Beautiful Days Festival 2014

Well, I did say I might write something about one of these, so you have been warned.  And what better one to write about, Beautiful Days is a small, friendly festival which has been run by folk-rockers the Levellers for ten years or so, the idea being to return to what festivals used to be like before corporate sponsors brought us Reading and Leeds, and before Glastonbury became the size of a small town.  I've been here for the last five or so, and this year I am stewarding which should be interesting, for one thing I'm here for fully six days, turning up on Wednesday the day before the paying customers.  I pitch my tent (in crew camping!), sign in with the Oxfam people who run the stewarding team (all in a good cause you see), then head for a wander around.  Very little is open at this point, the stages are largely built but there is plenty of activity setting up the food stalls and all the weird and wonderful decor that you see at festivals.  Back to steward HQ for my briefing - don't turn up for work drunk, that sort of thing - and then, of course, to the bar.  My 'backstage access' wristband gets me into the crew bar which is very nice, sofas and everything, and I have a few beers in pleasant company before bed.

Looking towards the main stage, before the public turn up.

 Thursday is when the customers start arriving, though there won't be much music today, and in any case I have to work, in one of the campsites, until midnight.  It's not a bad way to spend a few hours, I wander around the campsite checking for dangerous fires, answer the odd question and give directions, and chat to my fellow stewards.  Even when sheltering from a brief downpour under our watchtower, it still beats sitting in an office.  Midnight comes soon enough, time to find the party - well, turns out on the first day of the festival proper there isn't much of one.  I walk past a few public bars, all just closed, then manage to find a beer or two in the crew bar just before it too closes.  It is still too early to go to bed (for reasons that will become clear) so I head to the fringes of the festival.  Not much is happening, eventually I end up dancing to a reggae / tomtom mixup in the Leviticus tent, before heading to bed.  Well, bedroll anyway...

Public Service Broadcasting.

Friday, I have a good lie in, then meet up with my mate Chris (who has paid to get in, the fool) and enjoy the festival.  With a strong line up at the 'second stage' (Gabby Young, Cara Dillon, Adrian Edmonson and the wonderfully named Carolina Chocolate Drops) we pretty much stay there all day - there is food and beer (not that I drink much) and generally all is good.  The only drawback, I have to be on shift again at midnight, and then all the way through to 8am.  Well, it is good to learn that I can still enjoy the festival without drinking for hours, and I'm not missing much, barring the late night stuff - well, time for that tomorrow.  So, having done this at Glastonbury as well, I have learnt a lesson or two - on with a lot of warm layers of clothing, and back to the watchtower.  It is a long, cold and largely dull night, at least I have company, but there is really not a lot happening - I am up a watchtower in the 'quiet and family' camping area.  Up until as late as 4am people are still wandering back from the silent disco, and we do get the occasional report of breaks in the fence - no sign of the culprits though.  I keep awake thanks to regular deliveries of coffee, and eventually the sun comes up, early risers start to emerge from their tents, and at last, it is eight and I can get back to my tent.  Although I do briefly consider getting some breakfast and just not bothering with sleep...

The lovely Bimble.

Five hours or so later and I'm up and about, I now have the whole weekend free, yay.  Meeting up with Chris once more, we take in the festival sights - there are fire jugglers, giant scrap sculptures, flaming dragon heads and industrial scale bubble machines.  Reaching a favourite part of the festival, the Bimble Inn, a kind of giant elongated teepee, we have a pleasant afternoon watching the little known (but often very good) bands playing there.  Back to stage two (the Big Top) for Steeleye Span, playing songs from their rather cool Terry Pratchett collaboration 'Wintersmith'.  I'm a little sad that the 'ayurvedic' haddock chowder I'd had my eye on is sold out, never mind, almost as good is the massive 'flat cow' burger with stilton and bacon I get instead.  Then back to the Bimble, there is more live music and then a DJ - I still have the energy to dance for a while, but understandably sleep like a log back at the campsite.

All along the watchtower...

