I note that last year I made comments about there being only a few day walks but there have been some this year the most noticeable being a training walk in readiness for the weeklong series of day walks along St Cuthbert’s Way. This epic was enjoyed by all those who could get time off from work starting from Melrose SYHA Hostel and finishing in a B & B next to the A1 back in England. This was the second time this year that the group had walked to or from Scotland. The first time was from a small self-catering bunkhouse in Northumbria. The Ministry of Defence was spending the taxpayers money training our troops for combat next to Barrowburn hostel when we stayed there. Getting to the place was daunting for some as a bridge was under repair, which caused long diversions. Each vehicle took a different route or so it seemed when the drivers compared notes. I as a driver was thwarted in crossing the ranges from the A68 by one hour as the army was shooting at any moving thing and had been doing so for an hour before I arrived and rang for permission to go along the normally open road. The manoeuvres were to last for several days.

The St Cuthbert’s Walk was an excellent piece of organised logistics four drivers ferrying cars and members from the finish or to the start of each day’s trek. The last day was across the sands, far safer than the tarmac road, to Holy Island itself, some managing to do so in boots whilst the majority chose to subject their toes to the custard consistency ooze on parts of the crossing. Dave Self and I left before the completion celebrations to travel to York YHA for the AGM. Local YHA Groups still have a right to send five delegates to the YHA AGM from the local groups conference. Next year this conference will be held at Milton Keynes hostel in late March, probably the 20th, but the date has to be confirmed. Your Chairman is writing a constitution for this occasion now that the changes to the YHA constitution are settled to member’s satisfaction.

I cannot comment on other weekends as I did not attend but there were the usual trips to Tanner’s Hatch. It remains to be seen what changes will take place now that Sarah the previous long-term manager has left. It was a sad occasion following our last visit as an extra day added to the Puttenham barn weekend. Dave Self and I did have the opportunity to thank Sarah for making our group visits enjoyable and also to wish her well in the future. If you have not been before then I recommend you take the earliest opportunity to join Dave on one the next few planned visits.

There will be a return trip to Puttenham camping barn next year during the late May bank holiday to visit the beer festival at the local pub, called the “Good Intent”, a former16th century coaching inn.

Well now to the more immediate future. I again am organizing the Christmas weekend to Kington in response to the members who last year wanted a repeat visit. Things are slightly different in as much as the Olde Tavern has changed hands and no longer does food on a regular basis so I have booked the meal in the nearest pub towards the town centre from the hostel known as the Angel Inn. The food quality and the beer quality are excellent.

I hope to see you at the AGM to express your views and air your grievances this being the only time of the year for ordinary members to so do.

Recently I was at Coverack Hostel for three nights, and lo and behold, on a notice board were all three styles of local groups poster. The 2001 version with the long list of names, so I took the opportunity to amend Phil Humphrey’s phone number at the top of the second column. The green triangle one, designed by me and Sarah White on the corner of her desk in Matlock office three or so years ago and the present one (2008) in burgundy with happy smiling faces of youngsters enjoying hostelling.

Well this group of ours is going well although some wish for more day walks. But August was the wettest on record and I am not aware of anyone in the group with the capacity to walk on water. It is therefore unreasonable to expect any member to come forward with offers to lead evening or weekend day walks with the weather outlook promising such awful underfoot conditions.

A book “The Spirit of YHA” has recently been published and is reviewed in YHA Life’. I have seen a copy and can recommend it to anyone interested in the early days of damp beds and rope ladder fire escapes, when it was essential to arrive under ones own steam by cycle or foot. The cost is £20.00 the proceeds from the sales going to support the small hostels fund. This is a fund for small hostels and not a small fund for any hostel. Lindsey Porter, one of the co-authors will ensure the funds are not diverted to other YHA needs. It is hardback, 192 pages long and profusely illustrated with hostels and hostellers, most of whom appear to aged between twenty and thirty. The YHA mission statement has remained unchanged over all the years.

