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What makes for travel adventure in this day and age? I reflect upon this over my holiday reading: “The Sudden View” – a literary classic written by Sybille Bedford in 1953. This account of an extended visit to Mexico relates the tale of 2 women travelling by steam train through the southern US states, across the border to a land they know only through reputation and tenuous recommendation. It’s a journey not just into the unknown but into a bygone age of travel.

The Sudden View

The Sudden View

Today’s world feels distinctly smaller. Travel has become more of a commodity and destinations a marketed product. At least that’s how it feels sometimes, but the truth is that a sense of adventure always comes down to personal experience. There may be few untrod paths these days but there are many untrod by us individually.

Imbued by the spirit of discovery I set out on a circular coastal walk from my quaint holiday cottage in Fowey. The sun is out and my weary knees are not complaining for a change, or maybe I’m just not listening as I head out through the fields of corn.

Correctly spaced

Correctly spaced

Having recently planted sweetcorn in our allotment I’m very pleased to observe a 40cm gap between rows as this is pretty much how I set out my own planting, albeit on a rather more modest scale

There’s a very rural feel to this walk so far. With no sea view yet I could be in Shropshire but for the faintest taste of salt in the air. Gradually there are more clues. The path gradually descends and a lone seagull hovers briefly before gliding back over the tall hedgerow. Am I imaging it or are herring bone walls a coastal thing?

Herring bone wall

Herring bone wall

It occurs to me how relaxed I have become. Walking is brilliant for emptying your head of all that everyday nonsense you carry around unwittingly. I’m in the moment and ever so slightly blissful.

In the moment

In the moment

My first human encounter givs cause for concern. A jogger running toward me stops to ask me which direction the sea is in. I had rather hoped it was in the direction she had come from…

Fifteen minutes later the verdant passage takes a sharp left and drops reassuringly towards an imagined coast. And there – out of nowhere – is a sudden view.

My sudden view

My sudden view

I can see a grand country cottage set in immaculate grounds across a placid lake. A duck paddles into view. I hadn’t expected this. When the path reaches the shoreline things begin to make more sense. The small lake sits behind the arc of Polridmouth Cove.

There are two sides to Polridmouth Cove

There are two sides to Polridmouth Cove

This scene is enchanting. The southwest coast path intersects a manicured postcard cottage view to the right and the rugged Cornish bay to the left. The effect is quite intruiging. There’s not another soul to be seen and I spend a couple of minutes absorbing the view in a world of my own.

Tranquility

Tranquility

Unlike the relentless crashing waves of the north Cornish coastline this southern sea is flat and inviting. There are countless flat stones and I feel compelled to skim some. I skim some. The beach is mine alone. I long to be a resident of the adjacent cottage, just a stone skim behind me. This is a bubble I wish to remain in.

Nothing says Joy like dogs on a beach

Nothing says Joy like dogs on a beach

The bubble bursts. Three scallywag friends race across the sands, their excitement palpable! A lady, their owner, hoves into view with a look of mild exasperation. One of her hounds is joyfully playing with a ball that belongs to a dog in the adjoining cove and now she will have to take it all the way back and apologise to the owner. Such a British scene.

Onward and upward

Onward and upward

It’s time for me to move on. Gribben Head beckons. The path heads up onto the cliff over a lush carpet of grass that appears to have been meticulously mowed. I’m reminded of a similarly idyllic climb some 15 years ago upon suspiciously perfect spongy lush grass atop the commanding chalk cliffs on the Isle Of Wight towards The Needles. That was a hot summer dream of a walk, capped off by the king of cream teas at a remote farm cottage. That cream tea…

Do look back

Do look back

Over my shoulder the coastline unfolds past Polridmouth Cove to the Fowey Estuary and the hilltop extent of Polruan, then beyond. The land of smugglers. The land of Poldark, if you are a BBC marketing executive or an employee of the Cornish tourist board.