Sunday, and the fun continues.  We actually spend time at the main stage for the rather bizarre Public Service Broadcasting, then the big top for festival stalwarts 3 Daft Monkeys.  One of the meal tickets I received as part of the stewarding deal gets me a massive falafel which pretty much keeps me going all day... that and the beer.  More time is spent in the Bimble Inn, and the day flies by, as they do when you're having fun.  Not much sleep for me tonight either as I have an 8am start for my final shift - back to another watchtower in another campsite.  Quite interesting watching the site empty, the tents come down (apart from the abandoned ones), and the clean up crews sweep across removing litter from what increasingly starts to look like a country park again.  There's an unfortunate incident when a cherry picker used to dismantle the speaker stacks topples over, two people are injured and carried off in air ambulances - hopefully without permanent damage.  Not much of interest happens in my campsite though, and at 3pm I'm able to pack up my tent and start the long ride back to London.

So - in retrospect, this was all very enjoyable.  It's a great festival, and the stewarding didn't really impact at all on what I was able to see - and indeed, was often kind of fun in and of itself.  I would do this again.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

London Triathlon, August 2014

Has been a little while since an update here hasn't it.  Well - this summer I've been using my holidays for festivals, as usual, and unlike last year I've not tried to cram some walking into every free weekend, what with there being DIY stuff that I really needed to catch up on.  I suppose I could write about the festivals... maybe for the next one.  Still, the triathlon certainly seems worth a mention.  Not the first one I've done, that was London back in 2011, then in '12 and '13 I did London again, then Birmingham, in a team with my friends Sam and Alex.  The team thing was good as I just did the cycling, the bit I'm actually good at... but this year I thought I should push myself a bit.

Sunday morning then - early Sunday morning.  One of my biggest worries was that my alarm would go off at 5am and I simply wouldn't be able to face getting up to do the thing, in the event though the battery in my carbon monoxide alarm picks this very moment to expire, so I am forced to get up and hunt out the source of the high pitched beeping.  Might as well go and do the tri then.  A quick cycle to Greenwich, through the foot tunnel and then along the river, and I'm at the Excel Center in good time for my 7.30 start.  Rack up my bike, attach the timing chip to my ankle, wetsuit on, and off to the start... there seems to be some sort of delay, and then my group is big enough that they have to split it in two, I'm happy to be in the second sub-group.  But by 7.35 or so I'm in the water, the hooter sounds, and we're off.

Pedalling along.

Swimming is not really my strong suit.  Bottom line is I am slow, and last time the mile swim, that the stars of the sport do in twenty minutes or so, took me an hour, including a minute or two clinging to a canoe while I got my breath back.  I have been training, but not in open water... in the event the wetsuit isn't a problem, but just as last time, swimming in a straight line is.  The route starts off straight towards the sun, not a good thing to use as a reference given it moves, and making out anything else in the glare is hard.  Several times I find myself swimming the wrong way, more than once bumping into the boundary rope, and heaven knows how much this adds to the distance.  Still, I reach the turnaround, and without the sun in my eyes things are better.  I find that my legs, which I don't use much for swimming as I get out of breath when I do, are getting kind of cold... feeding in a bit more power there I seem to go faster and am still breathing OK.  I can do this!  It is disappointing then when the next wave of swimmers, the 8am starters, begin to overtake me - well, I did start a bit late.  I pull a little to the left to let them pass, the swim continues, and eventually I reach the second turnaround.  Can't be long now, but I'm facing the sun again, not totally sure where I'm going, and the water churns with swimmers overtaking.  It is hard to get any proper stroke going and frankly this is no fun at all... I swim into a boundary rope again, reorient and then spot the exit, and put one last effort into reaching it.  Back on dry land I feel shattered, light-headed and can barely stand, let alone get my wetsuit off and run along with it - but that's what I have to do.

