Backpack Turkey to Egypt

Backpackers have long travelled this classic overland route. With so many variations and detours the opportunities to explore this region are almost endless, but for me [Marek Nusl] I've got 16 days off work to take my fiance on an intense adventure of a lifetime Istanbul to Syria.

Our story starts in the city which spans two continents. For centuries Istanbul or Constantinople as it used to be known has served as a gateway to the Middle East. Its a great transport hub boasting two airports and numerous options to arrive via land or sea. Id urge anyone embarking on an eastbound route to land on the European side, why?, it gives you the opportunity to cross the Bosporus, the body of water separating the two sides of the city. Local ferries criss-cross all day and this provides for a symbolic gesture, a right of passage of sorts, crossing the confines of safe Europe and blazing your trail to lands far from home. Istanbul itself has plenty to offer; in fact it makes for a fantastic city break. With Grand Bazaar, Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque, Basilica Cistern and much more on offer it would be easy to stay put, but unfortunately train schedule changes mean we only have one night here and the next morning, instead of exploring the city, were running in the rain to catch the ferry and then the train.

On the Asian side we come to the grand 18th century HaydarpaÅŸa train station building, a gift from an Austrian Emperor. We just about make it on time, buy our ticket and board. Our destination is Adana, normally a direct sleeper trains could take us but due to rail upgrades (to high speed rail) well have to make a detour and change at the capital Ankara where well board a sleeper train. The journey is a comfortable one, as the charming, slightly dated wagon weaves its way through gorges, and passes motorway construction projects that can be seen cutting there way through the rocks. The terrain levels out and over four hours pass before we arrive at Ankara, time for a quick kebab with some traditional Turkish tea before we board our sleeper service to Adana. The compartments are clean and modern, easily rivalling anything we have back home. The comfort can only be highlighted by the presence of a fridge with a few complimentary snacks and drinks, as well as a pair of Turkish Train Line branded slippers, which are ours to keep.

As the sun sets, and darkness falls we visit the dining car for a few pints of Turkeys Efes larger before we retire to our bunks to be gently rocked to sleep by the clickety clacks of the undercharge as our train steams into the night. The next morning we woke refreshed to beautiful green meadows below us. It takes me a few moments to realise we are actually precariously making our way along a steep mountain wall. We've no idea how far we are from Istanbul or how close to Adana, but it doesn't seem to matter as we continue to wake from our slumber. Its around 10am when we arrive at the town of Adana, a city of over a million inhabitants not often mentioned in tourist circles. Unfortunately we weren't about to add anything that hasn't already been mentioned as we've not much time to hang about. We need to make our way to the main bus station, fortunately there always seems to be a convenient taxi waiting at a train station no matter where in the World you are. We hop in and instruct the driver to take us to the Otogar Its times like this that I'm glad I learned a few words in Turkish before our adventure as the further east we travel in Turkey it seems English is less spoken or understood.

Its a good 10-minute ride before we are dropped off at the city bus station and surprisingly we find out way to the correct bus easily. We board the coach bound for Antakya. I'm genuinely surprised at the level of luxury these coaches offer the seats are like arm chairs, built in small screens in the seat backs entertain passengers, all for a very good price. Its a 3-hour coach journey and we arrive in Antakya our destination for the day. At first Antakya seems a bit rough around the edges, but it is not until we spend a few hours here wondering the streets that its charm begins to sink in. Set along a backdrop of mountains the city centre boulevard runs along the river, nestled within with vertical concrete embankments. The whole area is steeped in history and tales of crusades, its own republic and believe or not it is also said to be where the followers of Jesus Christ were first called Christians, fitting that wed arrange to spend the night in an old Catholic Church. We arrive only to disrupt an afternoon service consisting of the padre and two other people awkward to say the least. We enter the chapel and stay for the remainder of the service.

It comes to an end with the customary Amen and were grabbed by our hands and taken to our rooms. Clean, comfortable and refreshing, they open into a peaceful courtyard where the sounds and bustle of outside are kept at bay, giving me a sense of protection. We've spent such a short time here and I almost don't want to leave, but the schedule which I've put together months prior to this trip dictates that if I want to see as much as possible as quickly as possible its time for another coach journey onward to the Syrian Arab Republic. At the time of our trip, Syria's political unrest had just about started, though nowhere near as bad as it would escalate months further down the line. However, already at this stage it was proving hard to come by an insurance company who would take this risk on. Finally we agreed to forfeit the promise of re-partition/evacuation but should we be hurt, they would pay the medical bills. Its always better to be alive and in a danger zone rather than dead in a safe zone. Its another two hours to the border where were ushered out of the coach. No clue where to go, what to do, but it seems the bus driver is familiar with tourists and he adopts us like lost Western children and escorts us to the relevant building and the correct desk to be met by the border officials.

All in all its a straight forward process. Many questions are fired at us, with the topic of the day clearly being whether we are under cover reporters (I wish I was). You work for Hello magazine? rings around and constantly echoes; the officials clearly wanting to try and catch us out. With nothing to hide were back on the bus as it twists through the rolling hills and onwards to Aleppo. Getting lost in Aleppo Aleppo, Syria's second city is magnificent as we stand by the Bab al-Faraj clock tower clearly looking lost, a young local student asks us if we need any help. We explain were interested in seeing the city's famous Citadel, he offers to walk us there and we make small talk along the way. When we first make eye contact with the citadel, were amazed by its sheer size; its massive, intimidating and beautifully preserved. Its considered one of the oldest and largest castles in the world. The sites been used as far back as the 3rd millennia BC. The citadel, which currently occupies the hill dates back to the 13th century. For only 10 Syrian Pounds entry is gained and we walk up the intimidating bridge over a dried moat to the enormous stone archway. The mammoth structure is as impressive from the interior as its from the outside; its essentially a city albeit the ruins of a city with even its own amphitheatre.

Walking along the thick stone fortified walls you see modern Aleppo sprawling into the horizon. Afternoon prayers are sounded from the surrounding mosques minarets; you truly get a sense of a different world. Couples sitting in the shade, families on days out wounding round with no westerners in site, its a great way to spend the afternoon immersed in history. Our return stroll to the Spring Flower Hostel takes us though the city's souq, its network of covered narrow streets, which seem endless with jewellery, spices, fabrics, soaps and clothes on sales. As we stroll along were greeted by individual shop keeps, Salam they say as we acknowledge with a gentle smile and nod. After what seems like forever we somehow exit the busy souq area and we step outside to find daylight dwindling. Were also lost. We cant be too far off route but as virtually all guides suggest to simply wonder around we do just that and proceed though narrow old stone streets which are safe to say most likely unchanged for thousands of years. Its quiet until a group of local children playing football insist for a kick around with us so I find myself in an unprompted football match loosing.

A wave from me to them signals my departure and we continue to Aleppo's old streets till dark, feeling entirely safe in our surroundings. Exploring Dead Cities (Explore further with our article here) The next day we've arrange for a driver to take us for a tour of some of Syria's Dead cities; Aleppo is an excellent base to explore these sites. We spend most the day being driven from one to another while our driver waits till we've had our fill. The Dead Cities are scattered along Syria's North West region and are the remains of a past civilisation, long dead and forgotten. Its claimed that 40 ancient Christian Byzantine settlements dating back to between the first and the seventh century make up Syria's mysterious Dead Cities. Surprisingly, yet somehow quite fitting, the modern world has forgotten about these incredible and well-preserved ruins. Even UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation), it would seem, has overlooked these sites up until 2011, when they were finally recognised as a World Heritage Site.

Invading Krak des Chevaliers (Explore further with our article here) The following morning its time to move on from Aleppo and in the morning we find ourselves at the cities bus station again, boarding the bus to visit an amazing castle that I've read about. Were in for a two-hour local bus journey to the city of Homs here its a quick transfer onto a Toyota minivan to which were easily directed by the local bystanders elaborating KRAK? KRAK? it seems they are very familiar with the touristic itinerary, which thousands have taken before us, shattering any illusions that I'm any kind of trailblazer. Its a 40 minute ride before we've reached the Krak des Chevaliers, a 12th century crusader castle atop a 700 meter high hill surrounded by lush green valleys below.

The castle looks like it could be a page ripped out of a fairy tale book from Englands middle ages; you'd have no idea what you were in the Middle East looking at this scene. Lawrence of Arabia described this as perhaps best preserved and most wholly admirable castle in the world and who am I to disagree with that sentiment. Basking in the sun atop of one of the towers, weve virtually had the whole castle to our selves, with no health and safety signs, were free to explore every nook and cranny of this ancient fortification. The tranquillity is interrupted by the sound of my ringtone. I grunt but I see its my brother back home in the UK. I pick up, he informs me that Syria has once again made the headlines and border closures are expected, the FCO (Foreign and Commonwealth Office) is advising all its citizens to leave ASAP! Ah, this puts us in a difficult situation, weve not seen any evidence of this civil unrest and everyone weve come across has been kind and more than helpful. Emma and I think about what options we have, stay as planned or leave Syria early. Its hard as wed still wanted to see the amazing Roman ruins of Palmyra and experience Damascus, but we decided not to push are luck and we agree that tomorrow we will aim to head straight for Jordan.