Not a lighthouse

Not a lighthouse

The monolithic Gribben Tower has been on my radar since the descent into the cove, but only now do I realise it isn’t a lighthouse. In fact it’s an 84ft tall “daymark” intended to help sailors pinpoint Fowey harbour. An information board tells me I have visited at the wrong time of month to go up the tower. It also claims that regional author Daphne du Maurier framed many of her novels around this headland, with Rebecca specifically set at Polridmouth – a mere stroll from her latter years dwelling in Menabilly.

No seals today

No seals today

As the path continues due north it flattens up and offers clear vision over the wide bay to Charlestown – if only I could recognise it. I hope to spot a seal basking on the rocks below but today they must be out fishing. The walking is easy and broken only by the passing of a comically endless train of ramblers. I start of with Hello, and transition through Guten Tag to Grüß Gott as I realise this is a German, no – Bavarian walking party. I have encountered a lot of Germans enjoying this part of Cornwall. They get it.

Polkerris Bay

Polkerris Bay

The miniscule harbour at Polkerris Bay provides a peaceful sanctuary for the few who are visiting today. Limited access and parking mean that the beach can never become too crowded, while a pub and hip beach café mean visitors are well catered for. There’s time to pause for a coffee whose mediocrity is forgiven by the friendliness of its serving.

My route breaks from the coast at this point to return inland across farming country. A mercifully brief steep climb leads to a farmyard with outbuildings that I want to nose into but there are workers about so I pause only to admire the tractor.

The mighty Ford 3000

The mighty Ford 3000

Tractor enthusiasts (they do exist) would share my appreciation for the beauty of this beast. As a child I had a die-cast model just like this. This is either a modern clone or really just that old, though it looks in good nick. The surrounding fields hum with activity as machinery works the land. My path is cordoned off for a detour around a field of crops being harvested today, before crossing the Saints Way – a 27 mile walking route from Fowey on the south coast to Padstow on the North.

The divine path

The divine path

This strikes me as a fun 2 day trek for some future visit, to be topped off with fish and chips plus a pint of Doom Bar overlooking Padstow harbour.

Every inch of land on the path back to Fowey appears to be cultivated. Where is the fallow field? After half a mile two cottages flank my way and outside one stands a trestle table bearing surplus produce beneath a hand written sign that says Help Yourself. I liberate an oversized cucumber with lunch in mind. But the walk isn’t quite over yet and there’s time for one final sudden view.

Happy as pigs in mud

Happy as pigs in mud

I love pigs. Any creature that is happy dozing in a puddle of mud has my admiration. This small holding is home to a couple of sows and a litter of not-so-thin piglets. One of the mums sniffs her way over to see me. What can I give her? I have nothing … oh, the cucumber.

Feeding time

Feeding time

Poor mum. One of the piglets is pestering her for milk and she doesn’t seem in the mood. Eventually she gives in and is besieged by little snouts all wanting a feed. So much for the easy life.

Ten minutes later I’m sitting in my cottage garden with a cool drink. The GPS tracker records the route at around 6 miles over a leisurely 3 hour period. I pick up my book to find Sybille is getting to grips with Mexico City but all I can think about are the images and sensations of this morning’s mini-adventure. Reading can wait for a dull day at home. There are more untrod paths to discover here – starting with one that leads to lunch…

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As an occasional day walker my trips into the Peak District don’t tend to extend beyond Bakewell due to constraints of time. While there are countless wonderful day walks to be had in the White Peak I have recently been pining for the striking landscapes of the Dark Peak further north where the edges become rougher and everything is turned up a notch.

My original plan was to start from Eyam, traverse Froggatt Edge, pass by the Chatsworth estate down to Bakewell before heading down the dales of Lathkill, Wolfcote and Dove, ending at Ilam on the third day. A lack of accommodation in Bakewell (of all places) put paid to that idea. Another plan involved the rugged delights of Snake Pass and Ladybower but the options for stopping over were even worse.

Decisions decisions...