At least my bike is easy to find - being one of only a few left at transition.  It is so tempting just to sit down for a bit, but after pulling on my clothes, shoes and (mandatory) helmet, I grab the bike and wheel it out of the building.  Once outside I'm allowed to get on the thing, and am soon pedalling west.  This bit I can at least do - a bit.  The other competitors are still overtaking me, but probably not going twice as fast, and I seem to be making a fair pace through the wilds of East London, past Billingsgate Fish Market and on to Tower Bridge, following the route taken by the Tour de France a few weeks back.  My legs are feeling it a little though, and with a bit of a headwind this is hard work.  Still, at this pace it doesn't take long to reach Parliament Square, where I turn and now have the wind behind me.  I grab one of the fruit pastilles secreted on the bike and power along the Embankment, this is actually fun, and on reaching the Limehouse Link tunnel I manage a sustained period in top gear.  That is the first lap pretty much done, the second is shorter and barring a small disaster (the last fruit pastille on the bike has escaped somehow!), I get back to the Excel with no problems.

Running out of the Excel Centre.

It all goes a bit wrong in transition though, as I just can't find my space among the hundreds of bikes now racked up.  I could just leave my bike in any space I suppose, but I don't like to - and damn it, I want the rest of those fruit pastilles.  After wandering around for probably several minutes, I find where somebody has put their bike right on top of my stuff, grr.  At least it was a bit of a rest, and so despite the trials of the last two and a half hours I'm able to jog out of the building.  Just six miles to go... I've been running a bit, and it is just putting one foot in front of the other really, and here is where most of the spectators are which is nice, having people cheering you along does help.  It is hard though, my legs are hurting and there is a voice in the back of my mind saying, 'just walk it'.  The thought of the embarrassment of doing that in front of all these people is probably all that stops me, so I keep running, grabbing some water when I can, and eating my way through my packet of pastilles.  It is, after all, only six miles, three laps alongside the docks.  The distance actually goes by in something of a blur, and before I know it I'm turning at the halfway point of my third lap, just a mile to go.  No way I'm going to stop running now, and in fact as I pass a tent pumping out music, adrenaline kicks in and I speed up.  Coming into the building with the finish in sight, there is an odd feeling of euphoria - I guess this is why runners talk about the addiction of the thing, to be honest I am not convinced it is worth it.  Still, I manage to sprint to the line, and this year I've finished in under three and a half hours.  Rubbish it may be, but it's a personal best - keep improving at this rate and I'll be under three hours by the time I'm, er, fifty.  This assuming I ever do this crazy thing again...

With my medal, and wetsuit out to dry.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Dutch Borders, Day 4

A wood in Belgium, or possibly Holland.

Last day, bit of a shame really as my body is finally starting to work properly - my right knee stopped hurting after only a day or so, but of course it had been leading to a slightly unnatural gait and a strained muscle or two.  You'd think walking along completely flat terrain would be easy, I guess I am not as young or fit as I was, still, I stride north out of Hamont at a fair pace.  Today my route follows sandy tracks through forest and scrub - it is not exactly unspoilt wilderness, but it is nice that there is little sign of human impact other than the path I'm walking on.  At some point I walk back into the Netherlands, with as little sign or ceremony as when I left.  The woodland paths take me most of the way to Valkenswaard, where I get a hamburger for lunch - only in Holland would this come coated in breadcrumbs and deep fried!

Can't say I'm not seeing the sights...

From here it is back into the woods as I continue north towards Eindhoven.  This area seems popular with mountain bikers - I guess if you don't have any actual mountains, then an undulating sandy path through the trees is better than nothing.  Eventually I emerge into the open, and after a pleasant stretch alongside a small river I reach the outskirts of the city.  My route is along another canal here, but rather than being a green corridor it turns out to be rather industrial, still it is interesting enough to watch the cranes in action, and then I walk through a concrete factory, not sure if that was a public road to be honest.  That is as close as I get to Eindhoven, the canal continues into pleasant open country, and takes me all the way to the airport.  Time for a beer, then back to Stansted...

