I don't care what the weatherman says...........

I have a theory, and whether there's an ounce of truth in it or not, I'm going to share it with you.

The weather - that most commonly used of subjects guaranteed to break the ice in any potentially awkward silence when, let's face it, you've got naff all else to say, and the only thing you have in common with the people in your immediate vicinity is that you've all got heads. (Well, you might have something on the tip of your tongue worth sharing, but exposing your inner-most thoughts has got me in to a lot of trouble in the past, particularly with traffic wardens and vegetarians, so let's stick to moaning about the rain....again!)

I've never really been bothered about whether or not we should be expecting south-westerly prevailing winds, or there's a 40% chance of isolated showers. As long as the air was breathable and I wasn't going to be savagely attacked by a malnourished (and very lost) polar bear as I left the house, I was happy to step out in most conditions. However, ever since I decided that trundling up a mountain was no longer "an insane waste of oxygen", and that the climatic conditions at 3300ft can genuinely mean the difference between life and death, I now pay much closer attention to those forecasts as a means of deciding where, and indeed if I am going to venture out in to the fells that day.

Invariably, one found oneself looking to the oracle of truth, the BBC for the low down. All I wanted to know really was what temperature should I expect (i.e. will the brass monkey's be singing "Soprano" come nightfall) and is it likely to precipitate in some shape or form?

It wasn't until about my tenth solo walk that it finally hit home. Rob McElwee (the one whose tie never matches his suit) and all the other disciples of the "Fish" (that's Michael by the way) are talking complete and utter pigswill! Never, ever have they been right about the Lake District weather that day! "You can expect a dry and pleasant afternoon all round" they said - I got soaked and mild hypothermia! "Temperatures should be pretty mild for the time of year" - I got frostbite and considered joining the Ranulph Fiennes school of DIY surgery by sawing off my own fingers off to prevent the spread of gangrene!

So, what on earth is going wrong? Well, I reckon all the traditional forecast templates have been saved on a memory card and then left on a bus or something by a work-experience student. Or perhaps it's been poached by ITV! Either way, since then a selection of 7 pre-determined summaries must have been hurriedly drawn up by the BBC (enough to satisfy the Countryfile programme) and are then drawn out of a top hat.......by an ageing white rabbit called "Flopsy".........who has a scorching case of "mixi"........and cataracts!

Proof of this will be backed up by my fellow 3-peakers who have had on more than one occasion, justifiable reason to to fire endless sarcastic comments about me and my weather predictions! "Don't shoot the messenger" would seem an apt headstone statement should I drop down dead in the next few months!

And to prove my new theory, 3 weeks ago I headed out for a solo stroll in to the "High Street" range of mountains in NW lakeland. The forecast was one of doom and gloom, of heavy rain and impending nightmare conditions. The meteorological equivalent of Armageddon and the book of Revelations all rolled in to one Hellish pit of precipitation! And do you know what? It never happened! I had 3 and a half hours of mild conditions, perfect clarity and no need to dig deep into the rucksack and put on the waterproofs.

So, dare I put my neck on the line here and say to you all "Whatever the weatherman says, think the opposite?" Actually, no! Don't even go there, because that's just stupid! The weather up there will put a quick end to your life should you not respect it! It's the luck of the draw really, so my advice is always go prepared.....for the absolute worst, because at 3000ft in central Lakeland, there's a good chance you're likely to get it! Been there, done that, got lost!

Last Sunday however, my sister joined me for a stroll around the same aforementioned mountain range, but this time the weather forecast was actually right. "It's gonna be warm, humid and sticky out there today". And do you know what? For the first time, they hit the nail bang on the head! What a glorious advert for how magnificent our country can be! Blazing sunshine, wonderful views over England's roof and endless scope for thinking about how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful part of the world. But at the risk of being shot down by you all for being a Victor Meldrew, I will say that it was perhaps a little too warm for slogging up a fell side for 2 hours. I have sweat ducts in my head that would put the fountains in Trafalgar Square to shame. It starts somewhere in the scalp, then forms 2 main subsidiary rivers. The first one follows the traditional route of down the forehead then splits further again into 3 smaller streams. Two of them provide a salty, stinging acid solution for each eye, and the other makes its way relentlessly down the nose and eventually into the mouth whereby I get the pleasant aftertaste of Hair Gel and Ambre Solaire Factor 25.