There's nothing like the news of a possible civil war in a country you may be trapped in to slightly elevate your heartbeat. I try not to spoil my mood as we dine at the Bebers Hotel overlooking the Krak. We turn in for the night early as tomorrow is bound to be a long day, we just don't know how long. Escape from Syria Its early morning and our minibus drops us back at Homs, here a local bus takes us to the bus station in Damascus. Incidentally its worth noting that so far all bus stations we've seen in Syria are never conveniently located to the centre of town, they're normally a far while out with mini buses shuttling you in and out. This means we don't actually see any of Homs or Damascus when we arrive there. Its early but the place is quite busy with the everyday hustle and bustle that we have begun to expect. At the bus station were greeted by police who offer to take us to their small office on site, they examine our passports and ask about our plans. Then politely they hand our documents back and say, Welcome to Syria. In the bus station were told there are no buses to Amman, Jordan, and that they're all leaving for Lebanon.

There's a taxi driver who is willing to take us to Jordan, but only once he finds two more passengers for his Mercedes - were in for a boring wait. Finally two Jordanians answer his Arabic calls for passengers bound for Amman and they jump in. Were expecting an uneventful and tedious 3-hour drive. we were wrong. Southbound on a well-maintained motorway, we slow to approach a military checkpoint. Not much out the ordinary given the countries circumstances. Our driver exchanges Arabic with the official. Without understanding any of the language I do pick up on the fact that the exchange seems never ending and were not on our way, then our two Jordanian passengers get out the car and join the conversation. Sitting in the back of the car a bit like a lame duck I begin to notice tanks in the distance and military posts dug into the ground with heavy machine gun units eagerly fixated on turrets.

The official reluctantly allows our vehicle to pass but only after about 15 minutes of negotiating, they wave us through. I notice there are no other cars travelling in the opposite direction nor, any behind or in front of us, I to notice my mobile phone reception disappears as we begin to drive past burnt out police cars and charred propaganda images of Syrias President by the road side. Ten minutes down the road our ride becomes halted once again. Not by military checkpoints this time, but by burning tires set up as a barrier along the highway, plumes of black smoke emanating high above our position. There are crowds of people chanting, some with Molotov cocktails in hand, others with large bat objects with nails sticking out of the ends. Our car is swamped with onlookers all trying to have a glimpse inside. Our driver gestures for our passports, which we pass to him, a few individuals in the crowd then inspect them. Its a tense moment. I have no idea whats about to happen. Emma is clutching my hand as our passports are returned and we see smiles among the protesters, then waves and shouts of Welcome to Syria! and Syrian people are your friends!

Clearly satisfied that were not enemies, they allow us to proceed, the moods changed and they gesture the V sign with their hands; V for victory or peace, Im not entirely sure, but as we slowly move off I too signal out the back window. We build up speed and continue on southbound towards the frontier up until our driver is signalled to by an oncoming driver. We quickly come to another stop. They both exit their cars and meet in the central reservation. A few minutes later he returns, gets in the car, and abruptly turns back and shakes his head. Finished he says as he turns the car around it would appear weve missed our opportunity to flee Syria overland. Back we go, past the protesters again, past the military checkpoints again and eventually dropped off in a suburb of Damascus with a collection of travel agents and airline company offices on the street. Its refreshing to finally meet someone who speaks English, here I buy Emma and myself a ticket on the next available flight out of the country, to Amman, early next morning with Royal Jordanian Air.

We spend a night in a hostel and have arranged for a taxi pick up in the morning to Damascus airport. Flight time is an estimated 40 minutes to Amman. Hello Jordan On arrival, past the immigration I turn my phone on to see loads of missed calls and messages from home with worried friends and relatives. Ill soon get in touch to let everyone know all is fine but first we make our way to the neatly arranged car hire kiosks to see if there's anything reasonably available to help us make our journey onwards. Once the paperwork is completed were let loose on the roads in our blue Kia Rio, our destination, the quiet town of Madaba. Madaba is known as the Mosaic city, the town itself is easily explored on foot within a day. We buy a pass which allows as access to the large number of archaeological sites and parks and leisurely make our way along the route suggested in our Lonely Planet guide. Some of the highlights include the Greek Orthodox Basilica of Saint George where a 6th century mosaic map of Jerusalem is embedded in the flooring of the church. You don't have to be an expert to admire these mosaics.

At one site we really luck out as the guide keeps us behind one of the short tours, he looks around and gestures at the SSHH sign before us, pulling out a container of water, and spraying part of a huge mosaic on the floor. Now the colours truly come to light as the sun reflects from the wet individual coloured tile fragments. Madaba is well maintained, with plenty of small souvenir shops selling everything from ashtrays of dictators, to full-blown furniture and of course wonderfully crafted mosaics for hundreds of pounds. We spend a night here before the next stage of our adventure. From Madaba its a short drive though the Desert to Mt Nebo, where we make a short break. Mt Nebo is where the Bible tells us Moses first laid eyes on the Promised Land, and its pretty busy with tourists when we arrive. There's a visitor centre and museum on site. Its not hard work to reach the peak, a well-laid path, which takes us to the top viewing area where pilgrims can set eyes on the Promised Land.

The wind breeze provides relief from the scorching sun, numerous tour groups arrive and it begins to feel crowded. We make are way back to hear groups reading passages from the bible while other groups sing hymns. Its a short 20-minute break for us before we take to the road again. Good tarmac twists and turns downwards though the rolling hills; in the distance we see the sun reflecting on a huge body of water. Its the Dead Sea. The road leads right up to the shore and we follow the coastline up to Amman Beach where we intend to cool off for the afternoon. The sun begins to take its toll on our comfort. Amman Beach is located about an hour from the city. This is an official resort and entrance fee of 16 JDs gains you entrance to the complex; consisting of pools, lockers, and off course the beach. This is where both tourist and local Jordanians visit from the city.

Of course there's nothing from stopping us driving a few miles south pulling over by the coastline and jumping in to the sea without the need of paying for the privilege, however the Dead Sea is ultra-salty and the last thing wed want is constant itchiness of salt on our body's as we drive to Petra later in the day. We've all seen images of people floating in the Dead Sea due to its salinity, but I must admit I was rather sceptical as I ran across the scorching sands into the water. However once I'm submerged in the warm waters I feel the strange sensation of my body wanting to float, so I simply fall backwards to be instantly lifted by the salty waters. Its really strange how easily you float. Its a fun few hours and our backpack trip begins to feel like a holiday.

The waters are warm, and not as refreshing as Id hoped but the showers to wash the salt off prove refreshing enough. From the Amman Beach its a long boring drive to our final stop for the day, the town of Wadi Masi, home to the legendary Petra. The Dead Sea Highway runs along the Dead Sea for what seems like hours. The heat takes its toll. Our Kia, not being equipped with AC means we both are dripping with sweat. Its early evening until we reach the Valentine Inn and just in time for a well-earned beer or two. Petra (Explore further with our article here) Petra is truly an incredible site, the trick is to get there early in the morning, before the crowds, before it gets too hot, but also aim to arrive at the wonderfully preserved treasury a little before 10am as that's when the sun hits the faade and the different shades of reds, oranges and browns astonish visitors as they emerge from the Siq canyon to be met by this wonder. We progress slowly as were mystified by every cave and outcrop. It takes us 4 hours to make it to the Monastery at the end where a perfectly positioned cave provides shelter for a pack lunch with a fantastic view.

Unexpectedly it begins to rain during our walk back, this does little to ease the afternoon heat, merely adds humidity to the experience. Exiting Jordan From the town of Wadi Masi its about a two hour drive to Jordans second city and access to the ocean, Aquaba. We drive in to town without any clue where we should be heading but were channelled though various diversions and one way systems. Its with some chance we end up by our hotel. Aquaba is really an overnight place to bed down for us. We call the rental car people knowing where they can pick up their Kia, leave the keys at reception and head into town on foot to find a ticket office so that we can catch our ferry the next day to Egypt. We wonder around town, asking locally where we can buy tickets, enthusiastically everyone we come across is polite and eager to direct us, this in practice does not get us to our goal any sooner. Again, almost buy chance we see a shop front with pictures of ferries.