Well, this was certainly a different kind of hiking experience.  Less of the gruelling ascent into howling gales in the wilds of nowhere, and more of a lengthy stroll along a variety of entirely flat surfaces, all the while surrounded by civilisation.  And it doesn't really get more civilised than Holland - everything is so neat and tidy, I feel a little out of place at times in my scruffy outfit.  But still, it is certainly nice to immerse myself in a different culture - albeit, not very different.  I think that in this part of the country, a fair distance from the rather special case that is Amsterdam, you get to see the real Holland.  And it has to be said, it is not a great deal different to England.

Last canal of the trip, was rather charming.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Dutch Borders, Day 3

Street market in Heythuysen.

Another day in the Netherlands then.  I walk out of Heythuysen along the main street, seems it is market day.  Rather charmingly, while there are a few professional stallholders, it is mostly people selling their unwanted belongings, car boot style.  There are many used toys, but I resist the urge to buy lego, and head out of town.  A few miles of roadside cycle path, then I meet a canal, given I'm in Holland it's about time I walked along one of these.  Quite impressive it is too, more like a ship canal than the kind of thing we have around London.

I continue along canals for several miles, eventually reaching a fairly large town, Weert.  The canal takes me all the way through it, although I do stop for a beer and a 'kaas tosti' - my Dutch is improving.  Not far out of Weert I leave the canal, back onto cycle paths for several miles of woodland.

Canal!

The last couple of days I've strayed a little away from the border, essentially I've taken a short cut.  Time to get back to it then, as my destination today, the Villa Christina in Hamont, is in fact in Belgium.  In the event I walk all the way into Hamont with no sign of a border, then in the centre of town I notice shops advertising their web presence at .be addresses rather than .nl.  Guess I'm in Belgium then.  Seems pretty quiet, well, it is Sunday night.  I find a beer and some pizza anyway.

Belgium!

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Dutch Borders, Day 2

Working barge on the Maas.

After a much needed night's sleep I set out on the second leg of my little escapade, heading into central Venlo.  Seems to be a destination for day trippers judging from the busy coach park.  I have no time to visit the Limburger museum however, another eighteen miles or so to do, most of it along the river Maas.  This is a broad, placid waterway plied by pleasure craft and substantial working barges - plenty of cargo in Holland still goes by boat.

The Maascorridor.

I'm pleased to find my route is a marked 'voet pad', that is, footpath, the Maascorridor.  After many miles of tarmac cycle route yesterday it feels much better to have grass underfoot.  I walk along with the sun-dappled river to my left, birds sing in the trees and dandelion seeds float in the air, it's all rather idyllic.  The miles roll on and before long I'm at my lunch stop, Kessel.  A pleasant little place, and as might be expected it does have a castle.

Back along the Maas, past a complex of locks built large enough for barges, and then I leave the river at another small town, Neer.  Walking through very English looking suburban style streets, the neatly trimmed hedges suggest this is a popular retirement destination.  From here I take another footpath, this time through woods, to the destination for today, Heythuysen.  The hotel Het Anker turns out not to have a bar or restaurant, but these things are nearby so all is good.

Fortifications at Kessel.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Dutch Borders, Day 1

Crossing the border into Holland.

Regular readers (that's me then) may recall me skiing from Italy into France a month or two back, and wondering why I'd not done something similar on foot.  Well, here I am then, flying into Dusseldorf Weeze airport (not in fact very near Dusseldorf), the plan being to walk into Holland - well that is today's plan at least.  Simple enough really, the airport, an old RAF base, is only a mile or so from the border, and so after a quick stroll, and then no more ceremony than, say, passing from Sussex into Kent, I'm in a different country.

Of course there is plenty more to do, I have a little over twenty miles planned.  To begin with I walk through the Maasduinen national park, an area of sand dunes which I guess is the nearest the Netherlands has to hills.  Then on through flat country, a landscape of woods, still lakes and fields bisected by drainage ditches.  Not exactly awe inspiring but certainly relaxing, although my right knee isn't feeling too happy.  Maybe I should have brought my poles?

The Maasduinen.