The second torrent of perspiration follows a more direct route down the back of the neck, straight down the spine, and unless I'm wearing a plastic tutu, straight into the valley of Gluteus Maximus, which then doubles up as a huge, abrasive sponge. The knock on effect of this will be the complete erosion of one's skin, from the final vertebrae, due south right round to the......erm......you get the picture!

Ok, ok, enough about the strange water features of my body, let's get back to this Mountain challenge then shall we? Well, as I write, it's literally just a few days before the Big Off. Indeed, this may be my final blog, who knows? All the preparations have been made, every little last detail looked into and now all that's required to do is bring in the funds. So, I'm pleased to report that both justgiving websites are now up and running at http://www.justgiving.com/24-hr3peakschallenge for Open Arms International and http://www.justgiving.com/PrimroseHouse3peakschallenge for Primrose House Trust.

Please drop by and donate whatever you can for these 2 great charities. And remember, if you do leave us £5 or more, you get the opportunity to guess how long you think it will actually take us to complete the challenge in Hrs:Mins:Secs. Remember to leave your guess in the message box and the person who gets the closest to our actual completion time will win a one night stay for 2 people, inclusive of Dinner in any English Lakes Hotel. Tempted? You should be, because you can see the hotels here http://www.elh.co.uk/

The Facebook page is being updated regularly http://www.facebook.com/group.php?v=wall&ref=search&gid=10150118264585221 with pictures and more details about the challenge so join us if you can. We'll also be updating the facebook page on the day with regular posts on where we are, how we're doing, and more importantly - how we're feeling! We've managed to secure a handy sized camcorder so expect a video with a difference shortly after the event!

Well, that's just about it for now. Wish us luck, drop a few quid in if you can and thanks for supporting us.

Tim & the 3-peakers

Help! It's taken over my life!

It's a lovely day outside today. The daffodils have finally shown their face, the sun is shining, and there are rather too many people out there showing their mid-riffs who really shouldn't be, if you know what I mean! Actually, fair play to them, why shouldn't they? We're emerging from one of the longest winters in recent history so I say let them hang their pierced pot-bellies out. Show the world that you like one too many chippy teas a week. I might even join them! But on the basis that its still only 9 degrees, I think I'll keep my stomach well and truly hidden, and tucked up nice and warm for the time being. Besides, there's no six-pack there I can tell you. More like a keg of smooth to be honest.

I will say though that this walking malarkey is causing the pounds to drop off. However, just not in the right places I would have ideally liked (had I been given the choice, or got all "Pally" with a plastic surgeon). My legs have always been top of the list to go in to a "Room 101 for unwanted limbs". They've never carried too much weight, be it muscle or fat, and now that the latter form of tissue has now completely disappeared from my lower torso, my legs look like they belong to an anorexic turkey, after a knee-op! And as for trying to get a suntan on them - forget it! My upper-body can burn like a cheap sofa at a pyromaniac's convention. But I can drench my legs in Olive oil, Carrot Oil, even Crude Oil, and they still resemble one of those colours on your Dulux paint chart which is neither White nor Magnolia. (I think the current trendy name for it is "Frosted Dawn" if you were interested in decorating sometime later this month, which I should, but I've kinda got too much on my plate at the moment)

Anyway, I find myself in the familiar and frustrating (to you) territory of waffling again, and about a subject that none of you probably want to hear about or visualise come to think if it, so let's get back on the straight and narrow shall we?

So, this sudden but very welcome change in the climate has brought about a new vigour to the training effort. In the last 6 days I have completed 4 walks and been to the gym twice! Had you said that to me 12 months ago I would have probably stared at you for a while and then asked you what kind of medication you were taking, but a lot can happen in a year it seems. My life has changed beyond recognition. My outlook on everything is different, more positive, less selfish, and I owe most of it to the hypnotic powers of those mountains. It's been a gradual change sure, but the contrasts one can draw by comparing T.Bell circa 2009 to the revised, updated and reduced-emissions model of 2010 are startling! A bit like Nick Clegg really, only with slightly less hair.

There's no doubt the long, harsh winter has been good for training. Thick snow and often treacherous conditions have made the walks more gruelling and challenging, and in a strange way - rather a lot of fun! But with the short days and the sheer effort required for plodding up Helvellyn in sub-zero temperatures through 2 feet of snow, one walk a week was as good as it got. The changing of the clocks and the season has catapulted the enthusiasm in to a whole new ball park and opened up many more windows of opportunity.