There is talk of exciting weekends for next year with city hostels being considered for January. We have to get through this year first. Last Christmas weekend was an exciting happy time with some very surprised members awarded some lasting mementos. What will this year have in store? Well for one thing there will be no self-catering on Saturday night but a trip the local hostelry where the meal is already booked. Health and safety is always present. With this in mind the local hospital is between the hostel and the pub. The pub is the Olde Tavern. It features in the 2009 edition of the Good Beer Guide. The description states

Part of Kington’s history – this award-winner is one for the connoisseur. A small, unspoilt two-room time warp. It has a small public bar full of fascinating curios, including the 1920 refurbishment plans that never came to fruition. At the rear is the diminutive Jake’s Bistro, serving exceptional value English cuisine made from locally sourced ingredients. The opening hours are given as 6.30 – 1.00 am on Fridays, and 6,00 – 1.00 Saturdays.

This was the Chairman’s choice.

I trust that you will attempt to find time to attend the second AGM this year. There will be a meal before the formal business. Hope to see you there. There will only one AGM next year. Should you wish to volunteer to help to run the group all future meetings will be held in the Western pub in an upstairs room.

Last year was one of celebration for the group. The group founded in 1937 had a birthday. Black Sail was a wet walk but enjoyable all the same. John led the Brecon weekend in warm weather. I arranged a weeklong walk in the Hebrides only to find that the accommodation had been cancelled unbeknown to myself. An anxious thirty minutes in Glasgow hostel at the reception desk worked out bed nights to fit in with the booked ferry sailings. The first walk was without a map in gale force winds and horizontal rain.

Slaidburn weekend was another wet one. I took along a red and yellow parasol that was very handy to keep off the heavy rain even though I very nearly did a Mary Poppins flight on a few occasions. I camped under it in the thunderstorm. Well it did have built in lightning conductor and I wore rubber-soled boots.

In August we had a birthday party at Kings hostel, which was also of the same age. This was truly a group event as everyone buckled down in order to make the occasion a memorable one. The party was held outside in the dark by a bonfire. The chairman was seen brandishing a knife and also cake in kitchen roll, as excellent confection baked by Rob. This was after the walk up and down Cader Idris.

A week was spent in one hostel in the Lake District. The view from the walkway to Keswick hostel was one of flooding. The river below was over the banks.

The Christmas weekend was spent in that 600-year-old former maltings. I never did find out the reason why there is no Bank of Wales. Alcohol flowed during the meal following which there were two surprise awards. One to Sarah for managing the oversight of all the catering requirements, of a bouquet of flowers. The second to Dave our trustworthy Hon. Treasurer for long service, of a pewter pint tankard with malt whisky to accompany, organised in secret by Mick. Stella is one knows her alcohol and folks’ needs.

In warm weather earlier this year, a pleasant time walking was experienced at Holbrook farm in Edale.

All in all an excellent year’s activities although day walks were few and very far between.

I was late up the following morning so missed the T’ai Chi callisthenics class on the lawn in front of the hostel led by Sooi and thus my mind and body remained uncleansed.

The Saturday walk was carried out under a cooling cloud until the summit of Cader Idris was neared. At the summit the mist blowing from the sea over the top provided some dramatic pictures of silhouetted figures standing on a rocky outcrop which appeared to be higher than the trig pointed peak. On the ascent some walkers said there was a possibility of a Brocken Spectre. I did not see one. The silhouetted figures might have been trying to create one. It is caused by the brilliant sun projecting the shadow image of the viewer greatly magnified on to the mist in front of one some distance away. Your walking partner will not see the same image as you. Brocken is the highest summit on the Hartz range in Saxony where the optical illusion was first observed. Not many minutes at the top saw the mist lift and the cloud blow away so that the dramatic views of Barmouth town, beach, estuary and the surrounding hills appeared to be brought nearer so clear was the atmosphere. The café was closed, but that was not surprising, as it had not opened for very many years. It still proves to be a good shelter in inclement weather. Saturday’s weather was very clement. The sun, very hot, was beating down through an extremely clear atmosphere with the cloud cover gone.

