Testing out my phone to first of all see if we can post to to the blog, and if we can post photos from it. Uploading photos doesn’t seem to work, so no beautiful picture of our spork collection unfortunately :(
Edit: Here are the sporks as promised - Phill
Phill has kindly (!) asked me to be his and Heley’s ’emergency support co-ordinator’ and internet dogsbody – roughly translated, to be on standby if anything goes wrong in them hills, and to keep everyone updated on how they’re getting along when they’re unable to update the site themselves. Sounds simple enough, yet my panic-stricken face betrays the knowledge that he has picked entirely the wrong person for the job. Anyhow, the votes have been cast – one, Phill’s. And I’m it. So this is a brief introduction; mainly my first experiences of the club they’re trekking 380 miles for, and are leaving me in the proverbial shit for.
I went to DC Boxing for the first time last week. Followed by a second time. If first impressions are anything to go by, I was and am impressed. I attended as a complete beginner, and as one of only three females that night (one being the other girl I’d dragged along). I was understandably intimidated. Surprisingly however, and much to DC’s credit, somehow the club manages to absorb you. The atmosphere, due primarily to the coaches, and as a result the people, is strangely friendly, despite a lack of much chat. The two giddy beginners were taken aside after the warm up to be taught the basics by a smiling and reassuring David, and instructions not to call him Dave (although it seems that everyone does..?) We rejoined the group later, a little better informed of how to punch properly, even if we were a long way off delivering anything resembling a jab. Not to mention my stubbornly static feet. Sweated out the end on ropes and bags, and attempts to develop guts of steel. Left that night feeling excited about returning.
The second session arrives, but I left my balls at home, fearing all the same things as before, despite my good impressions. Turn up at Phill’s in the rain, thinking that the weather will mean people don’t turn up, and I’ll have less to fear. Wrong. I think the numbers may have been double! Maybe that’s more telling than anything else I’ve said. People love the club, and I can see why. I fell out of a tree last night, twisted my ankle running through bushes in a failed attempt to miss the sprinkler, but it’s kind of like the rain.. not enough to keep me away.. :)
So this is who Phill has left everything to in his absence. I wish him and Heley a safe and successful trip, and may my services need not be required! I wish them even more luck if they are. Trying to locate somewhere suitable for them to spend the night by way of coordinates and googlemaps as daylight fades and panic sets in, when Phill’s dodgy knee can’t hobble any further and Heley’s all but throttling him anyway, is something of a responsibility. Shame they left it to someone who can’t tell a mountain from a swamp, ‘cos they all look like squiggles on a map to me! :s
Last weekend Heley and I had our very own first aid training. We managed to wrangle ourselves a private lesson with a retired first aid instructor. Apparently the St John’s iPhone app and re-runs of House do not count as first aid training.
We chose the lesson over a “First Aid at Work” course because the wilds provide their own distinct problems. Phone signal and conveniently placed hospitals are often a requirement when doing a first aid course. Heley and I won’t always have that luxury. There are parts of the route that for all intents and purposes may as well be marked “here be dragons”. Basically, we’re working on the principle that anything that can possibly go wrong will just so happen to go wrong at the worst possible moment. It’s not paranoia if the hills really are out to get you.
A lot of our questions were based around intense and terrifying emergencies, for example what to do when your shin is neatly aligned at ninety degrees to itself. We asked when to stop and whistle, when to make notes of GPS co-ordinates and go for help, and when to just flail around and panic.
There are other injuries to worry about though. Even minor day-to-day injuries need special attention during a 380 mile walk. A blister on the foot, a cut on the hand, a slight sprain or strain: each can pose a problem along the way. Improper management can easily lead to problems further down the line. Failing to complete the trip because one of us has gangrene would be a tad embarrassing.
The first aid course itself was entertaining. I was declared unofficially dead whilst Heley was putting me in the recovery position; apparently I wasn’t breathing loudly enough. I’m in serious trouble if I lose consciousness at any point during this journey.
On the other hand, Heley is likely to tie her own bandages in future. I had particular problems with the arm slings. It’s not just that my bandaging is untidy, it’s also ineffectual.
Heley feels the cold easily, so we learnt about the risk of her stealing my warmest clothes to prevent hypothermia. I go from white to bright red at only a hint of sun, so Heley may get the chance to pour cold water over my head. I just have to hope she doesn’t choose to hold my head under the water as she clearly has issues recognising whether someone is breathing.
Overall, we learnt a lot and laughed a little more. Hopefully we’ll get a chance to practise a few things before we set off. Even more hopefully we won’t have to use much of what we learnt. The departure date is rapidly approaching and once again we are a little more prepared.
This week we’ve invited Boris from DC Boxing to give us a few words from the gym floor. Boris may be relatively new to the club, but he is already proving to be a great asset to the club. His commitment and constant enthusiasm serve to remind us why we are putting ourselves through 380 miles of Scottish weather for DC Boxing, so without further ado…
My name is Boris and I’m one of the boxers at DC Academy. With 35 years I’m too old and probably not even talented enough for competitive boxing, nevertheless and though I only started four months ago, I feel very much at home and accepted in the club. There is a really strong sense of togetherness in the gym, probably because everyone feels equally pushed to the limit after a hard training session, regardless how different we may be outside the club.