Upon entering we enquire for a boat for tomorrow, where after some gesturing were told to come back later. Later indeed, a different gentleman agrees to sell us tickets, tickets for a 6 hour slow cargo ferry which we must upgrade at the port for the fast boat which takes significantly less time. It seems like a totally roundabout way of doing things, but at last we can relax with the thought that tomorrow we set sail to Egypt. We spend the evening wondering on Aquaba beach; its rammed with local families enjoying the seaside as we sit on the sea wall with an ice cream and watch the sun set below the Red Sea. Formalities at the port again seem a bit over complicated, go to counter, stamp, and go to another for another stamp but we manage to board our ferry to Egypt, destined for the small town of Nuweiba. An hour later we've not departed, its boring and hot. We find ourselves sitting close to a group of other travellers from the UK and together we exchange stories of our travels. An Arabic announcement is made and its not long before we finally begin to leave port. As we sail were surrounded from three directions by the desert lands of Israel, Jordan, Egypt and Saudi Arabia all within sight.

Disembarking were herded towards a large warehouse type structure for customs and security checks. Its chaotic in parts, with little to prevent a lost Westerner just wondering of into Egypt with little more than an acknowledgement from the authorities. We negotiate a fare with one of the many taxis waiting around to take us to the laid back town of Dahab, a half an hour away for a few days of sun, sea and beach. Resting up in Dahab Dahab, is about an hour and a half south of the popular Sharm El Sheik resort tourists flock to, but for us our adventure ends here in a few days and well be flying back via the airport. Dahab used to be a very popular hippy retreat and the atmosphere is incredibly relaxed. Bedouin camps line the shores and it proves an excellent base to rest up. There's plenty to offer all at a lower price than neighbouring Sharm but with much more charm.

There are a few 5 star resorts but we opt for something a bit more modest but suitable for our needs as a room sets us back a mere 4 per night at Auski Camp, bargain. Dahab can be a Mecca for diving as well as snorkelling enthusiasts, the vibrant underwater life is completely alien to the senses. Not far is the notorious blue hole, which has claimed enough lives. If you rather stay above the waves then kite surfing is very popular here as is windsurfing. We spend our time relaxing, unwinding and reflecting on our travels over the last two weeks. Its been a mind-blowing experience. We've seen so much yet so little of what this region has to offer a visitor. For us its been a tiny spec of sand amidst a massive dessert we've sample and were eager to see more soon, one day.

We have a few more days here so I suggest there's one more story to tell, our story on how we climbed Sinai located about two hours away. Mount Sinai (Explore further with our article here) Nestled within the southern part of the Sinai Peninsular, Mount Sinai offers an exhilarating climb which rewards you at the summit with some truly amazing views of this mountainous desert region of Egypt. Moses Mountain, as its called in Arabic, stands at 2285 metres and is said to be the place where God passed to Moses The Ten Commandments.

Report of the activities carried out by a Geoscientific, mountaineering and photographic expedition to Peru

The expedition aimed to observe and document landscape changes in Cordillera Blanca and Cordillera Huayhuash of Peru, focusing on glacial and vegetation cover as well as human parameters.

The method used was repeat photography, an analytical tool capable of broadly and rapidly providing clarifications regarding landscape and land use changes within a given region (Byers, 2000). This was accompanied by interviews with local people and academic staff from the University of Edinburgh as well as reference to academic literature. The base material used for this research were historic photographs taken by the German and Austrian Alpenverein Expeditions in 1932, 1936 and 1939 as well as by F.D Ayers for the National Snow and Ice Data Center, Boulder Colorado.

Our comparisons show changes in native and non-native forest cover, extensive glacier recession, hydrological changes, urban expansion, increase in mining activity with contaminating effects on the local soil and water resources, and an increase in pollution due to extensive trekking activities. The expedition also aimed to climb in pure alpine style: Alpamayo 5947m, Huascaran 6768m and Yerupaja 6617m or Jirishanca 6126m peaks, depending on conditions. Due to logistic challenges as well as high objective hazards, the expedition members Aurel Salasan and Sergiu Jiduc managed to climb Alpamayo via the French Direct Route, Yerupaja via the West Face up to 6250m and Artesonraju 6026m via the South East Face instead of Huascaran. Besides the historic photographic reproduction, the expedition has managed to produce a large number of photographs showing geologic, geographic and geomorphic features such as: glaciers, flooding, mountain building, metamorphism and erosion, anthropic development and exploitation of the environment as well as photographs showing cultural and sporting aspects.

All expedition activities and areas visited have been video recorded. Introduction The destination area of our expedition, Cordillera Blanca (CB) and Cordillera Huayhuash (CH), are the most prominent mountains ranges in all of Peru. CB is a straight mountain chain, 180km long, with NNW to SSE direction, running parallel to the coast from 85 S to 10 S latitude. It also forms the main watershed. From a geologic perspective, CB is made of plutonic rocks that have penetrated into the layers of the Earths crust. These rocks consist mainly of light color granodiorite (intrusive igneous rock containing more plagioclase than orthoclase type feldspar), which can be found in the glaciated areas, forming the base of the peaks. Stratified rocks such as black slate (foliated, homogenous, metamorphic rock) surround the granodiorite. These seem folded and strongly compressed towards the crests (Kinzl and Schneider, 1950). Cordillera Blanca offers some of the best mountaineering in South America. Its advantageous position in relation to traffic routes and exceptional bold, high summits make CB an accessible high altitude climb.

From a climate perspective, CB has a tropical climate with two main seasons (dry and wet) alternating according to the distribution of rainfall. The rainy season begins in November and ends in April reaching its greatest intensity in January to March. The dry season occupies the other months and it is the best season to visit the two cordilleras. Cordillera Huayhuash is a compact sub region of Cordillera Occidental, 30km long with NNW to SSE direction, running fairly parallel to the coast from 108 S to 1024 S latitude. It contains sharp summits, six of which exceed 6000m. The geology of Huayhuash comprises limestone, interbedded with sandstone and shale. Volcanic activity is also present under the forms of cinder cones, hydrothermal alteration (sulphate minerals and iron oxide) and vertical hexagonal columns comprising lithic tuff. In some limestone beds, marine fossils such as ammonites and bivalves can be found. CH is home to some of the most spectacular and difficult alpine climbing in all of the Andes as well as one of the best treks in the word, known as the Great Huayhaush Trek (Frimer, 2003). The Deutscher und Osterreichischer Alpenverein (DuOAV) expeditions, created the world-renowned Alpenverein maps, using terrestrial photogrammetry from mid to high altitude photopoints. Moreover, thousands of glass negative plates and Leica photographs were also produced.

These historic landscape photographs provide a unique opportunity to qualitatively document contemporary landscape changes (Byers, 2000) The maps below show details regarding the photo locations and transportation links for the main research area, Cordillera Blanca as well as the trekking route in Cordillera Huayhuash. Fieldwork and Research Our expedition managed to reproduce 21 pairs of photographs. 11 of which are shown here in greater detail. Please see the following website for a more detailed presentation of our research. peruexpedition2012.tumblr.com/post/40098458420/fieldwork-and-research Adventurous activities Mountaineering was the main adventurous activity carried out during the expedition. The initial expedition climbing objectives included the ascent of Alpamayo 5947m, Huascaran 6768m and Yerupaja 6617m or Jirishanca 6126m, depending on conditions. Acclimatization was the first step we took in order to successfully climb these mountain peaks. For this purpose, the first 10 days of the expedition were spent in Cordillera Negra and Cordillera Blanca accommodating to the effects of high altitude. During this time, we trekked 40km along Cohup valley starting at an altitude of 3850m and ending at 5035m. Before Cohup valley, we made three visits up to 4000m in Cordillera Negra reproducing Alpenverein panoramas of Cordillera Blanca.

After discussing logistics with our contact in Peru and experienced mountain guide, Christian Silva Lindo, we realised that in order to be more efficient from both a mountaineering and field research perspective, it was better to climb Artesonraju instead of Huascaran. The latter was situated at the head of Quebrada Parron, a valley where we had several photographic objectives. Moreover, some sources consider Artensoraju to be the source of inspiration for the Paramount Logo, as the two are strikingly similar. From Laguna Paron 4150m, we crossed the north side of the lake and set the first camp at an area known as Timber Camp situated in a small pampa at the East end of the lake. There was an Italian team with porters already camped there. The following morning, we continued our journey by ascending the moraine crest through some steep grassy lopes, and skirting left of some smooth slabs before going up a couloir and scree terraces to the glacier edge. Moraine camp was set an altitude of 4840m. The next day, we crossed the Paron Glacier and some fairly dangerous crevasses at the East end of the glacier and set a high camp at 5200m under a serac. We left around 05:30 for the final ascent: 825m level difference of 45 -55 packed snow and ice climbing with some sections of mixt terrain, D+.