Decisions decisions…

Eventually I threw away the notion of a linear walk and booked YHA accommodation in Castleton and Edale from where circular day walks could give the fix I was after. Now why was that so hard?

Youth Hostels have changed. Gone are the days where you have to contribute to communal cooking and washing up. The facilities have improved and there is a wider appeal, which is a good or bad thing depending on your outlook.

Lord of the manor

Lord of the manor

Castleton YHA has a baronial feel about it. With the first chills of winter on the way I’m grateful for the open fires that dot grand stone fire places of this old country manor. I’m less grateful for the screaming groups of school kids who are running amok in what must feel like a scaled down version of Hogwarts.

No sign of Harry Potter

No sign of Harry Potter

If I was them I would be just as excited.

Saturday morning is purpose made for walking. Breakfast is coffee and a bite on the green watching folk come and go beneath the Celtic cross, before frittering half an hour chatting with the encyclopaedic proprietor of an outdoor shop on the subject of boot makers of the Dolomites.

This is too relaxing

This is too relaxing

Finally I drag myself out of the shadow of Peverel Castle up a village road which almost immediately hints at the scenery that will define this walk. Rustic cottages frame the sort of scene you might expect to find to in the Yorkshire Dales or Lake District

Peak views

Peak views

The topography of today’s route is guaranteed to provide some dramatic sights – weather permitting. Before long the tarmac runs out and those views begin to reveal themselves.

Looking good!

Looking good!

If half of the visitors to Castleton are here to walk, cycle or hang glide then the other half have come to see the caves the town is famous for. I pass Peak Cavern and then Speedwell Cavern at the head of Winnats Pass.

I was prepared for every climatic condition except sunshine

I was prepared for every climatic condition except sunshine

The path ascends steeply to Treak Cliff Cavern where new seams of Blue John have recently been uncovered decades after the last major find. The landscape is really starting to open up and the sun finally makes an appearance as I ascend to the mouth of Blue John Cavern, which seems to be attracting cave enthusiasts by the bus load.

Looking down at Barber Booth

Looking down at Barber Booth

The foot of Mam Tor provides richly rewarding views north over the valley to Barber Booth. I wait awhile to absorb the rather unexpected scale and colour of this scene, plus the unexpected warmth of the winter sun. Then it’s a long gradual climb uphill for myself and the 100 other day walkers.

One of several trig points in the area

One of several trig points in the area

This section of path is attractively paved. It is hard to imagine the effort required to build and maintain a path like this, let alone one at a higher altitude beyond the range of any vehicle.

I'm guessing its this way…

I’m guessing its this way…

…which is probably why the paved path doesn’t last for long…

Easy walking, paved or unpaved

Easy walking, paved or unpaved

The ridge path towards Hollins Cross is a dream to walk, serving up outstanding views for minimal effort. The cross in question was removed a little over a hundred years ago and apparently, in even earlier times, the route was used to transport coffins from Edale over to Hope.

I overhear a group making call to the emergency services about an injured party member. Various parties are engaged with Duke of Edinburgh awards activities so perhaps this is an exercise? Fifteen minutes later the thumping rotors of an air ambulance suggest otherwise.

Back Tor

Back Tor

If I had ever followed up on my passing interest in Geology I might be able to explain the forces of nature that formed Back Tor. It certainly provides a great photo opportunity and a Japanese group are taking full advantage. Castleton has an international appeal I hadn’t expected with Americans, Russians and Italians amongst the other groups up here today.

Taking it all in

Taking it all in

I have really enjoyed this walk. This straightforward Peak District route has served a up rich variety of sights and points of interest. It has also been great to see such a diverse spectrum of people out on the hills.

Navigation has been a no-brainer and the weather has been kind. My march back down into Castleton is well timed as a heavy dark cloud threatens to put a dampener on things.

Making mud pies

Making mud pies

Not that weather is going to stop many people from getting out and enjoying themselves. After all, if you are going to make the effort of visiting the Dark Peak you aren’t going to be put off by the elements.