The challenges are always changing. Right at my first night I thought the coach would be joking when towards the end of the session he asked for 12, then 11, then 10, etc… press-ups and I could hardly do 10. It’s still not my favourite, but now I can do it. And while I just started the training to complement my fitness programme as a runner, I soon realised there is so much more to boxing than hitting a bag. It’s the precise orchestration of technique, speed and power combined with an incredible need for stamina that makes boxing such a varied sport. I think this is where DC Academy has a great advantage: Ivan and the other coaches want to make sure that we understand how to put it all together and practice until it works; they make it clear that just sparring alone doesn’t cut the mustard if you want to be a good boxer.
Boxing and boxing training can teach you a lot, also about yourself. Your limits but also possibilities. In that respect it is probably no different to martial arts. Talent and physical ability aside, some key ingredients are discipline, dedication, and commitment. Hard work. Self-control. Sounds familiar? Of course. Good old values we should try to teach children. It always makes me happy when I arrive at the gym and the Juniors are still pounding the bags. They might not want to see it that way (hey, we’re talking about a bunch of teenagers), but this is where I feel DC Academy makes a difference at a time when the councils close down youth centres and other facilities. The club gives these youngsters something to do, provides them with an opportunity to identify and overcome their limits, to become confident. And I rather have that happening in a bout than bullying others in the streets.
Boris' Shed (Boris not included)
The club’s current location is best described as a shed, and although that has its own charm to it, there is a lot of room for improvement. We’re not talking about luxury. We’re talking about necessities; a new ring, a few more bags, even gloves or skipping ropes. The membership fees are small to allow everyone to enter the club, and I think this is an important and positive difference to more exclusive venues. It is thanks to the great engagement of people like Phill and Heley that we can now plan ahead and save towards a new ring. I’m happy to do my bit, and I hope I could convince some of you to click on that yellow little ‘Donate’ button on the right and make a small contribution towards DC Academy.
Last Thursday we set out on our final trip to test out all the gear we plan to take to Scotland and practice walking on the kind of terrain we’re likely to encounter. Setting out on Thursday morning and returning on Sunday afternoon, this was a good opportunity to learn important navigation and camping skills, and find out what walking in hilly areas is like, given the general lack of inclines around Cambridge. This was also my first time visiting Wales and it was nice to see some of the pretty parts of the area, making for a welcome change to the fairly monotonous scenery that we encountered on our trip to Ely.
Thursday
All packed and stocked up with food, we drove to our starting point at the bottom of Llangynog hill. The first part of the day, to our first break at the waterfall, was very pleasant with nice walking and views.
Things became a little less pleasant, however, as we headed away from well-walked footpaths and onto the heathland on top of the next few hills. Heather isn’t the nicest thing to walk on, and I ended up falling down crevices several times along the ridge. Things got better as we returned to marked footpaths and more even ground over the other side of the hills. Typically, I then twisted my ankle on the flat footpath, after surviving the heather mostly intact. Given my ankle and problems with Phill’s knee, we decided to change route and head for a nearby spot Phill knew would be suitable for camping. This turned out to be a sensible decision as we ended up arriving at around 9pm, just as the light was fading, so probably wouldn’t have made it to the planned camp before dark. It’s good to know that we’re willing to change plans if we need to, rather than just ploughing on regardless of the situation. We then quickly set up the camp and fire, cooked dinner and settled down for bed.
Friday
As I found out during the Ely trip, I’m not great at sleeping in a sleeping bag, and this was another restless night. A combination of the lack of sleep and going slightly off-course led a tired first half of the day. I soon woke up as the footpath we were following to Lake Vyrnwy disappeared, and walking along (and through) the river became the easiest path to take. We made it through in one piece, apart from some fairly soggy feet on my part, however, and rejoined the footpath for the final stretch towards the lake.
After a break for lunch, we continued along the route to our planned camping site. The afternoon walking was less eventful than in the morning, but enjoyable nonetheless. The route passed by quickly and we arrived at our destination by late afternoon, giving us plenty of time to set up the tent, make a fire and cook dinner. Camping next to the waterfall was great for the scenery, but not so great for the accompanying midges. Even with head nets on they were becoming a nuisance and any bit of exposed skin was being attacked, so we eventually fled to the tent for the night.
Saturday
Another sleepless night and the return of the midges in the morning meant I really wasn’t happy and struggled for the first half of the day. Being incredibly tired did have it’s advantages, though, and I managed to zone out and plod along for a large part of the distance we covered. Seeing the lake near the spot we camped at on the first night was a huge relief as it meant we had almost reached our destination for the day. The last couple of miles passed by in no time, and we both were very glad to arrive at the camp site, knowing that the hard part of the trip was over. The feelings of misery in the morning were (mostly) forgotten after an enjoyable evening back at the camp, complete with a campfire, rainbows, and no midges.
Sunday
After a much better start to the day, possibly due to a better night of sleep, or the knowledge that we were on the last leg of the journey, I was feeling more positive about the trip. A short descent back to Llangynog, followed by a nice relaxed walk with Karl on a route around a couple more hills with lovely views, was a nice reminder that walking can be enjoyable. This was a good end to a trip which I found challenging and tough at several points, and had definite highs and lows.
It’s fair to say that I learnt a lot this trip – both in terms of useful skills, and in what to expect on the trip in Scotland. And that there are lots of sheep in Wales.Pleasingly, I didn’t struggle too much with the walking, so don’t have many concerns about the physical side of the trip. Sleeping, or lack of sleep, is my main concern at the moment, but that can hopefully be fixed after getting used to being in a sleeping bag. Or by a week or so of sleep deprivation.
Just the last few preparations to go now, then we’re off on the real thing…