We approached the bergschrund between the seracs on the right and the mixed ground on the left of the face. Below us, 4 head torches were advancing fast a group of Tyrolese climbers were attempting the same route. Being for the first time at 5500m in this expedition, we were feeling the altitude effects: headaches, suffocation sensations and tiredness. Around noon, the clouds started to cover the surrounding mountain peaks and soon a complete whiteout prevented us seeing more than 30m in front of us. Moreover, the last 100m of the ascent were mainly on hard, sometimes brittle ice, 60-80 inclination. We thought about abandoning the climb but eventually reached the summit at about 15:00. However, we could not admire the summit view due to the whiteout. We abseiled the South East face using snow anchors and Abalakov threads already in place in the snow. There were 15 rappels in total. We reached high camp around 20:00.

The next mountaineering objective was situated in the Huayhuash range. After studying the snow and ice conditions on Jirishanca we realized that our proposed Cassin or Czech - Slovak Routes on the W and SW Face of Jirishanca were impracticable due to the massive bergschrunds, some 40m wide and the lack of good quality ice. We decided to attempt a climb on Yerupaja Grande 6617m via the SE ridge. From Laguna Jahuacocha, 4100m, we skirted the lake until we reached the entrance of the swale between the south lateral moraine of Solteraocha and the southern slope of Jauacocha Valley. A faint climbers trail rises through the swale and becomes narrow as it contours several hundred meters above the lake. There were many dangerous and exposed spots until the path turned steeply uphill and gained a plateau at 4500m. Our heavy packs made this ascent quite difficult. From here, we crossed a few boulders and climbed the crest of another lateral moraine towards the SE. We set camp at around 4840m, 200 meters north of a banded rock formation. From this spot we admired the fragmented Tam and Yerupaja West Glaciers as well as the surrounding peaks: Rondoy 5870m, Jirishanca 6162m, Mituraju 5750m, El Toro 5830m, Yerupaja Chico 6089m and Yerupaja Grande 6617m. Early next morning, we continued up the moraine, hitting the snowline at around 5000m.

After crossing a few crevasses, we entered the open Yerupaja West Glacier. The west face of Yerupaja was full of seracs and bergscrunds including a massive one that was crossing the entire face. We climbed up the saddle between Seria Norte and Yerupaja through some dangerous penitentes and crevasses. In the saddle we realized that we were actually standing on a massive cornice. Moreover, the entire SE ridge was full of terrifying cornices on both sides. These seemed very unstable and made us turn back to the col and set camp at around 5600m. The idea of a SE ridge ascent was abandoned We left camp around 04:30, on the August 27, carrying climbing, bivouac equipment and food and started to zig zag between the seracs. We chose a fairly direct line on the west face situated between the SE ridge and 1950 American (Maxwell and Harrah) route. There were sections of overhanging ice, massive crevasses and even a small incident where I was almost killed due to a TV size block of ice that dislocated along with my left hand ice axe. Fortunately, my partner was aware and secured me tightly, eventually managing to reach the edge of the serac. At noon, we reached a point at 6250m marked by a massive bergschrund. We looked for a safe ice bridge to cross for more than 2 hours, but soon realized how much the mountain conditions have changed since the last party had been here in 1998.

Moreover, due to the extreme afternoon heat, snow and ice was melting fast and avalanches were roaring down the face every 10 minutes. We realized the dangerous situation we were in and decided to abseil into the bergschrund and wait until the evening when temperatures drop and the snow freezes again. We stayed 7 hours in an ice cave, bivouacking on a platform deep into the ice. Sometimes, small avalanches were coming through the small hole above us. Around 20:00, we got out of the crevasse and scanned the bergschrund again for a safe spot to cross. Unstable ice bridges, brittle and overhanging ice and icicles, fatigue and bad weather forced us to abandon our ascent. We rappelled down the face using the snow anchors that we brought as well as Abalakov threads. After 18 hours we were back in our tent, extremely tired. We estimate the difficulty of our route to be: TD+/ED1 with AI5+ sections, 60-100 inclination, 950m level difference in total, of which we managed to climb around 600m. Alpamayo 5947m was the last mountain we climbed.

Without porters and with two heavy packs, Aurel and myself trekked the Santa Cruz Valley from Cashapampa to Llamarocal (800m level difference) - where we stayed for the night, and eventually reached Alpamayo Base Camp situated near Laguna Arhueicocha at 4300m the next day. On September 5, we climbed the Alpamayo moraine and glacier, (1200m level difference) and reached the col between Quitaraju and Alpamayo. We set camp below Alpamayo, at around 5350m. On the September 6, we left the high camp around 06:00 and climbed the French Direct Route, D+/TD, 50-90 inclination, starting at the very bottom of the bergschrund. 7 hours later we reached the summit of Alpamayo 5947m. Fortunately, this time the clouds allowed us to enjoy the surrounding view and take pictures. We abseiled the route, using threads already in place in the ice. Shortly after reaching the camp, a massive serac fell and avalanched our tracks. In one day we descended all the way to Llamarocal from the high camp, and on September 8, we were in Huaraz.

During this last section we trekked and climbed around 6000m level difference. A rough estimation of the total level difference climbed and trekked by foot during this expedition is around 30,000m. No porters or donkeys were used for these ascents. All climbs were done in pure alpine style. Due to time constraints and sensitivity to the effects of altitude, Sorin Rechitan was unable to accompany us in these ascents. Administration and Logistics A typical day in CB starts with a clear sky, the snowy peaks shine brightly under the first rays of sun. By 10:00 it is quite hot in the lower valleys and even suffocating heat around noon if the up current has not set in earlier, first in single gusts, then with increasing strength. Wind starts to increase in strength, lowering the noon temperatures but at the same time raising dust and sand grains. The summits and crests become shrouded with clouds. In the evening, the clouds start to dissipate, glaciers are colored a flaming red and eventually dusk sets in quickly. The up current from the valleys decreases in intensity and eventually settles down. A clear sky showing the stars and the Southern Cross spans the landscape. It seems that the further a peak stands out to the west, the better the snow and weather is. Our research material (maps and photographs) was obtained from the Alpenverein Library of the Austrian Alpine Cub in Innsbruck and German Alpine Club in Munich.

A few photographs have also been obtained from the National Snow and Ice Data Centre in Boulder, Colorado. The full material included 30 photographs, three Alpenverein maps, Deutcher Alpenverein (DAV) and academic journals and the comprehensive expedition report written by the Alpenverein Expedition leaders, Hans Kinzl and Erwin Scheinder, called Cordillera Blanca. Of particular significance was a monitoring and evaluation study carried out by the Mountain Institute in Cordillera Blanca in 1997 and 1998, - expeditions, which reproduced some of the 1936 and 1939, Alpenverein photographs. The paper, entitled Contemporary Landscape Change in the Huascaran National Park and Buffer Zone, CB, Peru, written by Dr Alton C. Byers produced several insights related to landscape and land use change within the area of interest. Yurak Janka, written by John F. Ricker provided us with more information regarding the geology, structure, flora, and fauna of CB, Peru. Before heading to Peru, we identified the GPS coordinates of some photo locations by using Google Earth and cross-referencing these coordinates with the Alpenverein maps.

For the mountaineering section of the expedition, the Huayhuash guide written by Jeremy Frimer, Mr Simon's Yates advice (Touching the Void) as well as the Summit Post website helped us to organise our ascents. It is important here to specify some of the problems that have arisen during our fieldwork. Ideally, the historic photographs should be replicated using the precise equipment used by the original photographer. Season, time/date and weather conditions should also be replicated as closely as possible. This was quite challenging due to practical and budgetary reasons and the remoteness and high altitude of the photo locations. The lack of time and the late departure date of our expedition, forced us to reduce the number of photo locations. We also tried to identify areas which provided both scientific and mountaineering interest, in order to double our efficiency. Nevertheless, the overall objective of high quality reproduction of the historic photographs to address landscape changes in the two cordilleras has been reached.

Moreover, insights regarding other problems that the local communities are facing have made us reconsider our objectives. Training for the expedition started seven months prior to our departure. This consisted of regular weekly gym sessions, swimming, running, indoor and outdoor climbing as well as taking supplements to strengthen the body such as minerals, vitamins, proteins. The climbing, technical and fieldwork equipment such as GPS, video camera, tent, half ropes etc. was partly provided by the University of Edinburgh School of GeoSciences, National Geographic Society, Explorer Club and Alpin Expe Mountain Shop Romania. Research and climbing permits were obtained on our arrival in Peru from the Huascaran National Park authorities situated at the entrance of a few valleys such as Llanganuco and Santa Cruz. Letters from the Expedition Council of the University of Edinburgh and Explorer Club Romania helped us to obtain these permits without the instructions of a mountain guide.