Last week for instance, I had the pleasure of entertaining my good friend Niall whom I had not seen in nearly 6 years. So, I took 2 days of annual leave and on one of them I dragged him up Haystacks near Buttermere. Actually, as it transpired he was the one dragging me up as the shear fitness and stride length of this 6'4" monster of a Scotsman soon put any good work I had done to shame. It was only at 1500ft (the point that I'm normally doing my best Darth Vader with Bronchitis impersonation) that he confessed that one of his nicknames during his youth was "Mountain Goat". The sneaky bugger that he is! Good walk though nevertheless.



The next planned walk wasn't until the Sunday, however a very good friend and colleague of mine who shall remain nameless (although her name starts with a "D" and ends in "...eana Chesterton") had been making rumblings about my obsession, and was keen to see what all the fuss was about in "them fells". So, to satisfy her curiosity I took her on Saturday morning to my favourite short leg-stretcher, Helm Crag. She huffed, puffed but persevered through the initial cardio and physical shocks (see blog 2 for further details of expected symptoms) and once perched on the summit outcrop she had her "Epiphany". 24 hours later, and now armed with new boots, socks and breathable walking attire, she was accompanying my sister and myself up 2800ft of Blencathra's slopes, bouncing around like a spring lamb wired up to the mains. Another one converted then!


48 hours after that, and having spent a day in the Lakes on a training course, the pleasant evening weather drew myself, Vanessa and the afore-mentioned nameless colleague back up Helm Crag in an attempt to smash the previous set times for this particular ascent. Needless to say, they did it and what a wonderful feeling it was to be sat on the Lion and the Lamb feeling the last warm rays of the sun on our faces before it sunk gracefully behind the Langdale Pikes for another day.


So the fells are taking over all my spare time at the moment, but the addiction has gone so much further than just causing my television to gather dust. It's taken over my house!


My wardrobes and cupboards are now like the "rejects" store room of a Millets shop. Thick fleeces, thin fleeces, very thin fleeces, summer socks, winter socks, waterproof socks, winter gloves, summer gloves, breathable t-shirts - short-sleeved, long sleeved, zip-collar, no-collar, red, blue, black, green and orange! Walking boots, all over the house and woe-betide you walk in to them when your barefooted and heading to the loo with your eyes closed at 4am (Bloggers compulsory Toilet Humour note coming up, so please skip to next paragraph if you're easily offended) I don't know about you lot, but I've noticed that since the age of 30, the bladder, despite being completely drained before retiring at midnight, still manages to wake me up several hours later with another belly-bulging 4-litre "reserve" of the warm, yellow stuff. Where on earth did this extra liquid come from? Am I a camel? Have I been intravenously-fed whilst dreaming about Blondes and Buggattis? I only had 2 glasses of wine earlier on and surely that should be now making its way down some clay pipe somewhere to the Lancashire coastline! Anyway, it's one of life's mysteries and I've just had to accept it. I do fear now though that my 40's could involve more than one trip to the porcelain throne during the night, and that will drive me clinically insane! After all, it's taken me 6 years to perfect the art of doing the 4am toilet run whilst keeping one eye asleep and the other half-open so I don't break my toes on a size 10 Berghaus Boot! Ok, "toilet tale" over, back to the walking!


Today, 4 of the 5 walkers have been strolling around on the Helvellyn range. (We're down by one unfortunately folks, due to Hannah's work commitments which have prevented her from coming on the training walks, but she's still coming along to help with the driving. Bless you Hannah!)


The Wythburn ascent of this notorious mountain is a calf-cruncher, but a safe one. Most people however opt for the Striding/Swirral Edge ascent to the top. But we're trying our best to avoid any unnecessary dangers in our training regime. Helvellyn has claimed many lives over the years, and we're not about to add any more to it in the name of adrenaline.

The last 3 attempts of Helvellyn have been slightly frustrating affairs, mainly on the account that this magnificent summit chose to stay hidden in thick clouds and snow, and she stubbornly refused to give even the slightest, teasing glimpse of those white-knuckle/brown-trouser edges. Today however, the big man upstairs kept his Cumulonimbus collection well above the peaks so we were rewarded with a 360 degree panorama that made me speechless (yep, it is possible folks). And with the top reached with relative (and surprising) ease, we opted to head south down the ridge and take in 3 more summits as opposed to a quick descent back to the car park. Do remember to have the Ordnance Survey handy though if you're gonna go and do a bit of ridge-rambling. One slight mis-judgement with the internal compass, and one could find oneself miles off course. Been there, done that, got the blisters!

