Looking to the sky to save me

Ahh, back home now after enduring one of my least favourite domestic chores - The dreaded trip to the supermarket at 6pm on a Monday! It's got to be right up there with acute dental pain in terms of pleasurable experiences in life.

I don't know what it is about this particular time of day, but it never fails to be an overload on my senses, and ultimately my patience and mental sanity (what remains anyway). So, apologies in advance, but I'm going to get it off my chest, and trust me, there is a mountain-related point to this latest rant.

First hurdle to get over, is locating the generous car parking space. Not easy when drivers of certain over-sized and over-priced German saloon cars think it's their god-given right to park at a 37 degree angle to the white lines, thus having the domino effect of putting the 3 spaces either side out of sync. Now, as a Virgo, this grinds me. If you're gonna park, do it properly for Pete's sake! (Never met "Pete", but I've argued a lot on his behalf through my life). And it has to be a "generous" space as I have no intention of adding any more dints to my beloved car door than I already have. If the selfish car-door openers continue at the rate they are, mine's going to have more pimples than a post-acne teenager. You may drive a beat-up old Volvo made of cast-iron and granite, but I love my wheels and have work damned hard keeping it looking smart and blemish-free, so have a little courtesy when exiting your 2-tonne slab of steel and rust.

Once parked, it's the dangerous task of getting past the obligatory Half-Rottweiler/Half-Pitbull genetically modified mongrel that's tied up with towing-rope to the bicycle rack at the shop entrance. Wearing Axl Rose's belt around it's neck, and probably boasting an ASBO or two, this 4-legged lump of muscle, fangs and saliva will yap and omit relentless barking-based profanities at every would-be shopper entering the store until it's owner (probably not a member of the W.I) returns with a 4-pack of extra strong lager and 3 litres of value-brand cider. And what's the betting that "Tyson" will have his waterbowl topped up with snake-bite later this evening, thus amplifying the canine's aggression further still?

The shopping is by comparison, a relatively painless affair. Well, it is until Sainsbury's decide to mess with my head and have a random "re-organisation" of their store, thus completely destroying my carefully planned mission in to supermarket no-mans land. In particular, I've noticed that my favourite basket filler - King prawns, are subject to more re-locations than most foodstuffs, and next week it wouldn't surprise me at all to find them in the tinned veg section, hiding discreetly between the un-salted Petits Pois and the Fairtrade Chantenay Carrots.

The last deadly test is of course "checkout". It starts with a frantic over-taking/under-taking sprint from the Frozen Food aisle to the "Basket-only" lane (I don't do weekly "Big Shops"). Then it's ducking and weaving past all the trolley-pushers gawping lifelessly at the "end-of-aisle" promotions, wondering (for instance) if the half price Duracell batteries can truly be justified in this week's shopping budget. Once past them, it's the life or death split-decision that is :- "Which of the 2 lanes is the shortest?" Of course, the shortest doesn't necessarily mean the fastest, however I've yet to absorb this well-known fact in to my grey matter. So, once stuck in a queue which moves in glacial time, stuck behind more "faffers" who can't locate their Nectar card, and having resisted the temptation to switch lanes by stealth, one is faced with several minutes of pondering and people watching. It's at this point, that everything comes back in to perspective. Here, the sensory overload truly begins.

With my eyes tonight I can see mild panic, frustration, impatience, confusion, dis-allusion and the odd glimmer of happiness in this sea of retail hell. With my nose, I can smell fresh bread, glade plug-ins, the old man standing behind me, the young woman on her iPhone in front of me, and the faint hint of evaporated floor-cleaner emerging from besides the yellow wet floor sign located at the bottom end of the dairy aisle. But it's the sounds that stir me the most. "Beep", Arguments, "Beep", Bag-fumbling, "Beep", Tanoy announcements, "Beep", "Enter your pin please", "Beep", Tyson barking again, "Beep", "You've forgotten the Tea Bags", "Beep"........and so it goes on!