Fundraising was the most difficult aspect of our expedition. It started in January 2012 and included applying for grants to different worldwide mountaineering and scientific organizations such as the Royal Scottish Geographical Society and Berghaus Equipment Company. In July, National Geographic Society offered a Young Explorer grant, and along with the rest of the sponsorships from Romania and our personal contribution, the budget of $15,000 was reached. Financially, the proposed budget was relatively appropriate, however the parity between the Peruvian currency (soles) and the ones used by us (euro and dollars) was fluctuating. Therefore, we were forced to use more money from the emergency budget. Grants were sent electronically via bank transfer and we used cash as well as credit cards for payments in the field. However, the charges of Peruvian Banks for processing international cards are large so I would recommend bringing as much cash as possible. Travel Insurance was obtained from the Generali Insurance Group for the entire length of the expedition and also included cover for extreme activities such as climbing. Fortunately, we did not have to use it, as there were no injuries involved.

The Royal Dutch Airlines provided air transportation to Peru. For travel within the country we used buses for large distances such as: Lima Huaraz and Huaraz Cusco; minibuses, known as collectivos for distances up to 150km between research localities such as: Carhuas, Yungay, Caraz; taxis for some photopoint locations where roads have been built (Yanganuco valley and Cordillera Negra); as well as donkeys and horses for inaccessible places such as the Huayhaush chain. Recommended bus companies are: Movil Tours, Crus del Sur and basically all collectivos that you can find in Huaraz Collectivo Terminal. Donkey drivers are easily found in Llamac, a small village in the Huayhuash range and I recommend firm price negotiation and the signing of a contract to enforce the agreement between parties. Donkey drivers tend to change the agreement during the trek. Unfortunately, our expedition has cost the planet quite a bit as our calculated carbon footprint for the 7 weeks is around 7t/CO2. Regarding food, Mountain House Freeze Dried Food Company, UK, provided high altitude meals for the mountain ascents whereas Peruvian markets, restaurants and hostels provided the rest. Quite often we came across the impossibility of reading shelf prices in shops and markets, as they simply were not there.

Because it is quite common to charge foreigners a higher price than normal, I recommend that anyone travelling to Peru should get familiar with the prices for basic products and try to negotiate. However, Peruvian food is very tasty and we discovered this as soon as we arrived: our first Peruvian meal included a cooked Guinea pig known as Cuy and Pachamanca (closely related to Pachamama which means mother Earth). Pachamanca included three different types of potatoes, with pork, corn, cicha morada (a beverage derived from maize). Accommodation was mainly provided by our 3person, VE -25 North Face tent. We also used a few hostels such as Caroline Lodging in Huaraz, Backpakers in Lima, Tu Hogar in Cusco and El Inti in Puno. Caroline Lodging offers a warm and friendly atmosphere as well as breakfast, Internet (1 s/hour), free use of kitchen facilities, the possibility to rent climbing equipment and movies, support for, and organized trekking tours to places such as: Laguna 69, Churup Lake, coca oil massage, and even horse riding.

Communication with our families and friends was provided by an Iridium Satellite phone, for places with no GSM reception such as high altitudes. We used normal phones with roaming coverage in cities where reception was possible and Internet through the aid of a Blog, E-mail, and social networks) to communicate with the interested public. Weekly posts shared our evolution in the field with the world. Risks and hazards were assessed using the UoE Expeditions Council guidelines. The supporting body approved the risk assessment, which included an evaluation of the physical, biological, chemical and man-made hazards, personal safety, environmental impact and decision-making. High altitude and low oxygen concentration, extreme weather, rock/ice/snow falls and avalanches, microorganism poisoning, road accidents, pollution of the environment, and improper decision-making were taken into consideration. A complete first aid kit accompanied us in all treks and climbs. Specialist equipment included: a Canon EOS Mk III DSLR camera with three different lens systems: EFS18-55mm f/2.8, Canon 24-105mm f/4 IS and Canon EF 70-300mm f/4-5.6 IS; a Canon EOS 550D DSLR camera with two lens systems: Canon EFS 18-55mm, f/3.5-5.6 IS, Tamron AF 28-300mm f/1:3.5-6.3 IF and a Panasonic DMC LX2 28mm digital compact camera. For the video documentation of our expedition we have used a HD Sony Handycam and a Go Pro Hero 2 video camera.

Unfortunately due to the poor quality of the batteries, we used the GoPro little. Personal, photography and location release forms provided by the National Geographic Society were filled in by every person and landlord interviewed or photographed. For individuals lacking literacy skills a simple video acknowledgement was used. Diary Log I have kept a daily travel diary for the full length of the expedition. Due to space constraints this report will only contain a brief summary of this diary. After leaving Arad City, Romania in a minibus for Budapest International Airport, the expedition had officially started. From Budapest Ferihegy airport, we took a plane to Amsterdam were we stayed for a night at a hostel. I also travelled briefly to Ijmuiden to buy a SIM card and calling credit for the Iridium Satellite phone. The next day we flew 10,500 km to Lima, the capital of Peru a 12-hour long flight. On August 4, 18:15 UTC/GMT -5 hours we arrived in Lima Jorge Chavez International airport and experienced the first vibes of the Peruvian urban landscape: foggy atmospheric conditions, unfinished buildings, lots of cars and noise.

We only saw Lima from the taxi on our way to the Movil Tours Bus station. There, we booked tickets to Huaraz, and 2 hours later we were travelling to the capital of the Peruvian Andes. The journey was long, (8 hours) and cold as the bus lacked heating while it was climbing passes at 4500m during the night. We had a short glimpse of the Andean landscape thanks to the full moon that was lighting the Earth: an arid environment, lacking vegetation with the exception of a few cacti species. At 07:00 we checked in at the Caroline Lodging Hostel in Huaraz and also had the pleasure tasting some Peruvian breakfast: avocado, gem, margarine, coca tea and bread. Later, we met with our contact in Peru, Christian Silva Lindo - a very experienced mountain guide and Jose Luis Flores owner of a mountain shop, and sorted out the plan and logistics for the next few weeks as well as buying supplies and missing equipment for our ascents (stove gas, snow anchors, pitons etc.). Huaraz, was the main supply place for our research.

On August 5 and 6, we climbed to a few photo locations in Cordillera Negra to reproduce panoramas of Cordillera Blanca and Rio Santa Valley. The maximum altitude reached in this section was 4000m, and two taxis provided transportation. On August 7 and 8 we explored Quebrada Cojup, reproducing some of Ayerss photographs; acclimatising and reaching for the first time the altitude of 5035m. Unfortunately, Sorin Rechitan experienced altitude sickness symptoms and could not accompany Aurel and myself to this high pass. During this trek we also had the chance to navigate on Palcacocha Glacial Lake 4566m via a boat, thanks to the kind invitation of two young Peruvian workers. The first avalanche, caused by a serac fall was seen during this journey roaring down the NW face of Pucaranra 6156m. From the August 11 until August 15, we explored Laguna Parron and climbed Artesonraju 6025m. At 05:00, on August 17 we left for Cordillera Huayhuash.

The itinerary was: bus drive from Huaraz to Chiquian and eventually Llamac. Here, we hired Camilo Basilio and 4 of his donkeys to help us carry our equipment while trekking around the main peaks of the Huahuash. The next day, we signed the contract agreement and around 10:00 we were on our way to Quartelhuian. We reached the camp around 16:00 and to our surprise, the tents had already been pitched, thanks to Camilo. On August 19, we reached Cacanapunta pass, 4690m and continued our trek towards Laguna Mitucocha, 4270m where we set camp. Interesting folding and dipping strata near the lake made me go off track to document these features as much as possible. On August 20, after passing through Yanapunta, we reached Laguna Carhuacocha 4138m where one of the best views of Jirishanca, Yerupaja and Siula Grande can be admired. Here we found a piece of the airplane that crashed in Jirishanca in 1950, being owned by Mr Hermes, a shepherd that was living next to the lake. Photography was the main activity of the afternoon and evening. On August 21, we reached Rondoy camp, after crossing Garagocha Punta 5000m and almost getting lost and injured by a rock avalanche. It seemed that the shortcut proposed by Camilo was slightly dangerous and misleading.

On the August 22, we were heading towards Laguna Jahuacocha 4050m. From Sambuya Punta 4740m, we admired the heavily glaciated west side of Rondoy, Mituraju, Jirishanca, Yerupaja and Rassac. The view was breathtaking: massive fragmented glaciers, heavily eroded metamorphic and volcanic summits, and turquoise color lakes such as Solteracocha. On August 22, 23 and 24, we recharged our batteries at Laguna Jahuacocha, eating fresh truchas, potatoes, onions and maize thanks to the hospitality of a Quechua family. The wonderful view of Rondoy, Mituraju and Jirishanca we found truly inspiring. From August 25 until August 28, we were attempting to climb Yerupaja and on August 29 we descended to Llamac through Macrash Punta 4272m. On August 30 we were in Huaraz. The next three days were spent relaxing, eating, socializing and also suffering from food poising in Huaraz. From the August 31 until September 8 we were climbing Alpamayo. The next two days were spent working with Changes for New Hope, filming and photographing the organizations actions. We also had the pleasure to interview Mr Jim Killon, the founder and president of the association. On the September 11, we arrived in Lima and 22 hours later we arrived in Cusco. September 13 and 14 were spent in Agua Calientes and visiting Machu Picchu, the sacred place of the great Inca empire.