Tempus fugit

The walk back to the hostel was full of expectations. Leicester YHA group was to celebrate a birthday. A few Leicester YHA members in 1937 set up the group. The party was to celebrate the seventy-year history of the group at Kings, which also opened in 1937. It was just as well that half of the group membership was in attendance preparing the food. A barbeque kindly brought along by Liz and Boh heated the bangers, kebabs, burgers and sausages. The veggie stuff was in the hostel oven. Rob presided over the salad preparation and gave advice freely to all the helpers. It was a warm night. The campfire lit the camping area around which we all gathered. The midges were out. It is only the females that bite. Carrying out a selective cull in the dark is difficult. I consider that my attempts to do just that were the reason that I was bitten on face, neck and hair. There was alcohol in the form of wine and beer. The female midges drank freely of blood.

With the food out of the way the birthday cake was removed from its protective washing up bowl and carried with due ceremony to a small table erected by the camp fire. The candles were lit. The time had arrived for Alan to say something about 1937 for no one else was around at the time except him. The country had a new King and Alan had spent some time during that year suffering from measles. The candles had to be snuffed before burning the cake. That also ended the short speech. The man in the blue bow tie proposed a toast to the future of the group, and the reply was “The Leicester Local YHA Group”.

It was at this point that the chairman circled the fire brandishing a knife recalled the previous occasion on which a party had been arranged in honour of the birthdays of Alan and Tony Thompson. The resulting photos appeared to show a gay wedding. Well anything for a laugh. And so the cake was cut. Alan who was still wearing his waiter’s bow tie distributed the slices to all in the darkness. Rob was careful to cut pieces to a reasonable size, somewhat bigger than wedding cake pieces. The hostel management was not overlooked and received a piece each. I later noted that Rob was giving his recipe freely to the management and discussing catering methods.

Dorothy was given a round of applause in appreciation of her efforts for the group to celebrate this birthday occasion. Organising a larger group does entail more work as more folks create more problems. Having sampled the cake Rob was thanked for his wonderful creation topped with petite fours and iced with marzipan all round the side in a basket weave pattern. Another round of appreciation applause was handed out for Rob. We all retired to clean up the kitchen and campfire area before retiring to bed or reminiscing over walks and weekends to alcohol accompaniment. Some stayed up later than others and imbibed rather a lot of alcohol units.

A tired and weary lot appeared in the common room and kitchen on Sunday morning. Tired legs, aching muscles, and hangovers were all having some effect such that several alternative excursions were planned. It appeared that the car drivers were taking members all over the Welsh coast, and very few wanted to sample the low level planned walk. It was decided that we would all meet in Barmouth by the Old Lifeboat house. This prominent building would be easy to find. It was hot and warm. This weather also brought out all the day-trippers in their cars. It is not a good idea to arrange such a meeting on a bank holiday Sunday morning. Well eventually all the drivers managed to find a space to leave their cars and we all met as planned. Some had already gone to the beach, which is a very low level walk, or to Portmeirion, which again is the next to an estuary beach. The remainder set off to the small ferryboat in order to catch the narrow gauge train to Fairborne. To attract custom this day was India day on the railway. The locomotives were decorated with garlands and the staff wore suitable Asian headgear. It is not usual for the group to use four modes of transport to reach the start of the walk. These were; a short car drive; a long walk from the car park to the meeting point and ferry; a ferry ride and then finally a railway ride behind a small replica narrow gauge steam engine. We were not hauled by the Darjeeling replica but were able to see it half way along the line when our train waited for it to pass puffing on its way towards Barmouth. Our train was hauled by a replica of the engine that pulled and puffed along the Lynton and Barnstable holiday railway line between the two world wars.