And it was precisely then, just then in this mine-field of man-made techno-noises and mildly-subdued hysteria that I'm catapulted back to just over 24 hours ago, sat on the sun-drenched slopes of Blencathra, towering above the daunting outline of Sharp Edge, listening to.........the deafeningly beautiful sound of absolute silence! There we were, 4 sweaty, muddy souls staring calmly to the west, hypnotised in to utter speechlessness by the sheer silence of this magical moment. No wind, no traffic noise, no conversation. Just pure nothingness! And it was wonderful! And for the cherry on the cake - a majestic fully-grown Raven homed in to view and the noiseless serenity was temporarily broken up by the gentle flapping noise as the black-feathered beauty flapped its wings effortlessly through the still, Cumbrian air.

Now, this was a first for me! Sure, I've enjoyed "pure silence" before. But to actually hear the beating of a bird's wings, and from about 30ft away, well, this was all new territory for me. And this isn't just about my hearing ability! (or lack of it!) Some of you well know that I'm a tad "Mutton and Jeff" and I make no secrets about that. The left side "radar" was never commissioned from day one. That's a fact! And the right one kinda works, but only to a certain degree. Perhaps it was built by the militant, striking British Leyland workers of the early 1970's? The biological equivalent of a Triumph TR-7. Looks ok, but doesn't really work on a day to day basis! Regardless of the Van Gogh undertones, I treasure what I hear, and that fleeting, beating noise will stay with me forever.

Sunday's walk was a glorious one! Four of us, all of which are committed to climbing Kilimanjaro in 2011, albeit via 2 separate organised charity treks, making our way effortlessly across the various summit ridges of this much-loved mountain. Stan and Carl are signed up to attempt Kili in July, whereas Nichola and myself have another 2 months to wait before we get our teeth and boot-treads stuck in to Africa's highest peak. Today was also Nichola's first "real" Lakeland mountain ascent, and I have to say, having previously introduced many of my non-cumbrian friends to the realities of fell-walking, "the girl done good!" The new boots she purchased no more than 24 hours prior to this ascent were strong and true, and I'm pretty sure she'll be keen to "muddy" them up again at the next given opportunity. On the descent, we soaked up a few more peaceful moments at Scales Tarn in the shadows of Sharp Edge, and here, I think Nichola truly fell in love with Lakeland.

It looks like spring has finally sprung. The days of wading through 3ft snow drifts and walking without fear of ice-induced injuries look like they're well and truly behind us. (Although I secretly adore Lakeland under a white blanket). What lies ahead is longer days, warmer temperatures and endless scope for exploring the un-spoiled corners of this great county. The training for Kili has well and truly begun!

I guess I must take the opportunity now to promote our superb charity http://www.childrentoday.org.uk/ who have been superb thus far in preparing us for the trek in September. All 3 of us doing the Kili-climb this Autumn had the pleasure of taking part in another one of their organised events in mid February, this time walking over a very different type of terrain. You'll see what I mean here

http://www.flickr.com/photos/spudda73/5495605106/in/set-72157626065538093/lightbox/

You can follow all our progress via our Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=10150118264585221&ref=ts and of course, I'll be tweeting on a regular basis from ground level to summit-tops. So if you want to follow my regular updates, you'll find me here http://twitter.com/#!/Spudda73

Right, that's enough for tonight! Thanks for putting up with me, and whether you're doing it for charity or not, get out there and walk! It's good for the soul!

Tim & the Kili-crew

Here we go again!

Almost a year has passed since I sat on this very sofa, with the same over-heating laptop, probably drinking the same Chilean "Buy 3 for £10" red wine, watching the same episode of Friends on E4, when I decided to do my first ever blog! Or, as it was eventually to be known - "A licence for Tim to take his endless waffling and opinionated, controversial thoughts online"

The reason? Well, I was trying to create some kind of extra interest to last year's challenge which was, (just in case the recession and OPEC has wiped out your memory as well as your bank account), the 24-hour 3-peaks charity challenge. Or, at the risk of putting you all through it again - http://3peakscharitychallenge.blogspot.com/2010/03/its-got-to-start-somwhere.html.