On September 16 we travelled to Puno and the next day we sailed on Lake Titicaca and visited the Los Uros floating islands. It was truly astonishing to find out that 3500 people live on floating islands made of bundles of dried totora reeds. We returned to Lima, on September 18, after travelling 23 hours by bus from Puno. Due to time constraints, we only stayed a couple of hours in the capital of Peru, at our friend Pablo. In the evening of September 19 we left Peru, to stop shortly in Amsterdam before reaching Budapest on September 20. The next morning we arrived home, in Arad. Unfortunately, I did not have enough time to tell the story to everyone, as two days later I had to fly to Edinburgh and catch up with university. Conclusion Our research has qualitatively produced some preliminary insights regarding landscape changes in Cordillera Blanca and Cordillera Huayhaush of Peru.

These include: extensive glacier recession and hydrological changes such as the formation of new glacier lakes, changes in the flow characteristics of glacier fed rivers, glacier lake outburst floods and changing flood severity and frequency, and an apparent increase in runoff; urban expansion, population growth and increased human influence on water-glacier systems through the construction of dams and drainage systems; an apparent stability in native polylepsis species accompanied by an increase in non-native eucalyptus and pinus species; an increase in cultivated lands; a possible contamination of the soil and water due to mining activities and pollution due to widespread tourism. The impacts of the shrinkage and disappearance of mountain glaciers in response to ongoing climate change will have many detrimental, social, ecological and economic impacts due to retreat-related hydrological changes. Unless the international climbing and trekking community solves the garbage issue in Huayhuash internally by creating incentives for good behavior, the beauty and ecosystem equilibrium of this mountain chain will be under threat.

Education and information must play a key role in the evolution of Andean communities in order better to understand the changes occurring around them, mitigate any negative effects and become self sufficient. Acknowledgements I should especially like to thank my university staff, Mrs Kate Heal, Mr Wyn Williams and Mr Anthony Newton who, from the beginning supported the project, and myself too, providing recommendations and constructive feedback as well as insightful advice. I also thank Christian Silva Lindo, whose knowledge, expertise, patience, and hospitality made our expedition, logistically possible. I thank too the Alpenverein librarians in Innsbruck and Munich who provided the historic photographs and the National Geographic Society for supporting the project and providing with us the opportunity to stretch our limits and seek further into the field of research and exploration. Special thanks go to Mr Horia Pasculescu, Mr Razvan Muntianu, Mr Vlad Lacu, Mr Glad Varga, Mr Alin Buda and the rest of my sponsors in Romania, as without their support, the project would have been delayed considerably.

Last and not least, I should thank Sorin Rechitan who provided photographic equipment and knowledge, therefore substantially increasing the quality of our material; and my climbing partner, Aurel Salasan, whose patience, dedication and climbing experience have made possible the ascents.

Bibliography

Frimer, J. 2005. Climbs and Treks in the Cordillera Huayhuash, of Peru. Elaho Publishing Corporation, Squamish, British Columbia, Canada. Kinzl, H. and Schneider. 1950. E. Cordillera Blanca, Peru. Universitats Verlag Wagner, Inssbruck. Ricker, J. F.1981. Yurak Janka. Cordilleras Blanca and Rosko. Alpine Club of Canada. Banff. Canada Academic Journals Baraer, M., Mark, G.B., McKenzie, M.J., Condom, T., Bury, J., Huh.K, Portocarrero, C., Gomez, J. and Rathay, S. 2012. Glacier Recession

Rock n Road with Water

Hitch hike to the alps - love it - hitch to France - paddle back to cologne. How cool would it be to come back by boat? Growing up along the Rhein and living in Cologne the river seemed like an invitation to explore the way back from the mountains.

Following the allure of the alps, Lisa and I decided to hitch rides down south from Cologne, leaving the bad weather behind. I was amazed how easy it was getting down, although we were fully equipped with all our climbing and camping gear. We met the greatest and weirdest people while hitchhiking. On our way down we passed really rustic villages and wooden chalets, some of them more than 200 years old. We were overwhelmed by the beauty of the granite in the center of the Swiss alps. There, at an altitude of 2500m we set up camp. With the great walls in front of us and the spectacular valley behind, we found good protection between the stones. Loving the higher altitudes we had good fun doing some great climbs in perfect weather.

After a few days the weather turned. We spent our time waiting three nights and days hoping for the rain to stop, listening to music, reading and playing iphone games. Eventually we decided to hitchhike down south, to get some sun. We were almost knocked out by the heat as we arrived near Lago Maggiore, still in our multilayered clothing and used to the cold...From there we hiked into a valley, and camped next to a stream, surrounded by big white stones and pine trees. Enjoying the warmth, the water, the fresh wild fruits and sitting next to the bonfire at night. After a few days and one good Mediterranean climb we had to get back into the mountains, for the last days of the alps. We didn't really want to stop climbing, but as we arrived in Metz and started to put together our inflatable boat, we started looking forward to the days on the river.

We quickly got the hang of it. Floating through a romantic scenery of wine-yards and steep valley slopes with old castles, we didn't rush to arrive at our goal Cologne. We slept in hay fields and between vineyards, ate wild berries which grew almost everywere and enjoyed the clear summer night skies. The river brought us back wholesomely.

Check out the report and tell me what you think! Jake http://www.climbmoremountains.com/#C4 www.facebook.com/Climbmoremountains"

Research on No Man's Land Part I

In the period 10 August - 1 September, 2010, 9 speleologists from 6 Bulgarian caving clubs(Caving,Vertilend, Helictit, Sofia,Academic, Sofia and Aida, Haskovo and Mrak,Etropole) - members of Bulgarian Federation of Speleology, together with 5 Kyrgyz cavers carriedout joint speleological expedition in the area of Ridge Kokshaaltoo - Mountain Tien Shan in SouthKyrgyzstan (Kyrgizia). Under the leadership of Kamen Bonev, for the first time in the history of Speleology in Bulgaria, Bulgarian cavers searched and explored new caves as high altitude. Theexpedition team consists of specialists in various fields of scientific knowledge - geology, biology,geodesy, geographic information systems and others. This allowed all sites to be mapped and to prepare a complete documentation on them.

An important part of the program was devoted togeological studies and surveying as geo-morphological assessment of potential of the karst area. Biospeleogical and zoological studies was made also. During the expedition were found 71 species of animals. Of these 70 species are reported for the first time around. Five species are found in caves. Fifteen species are established for the first time in Central Asia or in Kyrgyzstan. Ten species are supposed to be new to science and yet they describe. This indicates that the area of the ridge Kokshaaltoo much of an interesting zoological and bio-speleological perspective and have a future profound study.

Cave fauna Material was collected from seven caves. It includes spiders, opiliones, flies, mosquitoes, wood-lice and collembola. There were no highly specialised for life underground cave dwellers - troglobites. Most species are adventitious or using caves for shelter during adverse development periods of the year (mosquitoes and flies) or during hibernation (bears). Only part of the spiders and collembolas partially adapted to underground living species - troglofiles. They are collected only in the entry of or in caves with small length, where there are wet areas and where breed and develop. In the inland areas of the caves are only identified species using them for shelter during hibernation (bears, mosquitoes) or adventitious animals there. Observations during the expedition showed that conditions in the caves of this altitude are very favorable for the development of cave fauna. Due to the low temperatures in all the major caves the water is frozen in the form of compact masses of ice or ice crystals. This has led to a substrate with very low humidity i. e. dry. This prevents mold, fungi or decay of the available organic matter (feces of bears, grass for bedding, hair etc. in the caves, but it is the basis of food chains in cave ecosystems.The highest cave with cave fauna found in the time of this expedition is 3649 m. From there it was collected and one probably new to science species of spider species Lepthyphanthes. Successful results are due to the excellent logistical support of our Kirgizian colleagues from Asia Mountains Group under the direction of the veteran of Kirgizian speleology Sergei Dudashvili.

During the collaboration established close friendly relations between the two teams. Both sides have expressed mutual interest for the implementation of new joint initiatives in the field of speleology and multidisciplinary research on karst terrains.

https://sites.google.com/site/kirgisia2010/

Night-time Paddle on the Thames

It's hard to imagine that an icy, dark, wet November evening could potentially provide such a unique and fun experience. Throw a canoe and the Thames River into the equation and you'll soon forget all about this miserable winter, get active and start enjoying the sights of London in a way experienced by only a few.

