It was 6.20 pm and they were obviously looking out for me, having seen the light from my headtorch coming down the hillside. I apologised if I had taken the wrong path through the farm but I hardly got the words out before they laid into me for starting the walk so late (2pm) and coming down in the dark. The farmer said that he hated people like me for putting the rescue services to such inconvenience and never having insurance. "If you can't find the car park, your map reading is crap and puts you in danger up the hill." The wife said that there had been a rescue of a walker further north in the national park that very day. I replied that I knew what I was doing and this afternoon's walk was part of my training . They were not impressed.
"Yet another stupid hill walker going out in bad weather with snow and ice everywhere", they must have thought.
Complete incomprehension by the locals for the sheer delight that some, like me, have for going out in what they think is a white hell, is a sheer white heaven for me!
What I should have said was "This is part of my continuous training in completing all the high hills in the UK and Ireland. I'm doing this kind of thing all the time; I'm properly equipped, with the right clothing; I'm qualified as a mountain leader in non snow conditions with the MLTB and I know this area like the back of my hand, having been here over many years in summer and winter conditions." I said none of that, however! Perhaps, that was just as well 'cos I had forgotten to take the ice axe out of the car, I was using instep crampons with my mt approach shoes, I didn't have insurance with the BMC and I very nearly didn't bother with taking the map (that I knew I didn't need to use, anyway). This was also my first major walk after four months of limping from an inflamed, weak tendon.
Three years ago, one of my party, in this very same valley, dialled 999 from her mobile when I lost my party who went steaming off without waiting for me to catch up. Aberdovey Outward Bound Mt Rescue were called out. We met them at the Red Lion in Dinas Mawddwy.
As I walked to the car after this harangueing, I saw that the farmer had put his Land Rover across the back of my car to make sure that I would have to call at the farmhouse to get out, anyway!
I then could not get the car started. I said to the farmer, "I now can't get the bloody car started. Could I make a free phone call from your landline, please?"
"It's a diesel isn't it? Try pumping the accelerator pedal up and down as you keep the key turning over the engine."
And that did the trick; no going into the farmhouse; no walking to the red kiosk 2 miles down the lane; and, no waiting for breakdown rescue. Brilliant! I didn't stop until I got to the the Brigands' Inn to change out of my mountain approach shoes and to take my coat off for the rest of the drive home.
1 January 2010
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