So it is with a sense of pride that I can sit here, with a belly-full of Balti and a head-full of timeless "Chandler-isms" that I can say "Been there, done that". (Oh, and "Could I BE any more proud?"

The aftermath of that epic trek was a glorious one. So much to gloat about, so many stories - the tears, tantrums and M74 traffic management systems (Don't get me started again!). But the best feeling of all was the double satisfaction that it was "mission accomplished" and our 2 nominated charities got a bundle of cash to carry on their great work.

It should have been the perfect ending to a perfect year of preparation. But, (and there's always a "But"), it left with me a sense of wanting more. A deep-rooted feeling that what me and my fellow walkers had achieved was great, but we could do better. A bit like a "B minus" on your school report, an MP3 rather than an Ipod, a Burton's suit rather than a Hugo Boss, a Sirloin steak rather than a Fillet! Ok, you get the picture! So inevitably I was going to crave an I-tunes down-loadable slab of Beef which would give me a glorious, "stick-it-in-a-gold-frame" Grade A......with a silk lining......and a posh bag!

So, here we go again! And this time, it's BIG! And by "BIG" I mean,....erm,.... well, really really really BIG! Bigger than the Barclay's Bonus Scheme, bigger than BP's list of enemies in the Gulf of Mexico, bigger even than Stephen Fry's list of twitter-disciples. Actually, I do have a tendency to exaggerate, but hey, I think you're picking up on my over-excitement here.

And "Big" to a fell-walker is that 19,340ft lump of Volcanic Terra-Firma lying, rather obscurely, in the heart of Africa. Yep, it's "Kiliman-Fearn-Cotton-Jaro!" The world's largest free-standing mountain and surely the "Ultimate Challenge" for any fell-walker who has no intention of becoming a permanent ice-sculpture on the North East face of Everest. Conquered by many including, let's face it, Chris Moyles, this magnificent Tanzanian oxygen-thief is worshipped by altitude-gainers the world over and it's mere name conjures up feelings which make the 3-peaks challenge sounds like a mere stroll in the Safari park.

Perhaps it was fate that led me to be sat one fine Autumnal day last year next to Liz Oakes, from http://www.childrentoday.org.uk/ and after the obligatory pleasantries and introductions, she revealed to me that she'd just returned from a successful week-long ascent of "Kili". I was hooked, enthralled, excited, (over excited to be honest) and poor Liz was tortured for the next 2 hours by my endless questions about the African peak. "Is it easy?", "Can anyone do it", "What's altitude sickness like" and "I don't care how much I gotta raise, sign me up".

And so, after another much calmer meeting later that week during which I didn't perspire with excitement at all, (Right Guard works on Foreheads too!) I was left holding an application form. A piece of paper which, if I filled it out, would commit myself to joining the elite club of people who can proudly say "I've done Kili ya know". And even better, I get the chance to support a charity that ticks all my boxes! Job's a good 'un!

Fast-forward several weeks and now we have 3 of us ready to undertake this glorious challenge. My sister Amanda (who also had Kili on her "Bucket List") and the effervescent Nichola Harrison, an energetic and constantly bubbly colleague from Lancaster House who had bravely signed up for the challenge on her own (or so she thought), completely oblivious to the fact that she was going to have to endure 7 days of my torturous company. My heart goes out to her!

This is just the start. The beginning of several months of training, preparation, fund-raising, promoting and, (I'm afraid it's part of the whole package) - Blogging! It's going to be an adventure, a life-changing experience I'm sure, a physical challenge way beyond anything I could possibly dream of. But, just like 12 months ago, the belief is there. And without that, the hopes and aspirations come a cropper at the first hurdle. I don't do failure, and I know I can speak for Nichola and Amanda when I say "They don't do failure either".

Stay with us and join us on a journey to the roof of Africa. Your support means everything and together we can make a real difference to the lives of disabled children living locally here in Lancashire. Join our facebook group here http://www.facebook.com/group.php? gid=10150118264585221, follow my eternal rants (and training progress) on Twitter http://twitter.com/#!/Spudda73 and details of how you can donate to our worthy charity will be published very soon.

Thank you

Tim and the "Kili-crew"