Londoners and tourists alike flock to the many different tours and vantage points this great city has to offer, most recently the Shard. There seems to be some kind of instinctual urge, deep within the human psyche, willing us to find that perfect view; for Moo Canoe, it's a completely alternative approach which they have begun to successfully pioneer. This night-time experience, with small groups of 2-person canoes, really adds to the experience, as it seems the entire river has been opened up to only you. The occasional barges and clippers occasionally dash these thoughts, giving rushes of excitement as you begin to lurch up and down suddenly.

These winter months bring the dark evenings around quicker, as I casually arrived after a hard day's graft in the office, ready to unwind well after the sun had set. We started our mini adventure by Lighthouse, where we were met by Katy and Alfie, who kitted us up and went through the evening's plan. Kindly, waterproofs and additional clothing were offered to those who had left anything behind and, after introductions were made, a flight of stairs led down to the riverbank. White canoes with black patches awaited us, clearly living up to the 'Moo Canoe' name. Sitting in the canoes, we shuffled them towards the water and, moments after, we found ourselves gliding through the waters of the Thames. The Canary Wharf estate lights towering above us, lights twinkling far above and reflecting from the wet surfaces of surrounding glass-fronted buildings, the highlight, of course, was One Canada Square and the city's financial centres dwarfing our floating group. The first few minutes on the water are quite surreal but a truly amazing collection of sights. Safety was certainly paramount. Our instructors emphasised the importance of sticking close together on the water, especially in the dark. A vigilant eye was kept on us as we paddled downstream, as we marvelled at numerous sights we had seen before but from totally different perspectives.

A real treat so say the least. I soon realised paddling is hard work! My muscles began to strain at the constant movement and my 'technique', if it may be called that, was somewhat questionable. The instructors were on hand to put this right with efficient and helpful coaching tips. It was a little over an hour when we approached the spectacular Old Royal Navel College at Greenwich, before paddling at full speed to beach ourselves on the southern bank of the river for a well-earned rest. Dinner in the Trafalgar Tavern by the riverside was our interval treat. Less than an hour later, we boarded our canoes for the final return trip back as the tide started to come in. It was then that I decided to try out some photography, quickly realising the almost comic futility of it. It's literally a balancing act holding the ore, trying to stay with the group and taking photographs with a slow shutter speed on a moving canoe. What was I thinking? I gave up and enjoyed the rest of the ride back to Lighthouse.

The entire evening took three and a half hours and accumulated around 6 miles worth of canoeing. I was exhausted, my upper body ached and the buckets of splash-back from a childlike rowing 'technique' means my waterproofs were soaked. For this, I would certainly urge all those who are considering trying this out to realise the essential nature of waterproofs and, if you have any gadgets accompanying you on the canoe (cameras, phones, etc.), I would strongly suggest to bring an Aquapac to protect them. It's certainly an incredible experience, so who wouldn't want to capture this on film? Here's hoping you're more successful than I was! More info Moo Canoes Aquapac

This adventure was organised by Explorers Connect who are on a mission to make adventure more accessible. Sign up to their website to be notified of upcoming trips. Article from www.doinitonline.com "

South West Himlung Expedition 2012

South West Himlung Expedition. September/October 2012 Himalayan Map House NP107 1:125,000 Nepa Maps Naar Phu 1:60,000 The photos didnt do it justice, nor did they give us a proper indication that we would have to climb a mountain in order to climb this mountain.

It was the first view we had had of Himlung since setting off on the trek and it was becoming clear that we would need all 19 climbing days in order to have any hope of summiting. The trek in to Himlung begins in Besisahar, the starting point for the Annapurna circuit. We arrived here on the 16th September. The monsoon had not quite finished and it was relatively quiet for the Annapurna circuit, being a little early in the season. We were to walk as far as Koto (4 days) and then turn off the circuit into the recently opened Naar/Phoo (Phu) valley and so to Base Camp. The Naar-Phoo valley is different to many of the valleys that trekkers normally visit. It is very narrow and as you continue up the valley it becomes apparent that it is a predominantly a river valley and has not been greatly affected by glaciation in its lower reaches. Koto to Phoo takes about 3-4 days depending on rest days, and acclimatisation rates. Phoo is at an altitude of approx. 3950m.

On the 25th we went from Phoo to Base Camp, 4800m having got our first view of Himlung at the top of the terminal moraine of the Pangri Glacier, We would have to go up and over the 6400m massif in front of Himlung, a fact that we knew but seeing it for real brought home how difficult this may yet prove to be. When we arrived we discovered we were the only team at Base Camp. Prior to our arrival, a small Swiss team had left having only gone as far as Camp 1. Apparently they did not like the look of the section between Camps 1 and 2 and so flew out by helicopter 3 days before our arrival. This meant that we would be opening the route for this season. We were carrying over 1000m of fixed ropes and at present, it looked like we would be laying all of it ourselves. After a couple of days acclimatisation around Base Camp we had the first day of carrying to Camp 1 at 5400m which was located at the edge of the glacier at the top of a rather torturous scree pile. Camp one was 700m below but in view of Camp 2. This first carry took approx. 6 hours. We also got to inspect some of the route to camp 2. It was a lot more crevassed than anticipated suggesting that it was going to take a bit more time to find the route through. After another rest day back at Base Camp, the team went back to Camp 1 and spent the night, before once again returning to Base Camp.

On the 1st October Ben and I along with our Sherpas went back up above Camp 1 to try and find a route through the upper crevasse sections to get camp 2 established. It came down to one small snow bridge which was to provide the key to opening the whole route. We fixed ropes to 5900m. By now there were 2 more teams at Base Camp. We were able to negotiate some more fixed rope from them in return for fixing the rest of the route to just above Camp 2 and some coils for the summit ridge should they be needed. The following days brought some bad weather so the team rested/acclimatised as best we could. On Friday the 5th, Ben, Jon and I decided to go back up through the fixed ropes (now fixed to Camp 2) and check conditions on the face.

We found there to be sections of deep soft snow but no real avalanche risk so we decided to go for Camp 1 on the 7th, and establish Camp 2 and 3 as we went so that hopefully we would have our summit attempt, all going well, on the 10th October. We had lost some time with the route finding and fixing the ropes .The forecast for the period between the 7th and 10th was good, as we were starting to run out of time we decided to go for it. We would carry three tents for 7 of us, carrying them between camps. One of the team had had a bad cough for the entire time and was struggling to acclimatise so after struggling to get to 5000m on the 7th he had elected to return to Base Camp and possibly try again the next day. This was a real loss as had he been fit he was one of the stronger members of the team, so for load carrying duties alone, it did affect us.

The walk up to Camp 1 was now taking only 2 hours compared to the original 6 and we were moving to Camp 2, fully laden by 7.30 the next morning. The snow was still quite soft but we made reasonable time, covering the 700m in about 5 hours. The Sherpas were ahead of us and had our tents put up by the time we got there. It was a windy night but nothing like what was to come at Camp 3. The winds continued at Camp 2 all night but had abated by 9am so by 10am we were leaving Camp 2. Camp 2 to 3 takes about 6 hours and reaches a high point of approximately 6400m before dropping to a col at 6250m and the site of Camp 3. It is quite exposed here as it is at the head of the Nemjung/Pangri glacier valley and the winds have nowhere else to go but over this col. That night at Camp 3 we experienced wind speeds averaging 50mph and gusting at 60-70 mph. The forecast wasnt quite accurate. Our tents were roped down but that didn't stop the snow from getting in-between the inner and outer of the tents, virtually sealing us in. At this stage there were just four of us plus the Sherpas, one other team member deciding that camp 2 was enough had gone back to Base Camp. As can be imagined we got very little sleep and by 5am, nothing had changed. We knew our summit chances were slipping away.

We were still in our tents at 9am when I had a chat with our Sirdar. We weighed up our situation. On the list against staying up and waiting for a chance at the summit was, strong wind and no sign of it stopping, a loaded summit slope which had already showed evidence of a large avalanche, one member feeling sick another getting there. On the list for staying up, Ben and I were feeling OK; we had no real choice but to go down. It took about 40 minutes to get crampons and clothing on, get the tents down and get roped up. All the while the winds never let up. Watches were showing temperatures of -22 degrees, with wind chill we reckoned it was about -30. Ungloved hands took seconds to go numb, which they did as we struggled to take down tents and keep them from blowing away. As a gesture we put up some prayer flags at our furthest point and then began the slog back across the slopes to Camp 2 and out of the wind. It seemed so incongruous, there wasn't a cloud in the sky it looked beautiful but the wind was vicious, we could feel it freezing any exposed skin, particularly on our faces.