Tonight I’m going to enjoy the hostelries of Castleton. Tomorrow I’m going to take in the altogether more rugged landscape of Kinder. And the weather rarely does any favours there…

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The fight back has begun. The allotment doesn’t own all my time. It starts this weekend with my first (!) proper walk of the fast receding summer. But this will be more than a walk – I need to right a wrong…

My encounter with the Cleveland Way national trail three years ago was specifically timed to coincide with the flowering of the heather that dominates the North York Moors. Inspired by the accounts of other walkers I visited in September when the hills were supposed to be awash with colour only to find that I had missed the party by a week or two. Today’s route crosses Stanton Moor where, rumour has it, the heather is in bloom.

I'm doing gardening wrong

I’m doing gardening wrong

The sun is ablaze as I set off from Rowsley at an improbably early time. There’s nobody to been seen and I’m feeling smug, even though the folk of Stanton Woodhouse Farm are probably on their second breakfast by now.

What's the hurry?

What’s the hurry?

Twenty minutes sat on a log admiring the view over the Derwent valley is time well spent. Especially since a dirty black cloud decides to latch onto me for much of the rest of the day. Fortunately the trail heads off into woodland where the rain is heard more than it is absorbed.

Woodland retreat

Woodland retreat

A tree-engulfed ruin has an industrial feel to it but what can it be? This is a former quarrying area but without signage its former life is left to the imagination.

Going nowhere

Going nowhere

Further down the track I come across an old quarry face. Four millstones, so emblematic of the Peak District, lie abandoned nearby. I imagine they were destined to grind flour before the business closed. Or were they employed to grind sandstone hewn from the rock face? Today they seem as immovable and permanent a part of the landscape as the ground on which they sit.

Not lost for once

Not lost for once

The rain eases off obligingly as I leave the cover of the undergrowth for Stanton Moor. When I planned this route the map contours suggested panoramic views from the edge over to Darley Dale but the dense foliage has left me with just brief glimpses. Now if only I could climb to the top of this tower…

Closed today

Closed today

The Reform Tower was erected by local benefactor William Pole Thornhill to commemorate the 1832 reform act which set out to democratise electoral representation and do away with the so-called rotten boroughs. We are long overdue another such revolution…

Encouraging...

Encouraging…

The sun greets my first sight of the moor and the signs are good. There’s heather and it’s purple!

...very encouraging...

…very encouraging…

Soon it gets better and the path is lined by flowering heather. Numerous bees hover and perch around the plants as they industriously strive to produce heather infused honey that may end up on toast for some lucky soul.

Purple reign!

Purple reign!

As Stanton Moor opens up into a treeless plateau I finally get to experience the carpet of colour I missed out on in North Yorkshire. The vivid heather is everywhere! I was pleased when I managed to barely keep 4 tiny heather plants alive in my front garden for a couple of seasons but mother nature does this sort of thing so much better. Although mother nature doesn’t have to contend with my dad coming around to mow not only the lawn but 4 abused plants I had fought to nurture while working away in London…

Natures work

Natures work

It’s not just the colour but also the contrast with the verdant carpet of fern and moss speckled outcrops of rock that create such a dramatic effect, not to mention a sweet smell of heather that lingers in the light moist breeze.

My trip has been well worth it and I’m not yet at the half way stage. The ascent down into Birchover leads through a very well-kept campsite that I stayed at many years ago with friends. I seem to recall visiting during the village fete at which we won a tin of spam.

Curious creatures

Curious creatures

I don’t recognise much now and certainly not the Llamas that adapt so well to the English landscape. These are curious, charming creatures with no apparent fear of humans. They share a slightly startled look that I can only interpret as confusion. “How did we end up here?”

Tempting

Tempting

The Druid Inn alludes to a local folklore that I will expand upon when I return to Stanton Moor after lunch, if you can call a slice of cake on a bench lunch. The drizzle intensifies and I watch from beneath a tree as a growing trickle of people head into the Red Lion for proper Sunday lunch.

