Lessons on mountain biking or How Not to get to a bothy
Everything has just gone pear shaped. I hit the ground with an emphatic thud. My legs float skywards and I can see the clouds
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mountain
The story of my play. Mallory – Beyond Everest
Heroes Fall Hearts are Broken But Dreams Never Die A Tale of Life and Death on the Roof of the World Book tickets
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Poca Buidhe – The Stolen Bothy
It’s all very hush, hush. I’ve issued conflicting information on which Scottish mountain I’m going to camp on to confuse the opposition. As
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Mallory – Beyond Everest
My one man play about George Mallory is in rehearsal right now. It’s hard work but we are getting there. The play is
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The Bothy with no Name
It’s all going pear shaped, I’m running round the house looking for my head torch, my little stove and my set of pans.
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Maol Bhudhie – episode 2
(If you go two episodes back in the blog you can read the first instalment Judgement Day) It’s the morning after the walk
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Folk Lost on the Hill
The large black Labrador shuffled uncomfortably in front of the fire. He was, as is typical of his kind, an expert human watcher
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True North
This far North, in January, it never really gets light. I can see the sun peeping over the tops of the hills that
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Cotton Joe made it!
This is the guy I met on that wet day in Glencoul. See my previous two posts. Cotton Joe at the end of
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The Downhill Mountaineering Club
Part two of my Glencoul odyssey Sometimes you know in advance that things are not going to go your way. My plan is
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