So, it's less than 6 weeks to go now! It's time to wake up and smell the gore-tex! Although, (and I think I can speak on behalf of the whole group here) I think we're ready now! We've got the drivers, we've got the equipment, we've got the fitness, we've even got the post-walk BBQ menu sorted down to the final detail, including which champagne will used to wash down the celebratory sausages at Snowdon's base. It starting to feel quite real now, and I love it!



The justgiving page for Open Arms International http://www.justgiving.com/24-hr3peakschallenge has been updated with some more pictures and details of this fantastic charity, so please pop by and do remember to drop a few quid in won't you? Remember, every minimum £5 donation allows you to guess the time we actually take to complete the challenge, and the winner gets a luxury night stay in a Lake District Hotel with dinner thrown in for good measure. Once again, many thanks to http://www.elh.co.uk/ for their kind support, especially as they are lending us the company minibus for the whole trip!


Frustratingly, we're in a long, drawn-out paper trail with the second sight for Primrose House, but we're hoping to have it up and running before the challenge begins, so hold a few quid back for this one won't you?



Right, off for a bath now, I smell!

Making time

Saturday morning, 6.30am and the mobile phone laying on my bedside table, literally inches from my ear, starts omitting an irritating tune. It's that brief moment of confusion when your brain which has been rudely dragged away from a scrummy dream about Ferrari's and Ferrero Rochers has to make a quick decision - Is someone ringing me? Has there been a major family crisis? Or have I forgot to cancel the alarm? But then once I've realised that there's no such thing as a 4ft nut-covered chocolate and I own a Honda as opposed to a Maranello masterpiece, the reality sinks in. I did set the alarm for 6.30am!

"What in the name of all that's Holy were you thinking Tim?" (I apologise for the blasphemy, but I have conceded the fact that I am slowly morphing in to Victor Meldrew. Well, a strange cross between him and Basil Fawlty of course! )

Oh I remember now! I have a busy day ahead, and just 5 hours earlier after finishing a glass of wine and watching some DVD that I've probably watched far too many times already, I decided that the only way to get a walk in this weekend was to get up at the same time that the sparrow suffers its daily flatulence. I'm conscious that's the second time I have made reference to gastric/gaseous movements in my blogs, but hey, we're British! We love toilet humour! 30 carry-on films can't be wrong! I still say that "Carry on F**ting" would have been Pinewood's Studios most lucrative project, had it been made of course! The sight of Kenneth Connor clenching his nostrils and stating that immortal line - "Ooooh Matron, was that you?" and Barbara Windsor wearing nothing but a bikini and a World War 1 gas mask would surely have embedded itself in to Carry-on folklore! Ok, I'm digressing!

The day could have been so much easier, but as usual, I decided to make it difficult. In an annual tradition, I didn't post my Mother's Day card on time, so that meant a minimum 100-mile round trip to hand-deliver it. Well, I guess the latter "outcome" was the more loving/family-friendly option, so don't give me grief for being dis-organised. I could also have saved the walk until the Sunday, but on the basis that it was the first round of this year's Formula 1 championship, and woe-betide I miss that, it really wasn't an option. And then there was my commitment to help out a friend in Manchester who is making his first movie and rather bravely, he'd cast a part for me and planned to film my "VERY amateur debut" late Saturday afternoon and early Sunday morning. And then there was the haircut appointment at 3pm! (Granted that wouldn't take long!). So, the only way to make time for a walk in this hectic weekend schedule was to slot it in somewhere first thing on Saturday.

So, had I posted the card, watched the Bahrain GP highlights later on the iPlayer, and accepted another week of minimal hair-growth, I could have spent a satisfying, lazy morning on the sofa watching "Dave" (That's the TV channel, NOT my good friend from Manchester by the way!) I'd quite happily watch those back to back Top Gear episodes and I could probably even tell you what strange but hilarious anecdote will be used to introduce The Stig in that particular episode before Clarkson get's to do his "thing". Most of you now will be thinking "Sheesh Tim, Get A Life", but I'm betting that there's a small handful of you out there who are reading this and saying to themselves - "I'm glad I'm not the only one!" I digress! (Again!)