No entry

No entry

Why do walks always resume up hill after lunch? A steep climb out of Birchover rejoins the main road and takes me past Birchover Quarry which continues the long-standing local tradition. They know how to keep vehicles out of the site – this car sized rock must weigh 20 tonnes.

Just imagine the size of the bottle...

Just imagine the size of the bottle…

Returning to Stanton Moor the surreal Cork Stone looks as if somebody has carved it and deposited it here. In fact it is one of many weathered sandstone oddities to be found in and around the moor although not all of them have had iron climbing handles hammered into them in the 19th century. Last time I was here I climbed to the top (ahem) so there’s no need to do it again.

4,000 years of ritual

4,000 years of ritual

A short walk through light woodland leads to an opening where … things get spiritual. The Nine Ladies stone circle dates back 4000 years to the bronze age where it was believed to be the centre of rituals and ceremonies for people who lived and farmed in the area. The Druid Inn in Birchover alludes to the mystical draw of this place which still attracts druids and pagans on the solstice.

Ancient monuments like these will always capture our imagination – perhaps even inspire song. (You know you have to click this link)

When can I move in

When can I move in

A short walk north brings me to the attractive village of Stanton In The Peak. Presumably “In The Peak” was a suffix added to boost tourism at some point but it is well worth a visit regardless. A minor stately home here is off-limits and I wonder if the high walled garden promises more than would be delivered if I had a ladder to find out.

Stanton In The Peak

Stanton In The Peak

The church is very attractive and appears to be well maintained. There are some beautiful gardens, thriving allotments and a field of hens roaming at their leisure in return for free range eggs. Not to mention a pub that I can’t believe I didn’t know about.

Real ale in the peak

Real ale in the peak

The Flying Childers is that scarce and precious entity – an historic village pub serving real ale in a country village that hasn’t been converted into housing. A pint is so so tempting but on this occasion I settle for a glimpse inside, and it’s everything I was expecting.

Sunday dominoes

Sunday dominoes

My return to Rowsley has a different feel to it, crossing farmland and passing herds of sheep and cows. There are calves and I’m always a little wary passing through fields in case I’m seen as a threat. Fortunately they don’t seem to be aware of my visits to the farm shop.

Back at my car the drizzle instantly dissipates and out comes the sun. Typical, yes, but I really don’t care because I have closure on my heather disappointment of three years ago. Yet there have been so many highlights in this leisurely 8 mile walk – panoramic views, dramatic rock formations, abandoned ruins, ancient and not so ancient monuments and pretty country villages.

You can’t beat the Peak District for variety and drama. From here I could walk 50 yards to the water powered Cauldwells Mill where they still grind flour, or I could drive 10 minutes to the magnificent Chatsworth estate but instead I find myself raiding the M&S food hall in Matlock for a meal whose timing defies categorisation. Besides, the allotment needs me…

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In 1984 as a 15 year old Venture Scout I embarked on a 10 day Explorer Belt hike around the alpine region of South France. In this series of blog posts I revisit my diaries and retrace those footsteps…
Epilogue

In 1984 my Viking VSU walking partner Andy and I had planned and completed our Explorer Belt walk in the lowlands of the French Alps.

We made a few mistakes as was inevitable for such young inexperienced walkers. Our packing left something to be desired and we probably walked in heat we should have avoided, but we learned some lessons. We encountered setbacks such as the blisters that left us always playing catch-up, but we adapted and coped. In every important way we were successful and following completion of the August walk we handed in our project work.

On 22nd December Andy and I sat down for an EB interview with unit leader Pete. On 5th January 1985 leather Explorer Belts and paper Certificates were awarded to the teams at the Viking VSU Annual Awards Ceremony. Curiously the awards programme only lists 8 EB pairings compared to the 11 pairings referenced in the lead up to the expedition. Did three teams drop out?