Smiling Norman who had packed up his tent and left the hostel independently met the train by chance at Fairbourne and decided to walk with us. A leisurely walk along the lower hills above the estuary gave brilliantly lit views. The weather was warm and sunny although the wind at times was chilling. We were attracted by young persons screams of terror or delight depending on their nerves, to descend into a disused stone quarry to watch and for lunch. Those young persons entertaining us were whizzing down a catenary wire from the top of the quarry wall into cold-water bum first. They were suitably clad in wet suits for the thrilling ride. We moved on when the entertainment packed up and a slight chill had set into our bones. Wandering on we all found our way along the paths beneath the Cader Idris ridge heading for the footpath alongside the railway line over the Mawddach River. This was featured on one of the episodes of Coast and described by Nicholas Crane. We all paid the toll otherwise the walk avoiding this fee was too long to contemplate. Up a steep slope we walked and then we were all back in Barmouth. Some took refreshment in tearooms or a pub. I joined three lovely ladies at the Bath House for hot chocolate on the terrace over the sand. The sun was still very hot. We sat relaxed.

We all gathered again at Kings hostel to cook our meals and partake in the alcoholic beverages supplied from the management.

On the Bank Holiday Monday we all went our various ways to return to Leicester, as was the wish of the car drivers. Patricia was driving the car; Rob and Maggie were the other passengers. We decided that Machynlleth was a suitable place for a cuppa.

Welsh organic food was purchased and the kind shop assistant directed us to a nice teashop for lunch. Patricia ordered organic tea without the tea bag, and ham eggs and chips minus the ham and the chips. This order did not faze the staff one iota. So fascinated was I by this quality check by Patricia on the food used by the establishment that I cannot recall my order or that of anyone else.

We later stopped in Shrewsbury for a walk round and afternoon tea in a pub except that Patricia decided that her needs could be met by tea without a teabag and water. Maggie had tea and I supped a beer. In the meantime Rob and Patricia had returned to the car. I visited the loo and said I would catch up later.

On the main street I realised that I could not recall the whereabouts of the car. This was reinforced when I found myself outside the Bingo Hall where we first parked before deciding that there might be a real fire inside to which the fire and rescue service were attending. At this point the value of modern technology came to be truly valued. A mobile phone call from Rob arranged a meeting at the Railway Station. Let this be a warning to all that this is what dementia has in store for you all.

This was an excellent bank holiday weekend organised by Dorothy with food purchased by Chris and Dorothy cooked under the direction of Rob.

Four set out from Leicester at 9.0 a.m. on Saturday morning. Before mid day we had stowed away our bags at the hostel and settled our dues. Whilst waiting for Chris to move his car. The Shakespeare Pub at no. 1 Henry Street at the back of the Hostel opened its doors. It was midday. The writer spoke to the barman about the beer range, and promised to visit. The parking meters were bunged up from the previous night according to the man who was emptying and making the necessary repairs. It was raining but just gentle rain. There was no free parking though. Unlike at Portree on Skye in May 2006 where a similar parking meter problem had resulted in just that for the writer. But it was pouring with rain and blowing a gale at that time.

The hostel had street maps of the area so we all agreed to use the maps to navigate to visit the Tourist Information desk a journey of less than half a mile. We got there safely.