I have a new camera too, a digital SLR would you believe? (I think it was "SLR", could have been JCB or GTL though. No, hang on, that was a model of Renault wasn't it?) Anyway, I'm keen to try it out in the great outdoors. I spent about half an hour the night before carefully unpacking it from its layers of secure wrapping and then about 5 minutes reading the instruction booklet. 4 pages in to a 210 "introduction" book and I've lost the will to live. Surely this isn't necessary and all I need to do to produce a David Bailey classic is to simply aim and press one of these buttons? And there's so many buttons - Portrait, Landscape, Sport, Aperture, Wash, Spin, Mix, Dry! There could be tears and tantrums on the fells today!

My weekends used to start with a cheese-drenched sausage sandwich with HP sauce, but that has since been replaced with a fruit and nut muesli. Sure, it looks like the contents of your local Spar's hoover bag, but its good for a slow release of energy through the morning. So, it's a quick pack of the rucksack. The obligatory Prawn Sandwich on Brown (well, I am a Manchester United fan after all), some Baxter's soup (go for the butternut squash variety, it's delicious) and 2 bottles of lucozade sport in the Camelbak - the definitive walking accessory by the way. And it's just minimal clothing required this morning, as today's chosen peak (and the only one I can possible cram in to a 3 hour window, including travelling time) is Helm Crag, Grasmere, or known more affectionately as the "Lion and the Lamb". At just 1329ft, this is a wonderful, easy-going fell. Yet it was held in the highest affection by Wainwright himself, mainly because of the spectacular topography and rock formations at its summit. This is definitely a walk you can take the whole family, one for a late summer's afternoon, or in my case, a deeply-satisfying early morning stretch of the legs. And with that lunar-esque summit, a potentially great place for some piccies on the new washing machine.....erm, I mean Camera!

I remember my first time up Helm Crag on a cold, autumnal afternoon with waves of driving rain and sleet pounding my face. Back then it took me the best part of an hour to reach the famous summit. This morning however, conscious of my busy schedule, it takes me 28 minutes. Now, I'm not bragging here, and I certainly don't ever want to be one of those people who make a big song and dance about the fact they, for example "did Great Gable" in 70 minutes, in blizzard conditions, with a sprained ankle, whilst carrying a 4-man tent, and an 8lb baby on their back etc etc etc. You know the sort of person I'm talking about here. If you've done something, they've done it quicker, bigger, more expensive etc. There's a name for them I'm sure, but as this is a family/eco/fox-friendly, non-bio blog I'll refrain from any further harsh statements.

My point here is that with perseverance and regular exercise, the difference in one's fitness can change dramatically. Don't get me wrong, I'm not making myself out to be some kind of ultra-healthy freak here. I started from a base level of fitness that could only be compared to a diabetic sloth, with a thyroid problem. So, the only way was ever going to be up!

The walk was as wonderful as ever, the clouds staying a couple of thousand feet above the summits giving a me and the dozens of people already up here a crystal clear panorama of central Lakeland. I'll not bore you with details of how the photography project went. Needless to say, I think I need some personal tuition and offers are most welcome. All other weekend objectives were met and I felt content on Sunday night that I had made time. Time for my family, my friends, for me, and more importantly for the 3-peaks challenge.

Speaking of which, the first justgiving website for Open Arms International is up and running. http://www.justgiving.com/24-hr3peakschallenge The second site for our second chosen charity is going to take a little while longer as we have to go through a long, drawn-out paper trail to get Primrose House registered with justgiving and giftaid. So, please donate whatever you can, but do leave a little bit back for Primrose.

Training is going well for all parties concerned. Sarah's training last week however seems to have swamped any efforts put in by the others in the group. She's also training for a 10k run coming up soon in East Yorkshire and has regularly been doing 5k's in the gym with the treadmill on "ascent". This week however she did the full 10k on ascent, but is now battling with some shin splints which have re-emerged to frustrate her. She'll persevere though and I'm sure she'll stroll through both challenges with the minimum of effort.

I must take this opportunity though to thank some people. The facebook group members for their support, of which there are now 125 of them. English Lakes Hotels for donating the competition prize (details of which are on the justgiving page) and for publishing the blogs on their own website, my sister for giving me the belief that I can actually do this challenge, and of course the fellow 3-peakers for all their hard work and effort so far.

Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting and let's all make a difference and raise money for our great charities http://www.openarmsinternational.com/ & http://the-holistic-centre.co.uk/content/view/3/5/

Tim & The 3-peakers

Sometimes, you just have to ask yourself "Why?"