Explorer Belt Certificate

Explorer Belt Certificate

The Explorer Belt Challenge is still going strong although the rules have moved on somewhat. Now you must be at least 16 years old, hitchhiking is specifically not allowed although the limited use of public transport is permissible, and “small teams” are now allowed (ie: more than just pairs)

It seems remarkable that this 15 year old teamed up with a 16 year old to plan and undertake such an expedition. It is more remarkable that we were allowed to. It’s hard to imagine that now. But I’m so glad that we did and credit must go to parents and particularly to our legendary VSU leader Pete for making it possible.

In 1984 I was an introverted self-absorbed teenager taking it all in my stride without perhaps fully appreciating the adventure at hand, but that’s the story of youth.

If I was undertaking the expedition today I would do a lot of things differently. There would be better planning and packing for sure but I would immerse myself wholeheartedly into the cultural aspects of the walk, take 1000 photos and blog in detail about the sights and experiences of the route. My diaries would reflect a much wider range of influences!

Photo observations:

  • Every single one of my photos was taken in portrait!
  • Only took 1 photo of me on entire trip! Pre-selfie era.
  • Routinely pointed camera at the wrong things partly due to complete lack of understanding of how photos will turn out once processed.
  • All of these shortcomings culminate in a paucity of visual material which actually add to the mystique of the trip. More is left to memory and imagination (although a few more/better photos would still have been nice!)

But my diaries and photos are as much about a 15 year old taking giant strides as about the miles, towns or people. In it’s own way the walk opened my mind to travel, adventure and independence. Without this I might not have travelled around Europe 3 times after university. I might not have walked the Cleveland Way. I might not be taking photos and writing about new experiences in my blog.

Realistically there was never much danger. There were no mobile phones and the world was a much larger place for everybody but we could look after ourselves and as strangers we were always treated with kindness and care by the people we met. I would prescribe a dose of adventure for all teenagers. Perceived if not actual danger is the key to opening up young minds and building self confidence in a world that has become overly protective.

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In 1984 as a 15 year old Venture Scout I embarked on a 10 day Explorer Belt hike around the alpine region of South France. In this series of blog posts I revisit my diaries and retrace those footsteps…
My diary entry

Thursday 23rd August 1984
Rained all day! Tent soaked. Had crisps and bread for breakfast. Packed all the stuff so that we could move to a bar and write up the project. Waved goodbye to the English family and Parisian girl with them. Walked to café in rain, found Shaun and James already there. We worked and I played pool with James. We both lost to a crap table.

Shaun found Pete Berwick and Rich Bussell and they came to the bar too. Still pouring down. I went to get bread, cheese and wine and the pigs finished it all off. Returned into the rain to get more bread. Walked around Crest and chatted while we waited for Pete to pick us up. When Pete arrived we chatted about our expeditions on the minibus. Returned and found wet empty tent to sleep in. Cleaned it out. Andy and I slept there and tried to keep dry. Got to bed at 12:00

On this day:

  • Birth of Glen Johnson – England footballer
  • TOTP presented by Mike Read & Tommy Vance featuring Spandau Ballet & Tracey Ullman

Looking back on our diet it’s a miracle we made it at all. When you are young you can fuel up on anything. When I see kids today loading on carbs and energy drinks I might not like it but I have to remember what I was like at that age.

We had been very lucky with the weather. Yes it had been too hot much of the time but by dodging rain during our walk we avoided having to carry heavy wet tent fabric around.

One of the spectacular roads to Grenoble

Crest was the pick-up point for several walking parties and we all had stories to tell. In the space of 10 days I had opened my mind to many new experiences, gained confidence and an increase sense of independence. Notably I had developed the ability to not be travel sick again on the hairpin roads back to base camp in Grenoble.

Grenoble

The return to base camp represented a change in pace. It was damp and largely deserted as most of the other chaps were away mountaineering or white water canoeing. I had reluctantly signed up for canoeing because another activity was expected of me. I wasn’t really confident on fast moving water as my experience was limited to gentle rivers and swimming pools.

