Category: News

My Trip To Tanzania

Hi! Hope everyone’s well.

Just wanted to say a thank you once again to everyone that supported me in the run up to my trip to Tanzania. I came back a month earlier than planned because of the current situation with Covid 19, however the month and a half that I did spend out there was an amazing experience which I enjoyed very much.

Whilst on the environmental stage of the expedition, where we were planting trees so that a small village could have sustainable resources for the future, I stayed with a Tanzanian family. Seeing how the ways of life differ first hand has really humbled me and made me appreciate what my life is like. I missed out on the section of the trip where we would have built a sanitation block for a primary school. However, Raleigh International are giving me the chance to return this time next year and finish the expedition, which is great.

Thanks once again, I hope everyone has a lovely rest of the summer.

Jacob

DID YOU KNOW About Brass Monkeys?

In the heyday of sailing ships, all war ships and many freighters carried iron cannons. Those cannons fired round iron cannon balls. It was necessary to keep a good supply near the cannon. However, to prevent them from rolling about the deck, the best storage method devised was a square-based pyramid with one ball on top, resting on four resting on nine, which rested on sixteen. Thus, a supply of 30 cannon balls could be stacked in a small area right next to the cannon. The ‘pyramid’ was stored on a metal plate called a ‘Monkey’ with 16 round indentations. However, if this plate were made of iron, the iron balls would quickly rust to it. The solution to the rusting problem was to make ‘Brass Monkeys.’ Brass contracts much more and much faster than iron when chilled. Consequently, when the temperature dropped too far, the brass indentations would shrink so much that the iron cannonballs would come right off the monkey; Thus, it was quite literally, ‘Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.’

A VISIT TO A MUSEUM AND A HARD DAY’S NIGHT

We had started out rather late as the museum did not open early. It was a small museum on the shore of a Norwegian fjord, and it celebrated the heroism of a local resistance fighter who opposed the Nazi invasion of his homeland in 1940. After a fascinating look around the many and poignant exhibits, we walked with our skis and rucksacks to the nearby jetty where a boat was waiting to ferry us across the cold fjord to the opposite bank.

The crossing in a high-speed boat, provided by the Norwegian Marines, did not take long and we quickly disembarked near a small wooden hut where one of the resistance fighters had spent many weeks hiding during the war. He had frostbite in the unheated hut and to avoid gangrene, which he knew would kill him, he cut off his black fingers with a penknife. We silently paid tribute to such bravery before hoisting our rucksacks, clicking into our ski bindings, and moving off across the fresh snow.

Soon we were pushing our way up the steep hillside through young silver birch trees; they made the going tough. After fighting our way through the dense trees, we were hot and sweaty but at least we could now press on to ascend a distant ridge and drop down to a small village where we were to spend the night sleeping in the gym of a school. After the wood, the ascent steepened and we soon found ourselves in a wide gully down which a stream had been flowing, but now in March, it was just a mass of ice covering the rocks. This required care as a slip would have sent me hurtling down from ledge to ledge to the bottom which was well over one hundred feet below. A couple of us took off their skis while others side stepped up the snow which covered the ice. It was very slow going.

At last, the small party was assembled at the top of the gully and before us was a gentler snowfield that led to the distant ridge. It was now late afternoon and while waiting for the last of the party to catch up we dug a hole in the snow to check on the profile and the stability of the crust. The snow layers looked stable and when the last person arrived, we pushed on to the ridge. The shadow of the skier in front was long now and I realised we were rather late to be on the ridge.

It was downhill from the ridge to the valley below, an easy run on skis and our spirits were high. The maps did not clearly show the best line to take so we skied down only to find that we were at the top of a high cliff. This was frustrating and time-consuming as we had to take our skis off – put the skins back under them which allowed us to ski back up to the ridge. After we had repeated this exercise a few times it was pitch black, and we were navigating with head torches, map and compass. The cold made replacing batteries in head torches difficult as our fingers were frozen.

By about one o’clock in the morning, we were tired and unable to find a suitable route down. It was bitterly cold, and the wind was strong. I decided we had better spend the night where we were, in relative safety. So, we decided to dig two snow holes in the steep bank, each one would take 3 of us. We removed our skis and took shovels and snow saws from our packs and began to dig fast which kept us warm. After forty minutes the small caves in the bank of snow were big enough and we squeezed in, blocking the entry hole with the largest rucksack once we were all inside. The change was dramatic as suddenly there was no howling wind and by the light of our head torches, we settled down like sardines to try and sleep – I was exhausted.