Saturday night, and it's the aftermath of another walk. This one felt a little different though to last week's disorientating snow-scramble up Helvellyn. Sure, it was fun, scenic, peaceful - all the usual stuff I look for in a good Lakeland Trek. But this one was......well......erm......kinda.....it's hard to put my finger on it. Oh, I've got it! It was "5 HOURS OF FEMUR-BENDING, PELVIC-ERODING, METATARSAL-MINCING TORTURE!"

But do you know what? Now that my body has been submerged for 1 hour in a deep bath consisting of 5% water and 95% radox, and my heart-rate no longer sounds like the kind of frantic drum beats that can often be heard bellowing from those Vauxhall Corsa's dressed up in Halford's accessories, I can still look back on today's experience and pigeon-hole it into the "Yeh, that was a good day" box. I like that box, and I think I need to get a bigger one.

So, before I go off on a random tangent and start waffling about today's walk and the plight of the ozone layer, (and my colleagues and friends will tell you that I REALLY can waffle! In fact, I waffle so much, I come with choice of 2 toppings), I guess I must address the question posed in the title of this blog.

Well, I'll start with the physical side-effects first, and most of them, I do warn you now, are not pretty! First and foremost, it's the pain! Starting in your lungs, your ever-increasing pulse seems to accelerate wave after wave of muscle-stretching anguish to every fibre and nerve-ending in your body. Granted, I'm sure this doesn't happen to everyone, especially those "zero-fat" lunatics who actually run up mountains for fun, but I think I represent the average person here. I like a beer or two, enjoy a slab of red-meat when presented with the opportunity. But the thought of spending my life looking like the character from the pepparani adverts just to avoid mountain-induced pain isn't tempting! And I'd probably be as angry as pepparani-guy if I ate the diet these guys probably have to eat to stay that fit, and that thin! Leaves and moss probably!

The aches and pains can stay with you for days, the blisters even longer! And for anyone thinking there's an ounce of glamour in this pastime, forget it! You sweat....a lot! The journey upwards is a constant battle with the perspiration ducts. You start off with 4 layers because you've checked the weather forecast and it looks a little ropey. And then you start the ascent.....and then you turn into an onion! Before you know it, you're peeling off every sweat-drenched layer until you realise that you're actually walking in your Damart thermal underwear, and let's face it, it's no Ann Summers is it? You reach the summit, it's flippin freezing, so you put all the creased clothes that have been crammed in to your woefully small rucksack back on again, along with the obligatory woolly hat. And that hat will truly re-shape even the most rigid, wire-like of hair do's. I'm fortunate not to have a well-stocked barnet, but I have seen hair-styles on those mountains that could only be likened to the aftermath of a Bonfire.......after the Fire Brigade have emptied 1500 litres of water on it!

As for the call of mother nature, well, I think you can use your own imagination there.

So, you're in agony. Your hair looks like a war-zone, you've tinted the snow yellow in front of your sister, and you now have to put the washing machine on before a rainbow forms above your laundry pile. So, I ask myself again......"Why?"

Well, let's turn to the chemical argument, and by this I mean let's venture into your frozen ear and dig deep into the grey matter. Here I'm glad to say, it all starts getting a whole lot better. Let's talk neurotransmitters. Serotonin is released with the elation and happiness of accomplishing a mountain peak. Not just once, but probably every time you recant the story of how good it felt to stand at the summit and gaze upon that fantastic view. No doubt the great outdoors and 6 hours of sun exposure will produce melatonin which helps keep the happy levels above any "danger levels" and avoid those winter "blues". And then there's endorphins which are released when actually doing exercise. Again, bringing about a natural "high" and a feeling of elation. In short, we're starting to feel good.

So, you look like a dinner that the dog turned its nose up to, but hey, you're happy! And that happiness stays so much longer than the aching muscles, blisters and the sweaty/mossy aroma on your Berghaus fleece. Actually, that last part is not true, so just deal with it and buy a can of lynx.