We had some high calibre canoeists in the unit. They returned by minibus from an outing and three of the craft had suffered catastrophic damage to their fibreglass hulls. I listened to tales of battle amidst the powerful mountain falls and of the lethal rocks that had slain the vessels and some protective headgear. Afterwards I made my excuses and didn’t get into a canoe for the rest of the expedition! Did I even get in a canoe again?

The next 6 days were occupied playing football with French kids, throwing Frisbee (somebody’s plastic camping plate) with other guys from the unit, exploring Grenoble and generally pitching in around the camp. In short, having fun in the alpine sun.

Photo 1 - View over Grenoble from the Bastille

Photo 1 – View over Grenoble from the Bastille

There isn’t that much to recall of the campsite itself but Grenoble – gateway to the Alps – sticks in my mind for the mountains, river and most of all the first cable car I had seen in real life. As it happens the first alpine style cable car to operate in Britain opened at the Heights of Abraham in Matlock Bath in 1984. After I left university I drove under it every day on the way to work for 2 years. I still haven’t been on it.

Photo 2 - Grenoble across the river

Photo 2 – Grenoble across the river

Cable car today in Grenoble…
Modern re-creation in street view

I only took one other photo in the city.

Photo 3 - Place St Andre

Photo 3 – Place St Andre

Pretty Place St Andre looking the same today
Modern re-creation in street view

On Thursday 30th August I left Grenoble with a sizeable contingent to spend a couple of nights in Paris after which we returned to derby via the overnight ferry from Dieppe to Newhaven ending three magical weeks of adventure.

 Key:
Photo 1 Photo 1 – View over Grenoble from the Bastille
Photo 2 Street view of Photo 2 – Grenoble across the river
Photo 3 Street view of Photo 2 – Place St Andre

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In 1984 as a 15 year old Venture Scout I embarked on a 10 day Explorer Belt hike around the alpine region of South France. In this series of blog posts I revisit my diaries and retrace those footsteps…
My diary entry

Wednesday 22nd August 1984
Got up at 7am. Quickly packed stuff because bloke was mowing park. Got refund on bottles, bought and scoffed crisps and walked 6km to Allex. Rested there writing notes and drawing maps. Walked 10km to Crest.

Got information from police station and syndicat d’initiative. Camped, ate and met British family on holiday. Went for a 5km walk around Crest, met up with one of the Brits and his French friends and chatted at a bar. He is an ex-scout. I met the boules champion of France and then we moved onto another bar. Back at midnight.

On this day:
Another quiet news day. Here are some of the notable events of 1984…

  • Torvill & Dean win ice skating gold at the Winter Olympics
  • The Dr Who baton passes from Peter Davison to Colin Baker
  • TV debuts for Thomas the Tank Engine, The Bill and Crimewatch

Looking Back

In the morning I opened the tent door to find that a man on a large sit-on mower had covered the entire park in an ever decreasing circle almost up to our tent! I’m sure he would have stopped before mowing us down but to be sure we unpitched and moved aside so that he could complete his work. Lessons learned from camping in a public park…

Photo 1 - Livron Park

Photo 1 – Livron Park

I’m particularly pleased to have tracked down a relevant street view image, Clearly there wasn’t going to be a like for like image from the park but using satellite view I was able to look for a large building next to a grassy expanse and that’s how I located the building in the background of my selfie.
Modern re-creation in street view

This was our final day of walking. Lord knows how many packets of crisps I got through – they were superior to those at home.

It seems odd to walk into the police station at Crest and ask for information for our project but that’s what we did. People were just so accepting and helpful. We would have been urgently attempting to get the project work completed.

Crest is a reasonable sized town and the hilltop castle can be seen from miles around. The tower you can actually see is just the castle keep as the surrounding castle walls and buildings were destroyed on the orders of Louis XIII. Ownership passed into the hands of the town 4 years after our visit and the tower is now open to tourists.