I stay near the German border, crossing it a couple of times without any noticeable change of scenery.  Cycle route signs with either 'D' or 'NL' are my best indicator as to which country I'm in.  Destination for the day is Venlo, a sizeable place, however as I didn't want to walk too far I'm stopping at a motel to the north of town.  Well, it has a bar and a surprisingly good restaurant, what more do I need.

Campanile Hotel, Venlo.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Back in the Brecons

A bit of water never hurt anybody.

Well, I certainly had a good time on my last hiking trip to South Wales, weather notwithstanding.  So when my sometime walking companions Stuart and Sarah suggest a weekend in the Beacons, how can I refuse?  For some reason they don't seem entirely convinced by my plan of a four day hike from Newport to Swansea via Pen y Fan however, so we go for hiring a cottage in the rather charming village of Llangors, not far from Brecon itself and within the National Park.  The presence of a micro-brewery in the village may influence our decision slightly...  Arriving in the village around lunchtime, we have time for a little wander in the afternoon, so head out around the local lake.  Well - as it turns out the flooding from earlier in the year hasn't quite subsided in this part of the world, so some of our walk is more in the lake than around it.  Pleasant spot though, and after a while we climb a little and get out of the water.  Then back to the village where we find one of the pubs does rather excellent food (pheasant with black pudding and bacon!) and the other, with the micro-brewery, has live music.  Fun is had.

Snow-capped Pen y Fan.

Day two in Wales and we decide to go for it, Pen y Fan, the highest point in the park.  We drive the short distance to the Storey Arms, which turns out to be just about on the snow line - nice to see some of the white stuff after a mild winter with no snowfall in London.  Lots of people up here, some more appropriately dressed than others for the conditions, biting wind often with sharp ice crystals in it.  It is certainly bracing when we reach the summit, though at least the snow is preferable to rain, and there is something of a view, certainly better than my last trip here.  From the top we leave the throng and head North, down into the rather scenic Cwm Llwch and then to the Tai'r Bull Inn, still much as I remember it from all of two years before.  From here it is a few miles of gentle uphill to reach the car, and then back to Llangors for dinner.

Trig point on the Offa's Dyke Path.

Sunday, and Sarah has expressed an interest in Lord Hereford's Knob, a six hundred and ninety metre high peak at the far east of the National Park, also known as Twmpa.  Apparently back in the day the Lord Hereford of the time would travel up here to take his lunch with a commanding view over his county, as you do.  Not sure he'd fancy it now though, after a long and somewhat scary drive up steep single track roads to reach a car park, we exit the car into driving wind with fat flakes of snow in it.  Less than a mile to the summit, but it is challenging to say the least - it's a considerable relief to reach the top and then turn ninety degrees so that the wind is behind us.  Thankfully the weather improves as we walk a fair distance along a ridge, with the sun shining as we clamber down towards Llanthony Priory.  The pub in the crypt is still there and provides a tasty lunch, whereafter we climb steeply up the other side of the valley to meet the Offa's Dyke Path.  Of course this is along a ridge, one marking the border with England in fact, and fine views together with a well maintained path make for a good afternoon's hike - I must come back and do the whole thing some time.  It is a bit of a shame that when we reach the village after another long drive, anticipating pigeon sausage and the like, we are told that there is no food 'cos it is Sunday.  Ho hum, we end up with delivery pizza and David Attenborough back at the cottage, could be a lot worse.

Stuart, Sarah and me on Pen Cerrig-Calch.

Last day, and after exiting the cottage we drive back towards Newport and the train, still, time for some more hill before returning to London.  Today we eschew taking a route planned by me in favour of a rather good book of walks in the region, picking a seven mile or so climb out of Crickhowell, up Pen Cerrig-Calch and then down over Table Mountain.  Makes for a good little hike, from above you can see why Table Mountain is so named, and the views are good too.  Then back into Crickhowell for some dragon sausages (made with real dragon I am sure) before getting the train.  Well, this was a nice little trip I must say... certainly good to get to the top of Pen y Fan and have enough visibility to know I'm there.  Maybe it wasn't the most adventurous thing I've done - roll on next month.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.