And then there's the "experience", and here I could waffle on for ever and even add a third or fourth flavour to my toppings menu. Experiences evoke memories, and they stay with you forever, and no bio-detergent is ever going to shift them! The changing scenery, the skies, the weather - they all add to the richness of the outing and gives you plenty of waffle-fodder for years to come. It can be a hugely sociable experience, spending hours with a good friend or family member with no interruptions so one can talk until your hearts content. Today for instance we covered relationships, favourite foods and even the funny side of flatulence. And that's quite a subject! You occasionally come across other walkers, and what a smashing bunch of people they all are! Always up for a chat, and happy to share the tales of the mountain, past and present. After all, they are here for the same reasons you are. However, every now and again you will come across a large group of walkers, all of them keenly strolling their way across the baron, steep fellsides, except for the one person who's 60ft behind them and by the look on their face (which can only be likened to a clenched fist), one can tell that they would rather be gorging on a Bic Mac and watching the Hollyoaks Omnibus on this fine Sunday morning. That person clearly isn't enjoying the experience, and probably volunteered themselves for something that sounded like a fun stroll in the park. But I'm sure they will still get the "chemical" thing, and I bet they will be back for more.

But you don't even have to walk with someone to get these benefits. Many people, myself included will take a solitary stroll, deliberately choosing walks where I know I won't bump into dozens of fellow ramblers. Sometimes, you just need a little "me" time, a chance to think and digest the worries of the world and put life back into clear perspective. It's not uncommon to meet perhaps just 1 or 2 people over a 6-hour stroll over certain Lakeland peaks. And who said the Lake District was congested?

I think I'm waffling now, but hopefully you get the picture. In short, it's exercise, but in magical surroundings and who wants to hear about your 90-minute treadmill work out?

So, I guess I should briefly cover today's walk for the benefit of our anonymous solitary reader who wants to know. Well, today's route was, on paper, a medium/hard walk taking in 4 peaks along the long Helvellyn range. However, the Ordnance Survey didn't recognise the official route up to Calfhow Pike, and I don't blame them. It was a full-on slog, with more silent swearing than I've probably ever done before. I thought the west flank of Kirk Fell was tough, but this was in a whole new ball park. Throw in some ice, constantly changing temperatures and the knowledge that this ascent is only taking you to the lowest of today's summits, and you've got yourself a classic ridge walk - a bucket load of pain to get to the ridge plateau, then mile after mile of gentler, undulating slopes which swallow up the "Wainwrights" effortlessly. Superb!

On a closing note, I see we're up to 81 members in our facebook group now which is fantastic! I'm sure you've all got friends who would like to support our group and its causes so please invite as many people as you can. We're relying on you.

The whole group is meeting up soon to finalise details and really get this thing in to top gear. We'll have our justgiving.com link up soon and also full details on the fantastic competition where all people who donate get the chance to guess the exact time it will take us to do the challenge, and possibly win a superb prize!

Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting and let's all make a difference and raise money for our great charities http://www.openarmsinternational.com/ & http://the-holistic-centre.co.uk/content/view/3/5/

The 3-peakers

It's got to start somwhere!

So, it's the witching hour, March 3rd 2010 and yesterday I created a Facebook page for our 24-hour 3-peaks Charity Challenge. The initial over-excitable idea once flirted over a cup of tea with colleagues at work is now really starting to take serious momentum. Time to wake up and smell the Bovril Tim!

Blog 1, and I guess this first encounter should really tell you, the blog-reader (is there a "proper" term for them? If so, then please let me know because I really need to be kept on the straight and narrow with this type of thing!) where this whole crazy idea started and where it initially intended to go.

Bit of background first I guess. I'm Cumbrian born and bred, and like so many of us, I never truly really appreciated what was on my doorstep. Sure, we spent family days in the Lakes when I was young; Inflatable "Woolworths" dinghy's on the shores of Ullswater, my Uncle Ian (and his set of small, black & white books about the Lake District, but more of that later) lifting me effortlessly on to his shoulder's as we rambled though Kentmere. Then there was camping with scouts in the cold, dense forests of Lowther, and of course the compulsory school geology field-trips into deepest Lakeland to see how Continental drift and Igneous intrusions had forged this magnificent landscape. (zzzzzzzzz - How on earth did I remember that?)

Did I appreciate it back then? Well, maybe I did, but only as much as a kid or a teenager could ever expect to. Hey, my time was dedicated to BMX bikes, accumulating a music collection to annoy my parents, and staring endlessly at a poster of the famous page-3 girl, Maria Whittaker on my bedroom wall. But times moved on, and so did my career and years spent moving from county to county, from Berkshire to Perthshire, and several places in between.

But in winter 2003, I moved back to the North-west, to northern Lancashire, and for me, as close to my original home as I would probably like to be. I was nearer to my family, and my good friends in Manchester, and of course the county of my birth, and the beautiful district it holds so proudly in its boundary, like an artist clutching their definitive masterpiece.