Photo 2 - Tour de Crest

Photo 2 – Tour de Crest

This is what the same view looks like today
Modern re-creation in street view

As far as I can remember we didn’t touch a beer until this final night in Crest. I probably set out to explore on my own and just got chatting. When I was introduced to the French boules champion I was naturally sceptical but days later I saw a poster in Grenoble of a man holding boules that looked the guy so I guess it was true.

In retrospect this was the pinnacle of independence for me – a 15 year old in a bar in south France chatting to French people late into the evening. All because I went to explore the town. There’s much that has changed about me in the last 30 years but the seeds of exploration, the need to be curious, turn one more corner and ask one more question were evident way back then. The proper word is “nosy”.

Map
In the absence of our original maps I have deduced the following route…

Distance walked: 10.6 miles (17.0 km)

 Key:
Start Livron-sur-Drôme
Via Allex
End Crest
Photo 1 Street view of Photo 1 – Livron Park
Photo 2 Street view of Photo 2 – Tour de Crest

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In 1984 as a 15 year old Venture Scout I embarked on a 10 day Explorer Belt hike around the alpine region of South France. In this series of blog posts I revisit my diaries and retrace those footsteps…
My diary entry

Tuesday 21st August 1984
Got up at 7am as usual. Had ryvita and jam. Cat was the usual menace. Got stuff packed and asked family questions on school. Made notes. Left and we soon reached the hydro-electric station on river Rhone. After photos we walked about 10km to Le Pouzin. Bought yoghurt, bread and coke at shop. Drew maps etc.

Walked onto Loriol and Livron where we got police notes. Camped in a park. Mash peas and ravioli for food plus lemonade. Did yet more maps and stuck postcards onto paper. Got to bed at 10:30.

On this day:
In fact I can’t find reference to anything significant that happened on this exact day, but here are a couple of notable events from August 1984…

  • President Ronald Reagan, during a voice check for a radio broadcast remarks, “My fellow Americans, I’m pleased to tell you today that I’ve signed legislation that will outlaw Russia forever. We begin bombing in five minutes”.
  • The Discovery space shuttle launches for the first time

If you didn’t grow up with Ronald Reagan it’s hard to appreciate just how valuable he was to satirists of the time.

Looking back…

How, I wonder, would the diary of our generous host read?

Took sympathy on two pale English boys. They looked malnourished and limped due to blisters. Provided first aid and fruit, which they wolfed down like savages. In the morning they asked about our local schools. Strange creatures these English

The 8 mile walk to the HEP station ran alongside the river through a forested area. The route was deserted and a mangy looking dog trailed behind us for miles raising concern because it was clearly not right and there were signs warning of rabies. I picked up a stick in case it got too close but it stopped trailing us near to La Coucourde.

I captured a picture of the hydro-electric station at Saulce-sur-Rhone…

Photo 1 - Hydroelectric Station

Photo 1 – Hydroelectric Station

…another easy image to trace in the present day…
Modern re-creation in street view

The walking today was easy as we followed the flat banks of the Rhone. The power station sticks in my mind and is one of a number of distinctive buildings I photographed on our journey that has been relatively simple to trace on latter day google street view.

Photo 2 - The Rhone

Photo 2 – The Rhone

My attempts to photograph rivers are almost always a waste of time. I was probably attempting to capture the sun falling in the west over the far bank of the river.

At the outset of our walk the notion of pitching our tent in a park would have seemed adventurous. It’s a measure of our increasing confidence that we did so. Did we gain permission? It was a public space after all. Andy was more laid back than I was and may have persuaded me that it would be OK!

Map
In the absence of our original maps I have deduced the following route…

Distance walked: 14.4 miles (23.0 km)

 Key:
Start La Coucourde
Via Le Pouzin
Via Loriol-sur-Drôme
End Livron-sur-Drôme
Photo 1 Street view of Photo 1 – Hydroelectric Station
Overnight Camping location

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