra-defined, with an extra sense of heightenment. They're the sort of days that I remember as always being the best when I used to surf a lot, where the air seems to possess a shimmering quality, where you feel its rawness as you breathe it in.

A mountain that I'd long dreamt about: Causey Pike, North-Western Fells.
17/03/11. A day of horizontal rain and piercing wind.
Not the best day to be attempting a short, almost grade one, scramble!

Another peak of a similar fascination: Hobcarton Pike, or Hopegill Head.
The latter being the OS name, the former Wainwright's.
Whatever, a beautiful, but long, walk from Stair over Ladyside Pike.
With yet another hand-to-rock experience, which I wished had been longer.

From Hopegill Head or Hobcarton Pike the way westward over Whiteside.
A walk we'd tried to do in the snows of last winter, but failed miserably.
18/03/11. Another beautiful day in paradise.

Longside Edge, the way to Skiddaw. Derwent Water in the distance.
19/03/11.

The red, dome-like summit of Skiddaw. Still a way to go yet!

Skiddaw South Summit, looking towards the North-Western and Western fells.
Very, very cold, with a biting wind. Not the time to be taking in the view.

So that concludes my pictures of my last Lake District, although we're hoping to get back soon - my health permitting. Until next time, thanks for reading.

Training Walks Part Two

Living in the beautiful place where we do, on the East Devon and Dorset border, we're blessed with an abundance of beautiful places to get out to explore when the sun shines.  Even when it doesn't there's beauty and subtlety in the rolling hills, the cliffs, the pebbled beaches, the woods – whether they're covered in sun or cloud, their mood can sometimes accurately mirror my moods and lift them when they need to be. The looking at a map to find somewhere new to explore can often lead to a gem of a walk, unexpected and unknown. A walk down through the meadows of Thorncombe from Coles Cross this week brought such a surprise: On the map it looked plain, but in life it was anything but. It spoke to me of the pastoral idyl of Hardy, unchanged but very much loved.

With the arrival of Purdey I have to get out, to release her from the monotony of a life indoors. Her sad eyes follow you endlessly, as she waits patiently. But once we are out I am glad that we are, that she urged me to follow her back into life. I would lie if I said that things were easy at the moment. My aches and pains have returned, plunging me into doubt as to why they have returned to plague me once more. My bones hurt, mystery burning sensations too. My head hurts behind my eyes. But I'm still free to see the waves break on the shore, to see my dog frolic in the sea once more.

The setting sun at Charmouth, a wet dog, a glad heart all

I have always held a special place in my heart for the Lake District, a place visited from when I was very young, dragged protestingly up mountains no matter whatever the weather. The stories of our journeys up snow-bound ridges in the depth of winter, ill-fittingly equipped, have passed into legend, as have the memories of sore feet and heated tempers. It is place that I return to for solace, to be amongst friends – those beautiful rolling fells. Whether I will finish my Wainwrights or not I don't know, but I'm a third of the way through now, so I can look around and can see where I've been. The names that I adore so much: Blencathra, Glaramara, Sail, Grasmoor, Helvellyn, Ladyside Pike, Wasdale, Ennerdale. They are places that I return to, to escape to in my dreams.

The North Western Fells from Red Pike, the High Stile Ridge, Buttermere.
A walk that I've been wanting to do for a long time, it didn't disappoint.
13/03/11: Red Pike, High Stile, High Crag.

One of those mountains in the previous picture, Whiteless Pike, on the descent from Wandope.
14/03/11: Grasmoor via Lad Howes, Eel Crag, Wandope, Whiteless Pike, Rannerdale Knots.

Just over a month ago I was lucky enough to get to the beautiful Borrowdale valley for a week on my own, to walk amongst the hills with my thoughts. Beautiful blue skies, snow on the tops, drizzling rain and cloud – all in a week – but all welcome. Concentrating mainly on the fells in the Buttermere and Newlands Valleys six days of walking yielded another twenty two Wainwrights, but more than anything it gave me the hope that maybe I will get to Mont Blanc, if not to the top to get there at least. If I just can keep on walking...

Another fell that I've wanted to climb for a long time, Fleetwith Pike.
16/03/11: Fleetwith Pike (pictured), Grey Knotts, Brandreth, Haystacks.

The same mountain, Fleetwith Pike – the view from the top.
A fun climb with a few interesting sections of hand-to-rock action.

I'll be adding another post with further pictures of the rest of my week shortly.

Blogger Down - Latest Post Missing

Some sort of Gremlin attack has occurred at the Blogger headquarters, they must have sprinkled water on some of those cute furry creatures or something. Anyway, the upshot, amongst a general state of panic here at Piper Towers, is that my latest blog and all my comments have gone missing. It will appear in a Google search, but can't be opened. A bit like Naomi and chocolate, there one minute, next thing it's gone. Apparently the dog did it. Even though it will kill it.

“Ummm, I just love a small piece of chocolate now and then”

Anyway, back to harassing the Blogger technical staff.

The Fun of Fundraising

It was about time that I wrote about the fantastic effort that was put in at my recent fundraising event in Beer, and the result – a huge amount of sponsorship to put towards my Justgiving target and my Mont Blanc attempt later this year.

Organised by one of my family members - Annette, an absolute star - she worked tirelessly (as did my Mother) in getting it all booked and off the ground, finding people that were willing to book tables, participate in some way by donating items for sale, or willing to help out on the day. Booked for the Saturday of the first bank holiday weekend, we were expectant that there would be a large number of people around due to the run of extremely good weather there had been just before the holiday. However, recent sales had not been very well attended so we were a little nervous.

With the help of Dan at The Roy Castle Lung Castle Foundation I had borrowed a large banner to hang outside The Mariner's Hall, as well as a good range of publicity material to spread out on a table in an advantageous position. I'd also let the local newspapers know about the upcoming sale, as well as one of them ran an article about my myself and my diagnosis, my work in highlighting the importance of early lung cancer detection, the lack of research funding, and of course my Mont Blanc climb. The same paper had also arranged for a photographer to attend on the Saturday should any rioting occur at the cake stall!

The day started off sunny, which was a good omen. My stepdad had parked his vintage British motorcycle (an AJS) outside, which was getting lots of admiring glances and helping to stop people on their way down the street. Natalie, a relative from Colyton, had her two little boys also set up outside doing a fast business in selling their toys onto unsuspecting punters. Born businessmen if ever there was! There were bric-a-brac stalls and a raffle and tombola with lots of generous prices donated by local businesses (too many to mention, but a BIG thank to you all if you're reading this). Naomi and myself were manning the kitchen, dispensing the teas, coffees and cakes - a very busy task at the height of the morning.

Picture courtesy of the Axminster Pulmans

All-in-all it was a fantastic morning, with a great turnout and dedication from everyone involved. It was very touching that so many people put so much hard work in, donated their time and energy or items. I can't really name them all in person, but obviously special thanks to Annette, my Mother, Lynette (for the coffee, tea and eggs!) and everyone else that donated generously.

I can't deny that it was a very tiring morning for me physically and mentally, but we raised a spectacular amount of money towards my sponsorship, which is bringing my target and Mont Blanc that ever bit closer. Hopefully my Father will be arranging a charity fundraising concert later in the summer, so I'll keep you posted.

Thanks for reading, until next time...