During the years and my various career moves, the Lake District had grown in to something different in my mind, something to be proud of and brag about to colleagues, something familiar and yet mysterious. And here I was, back on its doorstep, and eager to forge a new relationship with it, minus the woggles, text books and acne of course.

The first 2 or 3 years were spent re-discovering the lakes, mainly from behind a steering wheel I must confess though! And then one september afternoon in 2007 whilst camping at Parkfoot on the shores of Ullswater, I convinced Sarah Garton that we should take a casual stroll up one of those ominously beautiful peaks. Armed with nothing but a bottle of Evian and a Twix Bar (which were consumed within about 30 minutes), we headed up the Glenridding ascent of Helvellyn. No stepping stones here then. Sod the "Helm Crags" and "Haystacks", let's go for a full on attempt of Lakeland's most notorious summit. Perhaps Wainwright was spot on when he said of this mountain - "....it is the objective and ambition of the tourist who does not normally climb". I think if the great man knew what "LOL" meant, he would've probably slipped this annoying abbreviation in to his pictorial guides as a sly dig at every man or woman who felt the pain this under-estimated mountain can bring to the novice, wet-eared walker.

I'm not going to bore you with the gory details, but one can only describe that experience as an assault on every sense my body feels! "Shock and Awe" hardly seems strong enough in this instance. But this was a defining moment nonetheless, and it told me, in a language as blunt as the great Cumbrian dialect itself, that :- a) I love this place, and b) Thou's not in grand fettle Tim!

Two and bit years have now past since that sweat-drenched, lung-stretching, muscle-breaking, but more importantly - life changing day! Gone are the sleeveless Nike shirts, holiday shorts and market-leading chocolate bars. They have been replaced by Berghaus fleeces, Ronhill thermal layers, Camelbak ruck-sacs and Bananas. My love for the Lakeland mountains is serious, and to truly appreciate them, my attire had to step up to the mark too!

So when English Lakes Hotels announced it's commitment to Open Arms International http://www.openarmsinternational.com/ at the same time I joined the board of trustees for Primrose House http://the-holistic-centre.co.uk/content/view/3/5/ the answer to that ever-burning question - "How can I do my bit to help?" became as clear as a mountain-top view on a cloudless day! I've got to do the 3 peaks!

My sister had successfully done the challenge the previous year, but somehow I never felt I could rise to that kind of challenge. After all, she's been casually trotting up Sca Fell Pike and various other "Top 10" mountains for several years now! But my love of this pastime, combined with the desire to make a difference for those less fortunate than myself, led me to make a commitment. And now in my 30's, I really am conscious of my "101 things to do before I die", and this one ranks right up there with the best of them! And let's face it, who's gonna trust me with a Bugatti Veyron? Let's get realistic here!

So, here we are in March 2010, 3 months before the big "off", and we have now assembled a small but highly dedicated clan of 6 volunteers willing to give up hours, neigh, day after day of their precious free time to train hard, prepare, and actually "do" Britain's biggest mountain challenge.

As I sit here now, I feel a multitude of emotions about the whole thing. I'm excited sure! But I'm also nervous and apprehensive. Dazed and confused, Motivated, but melancholy. Is this the usual cocktail of feelings a "3-peaker" experiences? Maybe, maybe not. But we're going to do it, and do it properly. We're going to raise money for two great causes. I'm in no doubt that despite how much training we do between now and June, we're going to go way beyond any physical boundaries we may have previously set as our tolerable limit. I'm sure there will be sweat, tears and blood, but hey, the latter doesn't bother me on the basis we have one of Britain's best paramedics in tow.

So, I'm conscious that this first blog has very much been "my story", but this whole thing isn't about me. It's about a group of volunteers, who have made a commitment to raise money for two great charities, doing something they love! Well, saying that, you'd find that statement hard to believe if you heard the foul language that can emit from one's mouth when tackling a particularly steep and frustrating mountain path. I get the buzz from reaching the summit, others in the group get there's from the adrenaline-fuelled rush of stretching one's physical limit. We're all different, we do different things, in different ways, in different places. But we are bound by our charitable goals and a love of the Lakeland mountains.

So, if you're still reading this, "Congratulations!" You're either our biggest fan, or more probably, you've got bugger all else to do and "Corry" isn't on tonight. Stay tuned reader!