The Three Musketeers was being performed that evening at Bristol Old Vic. Now this theatre is one that survived the bombing of the city during the last war. It is the only theatre in Britain to have had performances continually since it was built in the seventeenth century. We bought four tickets with four credit cards. This did not faze the sales person. She suggested that we visit the nearby market, just around the corner. This might be so if you are a resident. The corner having been turned, and Chris had gone to fetch his camera; we three hadn’t got a clue where to go. There were two fire engines and crews attending a to fire alarm but no apparent fire nor smoke so I asked the way of a fire and rescue man. He asked his colleague and both agreed it was beside the church we could see. Perhaps the drivers of the fire tenders use SatNav these days and not local knowledge. However the Saturday covered market was situated behind the Old Fishmarket pub and its notices stated food served all day. We spent time at the organic beer stall sampling the freebies before traipsing around the stalls in a covered market just looking at display of goods, whilst waiting for Chris to catch up which he did. At my suggestion we should try the Old Fishmarket pub for food. We ordered the beer, Dave and I did, and Chris had eaten and did not wish for more and went. Margaret wanted a coffee but it was Saturday and not available. She then went to catch Chris promising to return. The first pint was very delectable and as Margaret had not returned a second pint was consumed. No food was being served as the chef had been given day off. The writer had failed in his quest for food, which he has found, is needed in regular four hourly intervals to sustain life. However a sandwich stall was used it the market for sustenance before Dave and I set out to see the Brunel Exhibition in the Museum adjacent to Temple Meads railway station. City breaks tend to be “do your own thing” occasions and this one was no exception. When in a strange city public loos are not easy to find but public houses provide this type of convenience so another pint was bought as a means of keeping another landlord happy. We got to the museum, and separated. Strangely I cannot recall what the exhibition was about but it might have something to do with Mr Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s career and achievements. We had promised to meet back the Hostel at 5.00p.m. I recall I was last back as I had to inspect the premises at the railway station and also needed a quick visit the Fleece back street pub. Such detours delay ones progress.

It was a warm day for the time of year, but a chill had set in during the evening. We ate a meal opposite the theatre, drew lots for our seats, as we had two sets of two seats and went across the road to the Old Vic for the performance.

It was a family show and children were present but this did not detract from a lively sword clashing performance throughout. It was a pleasure to see such in these historic surroundings.”One for all!” was the shout throughout. “And All for One” the reply.

After the show Dave joined me for another pint at the pub across the road where before entering I enquired of the doorman whether there was a quiet room, he answered in the affirmative by gesturing the next door through which we entered. Karaoke was going on to the usual drunken solo off-key renditions of popular songs. Followed by noisy applause as encouragement to continue. We drank our pints in the quieter room. Afterwards we meandered back to our beds at the hostel concentrating with some difficulty on the route. We met up with Chris at the hostel door having been out taking night shots on his camera.

Dawn broke brilliantly, too brilliantly when Chris who was first out of bed into pitch darkness, let the window blinds up to reveal a bright cloudless azure blue sky. This action caused me to pull the covers over my head to avoid the brightness. I was last up. Breakfast over and bags packed we had decided over breakfast to walk back to the city from a few miles out. We caught the first bus of the day at 10.40 a.m. not that early but usual on Sunday mornings and relied on Chris to get us off at the right stop. He was carrying the map. We were not aware until we walked past the bus stop we should have alighted at that the walk had been extended by half a large roundabout. Elevenses were taken at the appropriate time at Ashton Court. Not really in the Grand House but in the yard next to the converted stable block. The views over Bristol were admired from this National trust property. Further on the famous Suspension Bridge was reached. Before crossing it was essential to visit the visitor centre and read about the problems over fundraising, construction and erosion problems caused by the horses. More modern problems of erosion were caused by the rock salt put down on icy days during winter. The bridge is constructed from recycling the chains from the old Hammersmith Bridge across the Thames. The toll has been recently increased to 50p per vehicle. It had been twenty pence.

We visited another viewpoint above a place where children use an inclined rock face for a slide and wondered about the numbers of small pairs of trousers over the past century all of which had helped to polish the surface to a sunlit sheen. We gazed at the surrounding views from the top of Observatory Hill beside the Camera Obscura.

A roast lunch was partaken at the Royal Oak with another beer. Our wanderings took us through Bristol past some university accommodation, and down steep constitution hill. The Cabot Tower was high above. At the end of Jacob’s Well Road we could see the SS Great Britain. We did not visit the “Bag o’Nails”, a small gas lit terraced unspoilt pub, but used the money saved to cross the water. 50p was the cost of the ferry across the floating harbour to land at the pontoon beside Brunel’s ship. A steady walk alongside the Bristol Harbour Railway, a preserved railway past the Industrial Museum took us to the Prince Street Bridge near the car park. It did not take long to get back to Leicester. A very enjoyable weekend enjoyed by three musketeers and Margaret.