I tossed and turned but being in the middle of the three of us I was probably the warmest. After a few hours, I moved the rucksack from the door and found that dawn was breaking. So, I went out and stood looking at the drop below us and realised how lucky we had been to stop where we did. I tried to make a call on my mobile phone, but my shivering fingers could not hit the keys because of the cold.

Just then I saw a flashing light, a strobe, miles away down the valley. It had to be a helicopter looking for us as we were overdue, but it quickly disappeared. Minutes later a crewman appeared on foot as the helicopter had carefully followed our ski tracks and landed out of sight above us. Wearing a flying helmet, overalls and life jacket he looked like someone from another world. He asked if we were all OK and whether we would need a lift off the mountain? I explained that we were British and fine thank you, but the offer of a lift was too good to refuse.

In a very short time, the six of us were in the big noisy smelly beast and just a few minutes later we landed at the school, thanked the crew profusely, and soon we were asleep in our bags on the floor of the gym. It had been a night to remember.

Kindly contributed by a Wenvoe resident

Walk Leader’s Adventures

Boris and Mark urged and encouraged people to “Stay Local” in the early days of the lockdown due to the Coronavirus. As the lockdown is eased and people are actively being persuaded to have a staycation, it seems appropriate to leave Mt Kenya, Mt Kilimanjaro and the Himalayas to describe a more local adventure…on Mt Snowdon.

Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa in Welsh) is the highest mountain in Wales and England (1085m) and can offer views of Pembrokeshire, Anglesey and Ireland on a clear day. On my many ascents, I have never been fortunate to see that far!

The first recorded ascent of Snowdon was by Thomas Johnson in 1639. My plan was to take a group of 15 European students from an English Language summer school to follow in Johnson’s footsteps. The 16-18 year old students had come to a Language school in Shropshire for a month, to improve their English. They did English language activities in the mornings and sports and cultural activities and visits in the afternoon. As the Sports teacher, I decided to offer the students the opportunity to experience Welsh culture and challenge themselves to climb in the wild and magnificent Snowdonia landscape.

An excited and excitable group set off from the Language school. The mini bus was filled with a reverberation of cheerful students making themselves understood in an assortment of languages. On board we had students from Spain, France, Portugal, Germany, Italy, Sweden, Denmark: and they were determined to share their thoughts and communicate!

We arrived at the Pen y Pass car park ready for the 6 hours return journey to the peak and back. We were well prepared: the route had been planned, weather forecast had been checked and the students had appropriate footwear and equipment. Food, water, first aid kits, whistles and insulated foil blankets were carried in small rucksacks. We were ready for any eventuality! Or so we thought!

We set off along the Miners track. The Miners Path was built to carry copper from the Britannia Copper Works near Llyn Glaslyn to Pen y Pass, where it was transported to Caernarfon. Remains of the mining works could be seen as we steadily climbed. The views were glorious as the sun shone down on green grassy hillsides and the water sparkled as we passed by the lakes of Llyn Teyrn, across Y Cob Causeway to Llyn Llydaw. Chatter had changed to a hum as the climbing took its toil on the slope near Llyn Glaslyn. We stopped for lunch.

Mountain weather can be unpredictable and changeable. And change came. What had started off

as a walk under sunny, blue skies changed rapidly as we ate lunch into a “white out”. Thick mist descended upon us and it was impossible to see the whole party even though we were tightly packed onto the hillside above the lake, which was now invisible to us, concealed by the fog. I was anxious and felt apprehensive about continuing as I knew there was a steep and tricky climb ahead, often requiring the use of hands. I was in a dilemma; should I descend?

And then….out of the mist emerged a mountain guide and his sheep dog….He asked if everything was going okay. I explained how I was in a predicament about continuing the climb. The students were keen to continue but not knowing how bad the visibility was up ahead, I did not want to put anyone at risk. The guide then offered to take us to the summit, and return us to the start of the climb. What a hero!!

In very poor visibility, we followed the guide and his dog up the zig zags to Bwlch Glas and reached the summit after a further gentle walk. There was no view of Ireland or Pembroke to greet us, but the students congratulated each other in a multitude of languages and took numerous pictures of themselves with the dog.

As we descended the Pyg track and reached Bwlch y Moch, the mist lifted and we were treated to splendid views down the Llanberis pass. When we reached the mini bus, the guide left us. The students thought I had arranged for the guide and the dog to guide us …..and I am sure their adventure on Snowdon has passed into English Language Schools Folklore.

When we do meet again at Barry Island or Cosmeston on our Living with Cancer walk or Carers walk, I promise that if a mist descends I will get you back to the car park! I hope to see you soon on a walk. Valeways are expecting to restart their led walks in mid August, so check out the programme on their website.