It took about an hour and a half to get onto more sheltered slopes and about 4 hours to get back to Camp 2. Struggling to put up some prayer flags, Camp 3, the summit ridge of Himlung in the background. Once we had reached less windy and slightly more consolidated ground, Jon who had carried his skis (most of the way) to Camp 3 in the hope of getting the first British ski decent of Himlung decided that he had better get some skiing in to justify the effort of carrying them all that way. So from the top of the plateau to the small col above Camp 2 Jon skied, and fell for about ten minutes before deciding he had had enough and putting the skis back on the packs and continuing on foot. We stopped at camp 2 briefly for some food then continued on to Camp 1, collected some remaining equipment and then on down to Base Camp which we reached by dark at 6.30pm. On the walk out we passed maybe 5 more teams on their way in to Himlung.

Given how cold temperatures had got to, even at Base Camp, it was not going to be overly pleasant for these teams. On reaching Kathmandu we found out that one of the other teams (commercial trip) had gone up the day after we had come back down. They reached Camp 3 and had attempted the summit. They did not make it and one member of the team suffered frostbite on his feet. Conditions had obviously not improved up there. Thankfully they all got down OK. This knowledge did help with the disappointment of not Summiting in the sense that we felt better about our decision to come down and not push on in those conditions. Considering the collective (in) experience of my team, and taking into account that we opened the route and fixed all the ropes and still made it to the camp 3 springboard for the summit, I think we did extremely well and I am very happy with the result. The company we used for in country Logistics (http://rolwalingexcursion.com.np) are excellent and I have climbed with our Sirdar (Furtemba Sherpa) before. He is one of the best I have worked with. For 3 of the team who reached Camp 3 this was a new personal best in terms of altitude. It was a steep learning curve but one that they coped with exceedingly well. Thanks goes to the BMC for its endorsement of the trip.

Also to Buff for the 5 Buffs each and lastly to Wayfayrer for providing all our high altitude food. South West Himlung 2012 team members; Olan Parkinson ( Irl) Sandra McCord (UK) Justin Featherstone (UK) Ben Reynolds (UK) Jon Fuller (UK) Claire Waterfall (UK) Furtemba Sherpa (Sirdar) Doame Sherpa (Climbing Sherpa) Ang Du Sherpa (Assistant Climbing Sherpa) Ringsee Sherpa (Cook) Nima Sherpa (Cook) Razinda Sherpa (Kitchen boy) Olan Parkinson. Expedition Leader, Himlung 2012. A note on the maps. The Nepa Map series puts the Base Camp in the 6A grid square, this is incorrect (for the current base camp) It is in fact in the 7A grid square between the 4800m and 5000m contours below the fork in the stream on the west of the square one quarter of the way up the grid square. GPS, 4850m N 28degrees 47.687, E 84degrees, 20.653 approx. The Himalayan Map house location is correct. 

Encircle Africa

Into Somaliland The 13 months of travel were hard, fantastic months. I was heading to Tangier, Morocco, from Tangier, Morocco. Strange perhaps, but returning to where I had started was a pre-requisite of circumnavigating Africa by public transport, solo and unsupported, for the first time.

It was an expedition I had christened Encircle Africa. I learnt within days of leaving Tangier that the term public transport is a much looser one in Africa than in Europe, roughly equating to anything that is willing to transport you and your 20 kilogram rucksack anywhere for a fee. The important factor was that I didn't have my own transport, and was morally barred from privately chartering any. Four of the 13 months were still ahead of me at the Somaliland border with Djibouti on the edge of the Gulf of Aden. I had approached Somaliland, the autonomous semi-independent region of north-eastern Somalia, from Ethiopia. In doing so I had abandoned the African coast at Lamu, Kenya, to avoid unsafe southern Somalia.

This was the first significant detour from the coast since leaving Tangier and heading west around the continent nine months previously. The temperature seemed to jump significantly as soon as I cross the concrete bridge designed for functionality rather than beauty over the plastic-infested dry Wajaale River. It marks the border between Ethiopia and Somaliland, close to the Ethiopian town of Jijiga. An old Peugeot bush taxi took me and five others the two hours to the de facto capital, Hargeisa. Built in 1953, the Oriental Hotel is the oldest in the capital, and one of the best in town; the management used to the whimsical desires of visitors trying to circumnavigate the continent it seemed. It was unusual for my meagre budget to stretch so far. I was usually looking for the worst hotel in town. The Oriental was one of the few multi-storey buildings in the centre of the city. Photographs around the reception area showed a torn shell of a building.

It had recovered well since the civil war, the collapse of Somali central government and the declaration of unilateral independence by Somaliland in 1991. The wide corridors of the upper floors overlook a central covered courtyard that acts as breakfast room and restaurant. My room looked out over the dusty roads dotted with the vast parasols of goldsmiths and money-changers. The money-men sat in the shade besides pyramidal stacks of blocks of grubby Somaliland Shillings the size of house bricks. Held together with rubber bands they equated to little more than 12 each. Wandering around the city centre, a few blocks of mostly unattractive utilitarian buildings, it was difficult to avoid falling into conversation, making Hargeisa a very friendly place. Elegantly dressed ladies in colourful wax cloth wraps greeted me in Mancunian, London, and Scottish accents.

The lingua franca in Somaliland is English, the state having been the protectorate of British Somaliland until independence in 1960 and unification with Italian Somaliland to create Somalia. Seeing the success of their homeland, a substantial number of people have returned from refuge in Britain. At 600 for a prime specimen, I couldnt afford a camel at the livestock market. There were almost as many good-natured but clingy children as animals. The camels looked nonchalant, perfectly suited to the conditions, their owners initials painted in vibrant green on their flanks. In contrast, the children were desperate to take in every second of my visit, despite the pleas of older citizens to leave me alone. On Independence Avenue I past a red post box made in Stirlingshire.

It was torn open like a ripped up inner tube of toilet roll. On a stone plinth the camouflaged fuselage of a MiG fighter jet sent from Mogadishu that crashed while attacking the city before independence in 1991. Since then, while the rest of Somalia has become a byword for chaos, internationally unrecognised Somaliland has quietly advanced, even housing a Coca-Cola factory. My circumnavigation saw me moving roughly northwards soon enough. I managed to get a place in an old Toyota Land Cruiser heading towards Djibouti via a rough road and a 20 hour journey time. We travelled from the late afternoon onwards, to avoid the heat of the day, in what could tentatively be called desert. Given the surrounding dryness of the environment I was surprised by the quantity of wildlife. Tiny dik-dik, antelope the size of a domestic cat, roam as the vehicle passes.

Birds of an astonishing variety of colours shoot by the open windows. A giant tortoise desperately tries to look inconspicuous beneath a scraggy bush, its limbs drawn in in sleep. The view became a little monotonous as the sun sank and it got increasingly difficult to decipher the objects around me. The ground was sand, the shrubs small woody-stemmed plants with small leaves. Our arrival at Boroma (twinned with Henley-on-Thames) did little to break the monotony, and as it got dark I tried to sleep, drawing in my limbs like the tortoise. The early morning eventually arrived, and saw me arrive at Zeila. How the driver found his way I couldn't say, with tyre-tracks leading off in all directions all the time. I would have liked to spend a little time in Zeila, the home to one of the oldest mosques in the world, but my lack of private transport prevented me doing so. I was also concerned for the apparent lack of water.

The Zeila I was expecting to arrive at was an ancient port. I began to believe the Gulf of Aden didn't actually exist, not catching sight of the muddy blue, flat and uninteresting water until the border with Djibouti at Looyada. My short time in Somalil and had ended, though my circumnavigation and the desire to be near the edge of the African continent would continue for another four months, until I reached Tangier and was able to remind myself that I had been there before, and the first solo and unsupported circumnavigation of Africa by public transport was complete.

Geoscientific, Mountaineering and Photographic Expedition to Peru

Expedition background, members, team and partners: A group of three Romanian climbers, (one of which studying Bsc Environmental Geoscience at the University of Edinburgh formed this years National Geographic Young Explorers team to carry a scientific and mountaineering expedition in Peru.

The expedition was comprised of three members: Sorin Rechitan (expedition photographer), Aurel Salasan (mountaineering and safety) and Sergiu Jiduc (logistic leader). It was funded in part by the National Geographic Society through a Young Explorers Grant as well as private companies and individuals from Arad, Romania. Other organizations with whom we collaborate includes: The National Snow and Ice Data Center, Boulder, Colorado, USA (NSIDC), The Mountain Institute, Deutcher Alpenverein Club and Austrian Alpine Club. Expedition aims: 1) to reproduce older photographs made by the 1932, 1936 and 1939 Alpenverein Expeditions to Cordillera Blanca and Cordillera Huayhaush of Peru. 2) to compare the old and new photographs and interpret the landscape changes that occurred in the last 80 years. 3) to identify such changes in glacial, vegetation cover as well as human impact evolution 4) to film and photograph the entire expedition, focusing on field activities such as research method, video interviews with local people, climbing etc. in order to create a high quality documentary and photographic exhibitions 5) to provide interested organizations such as the NSIDC and Mountain Institute with updated photographic and video material.

Brief Description of research/activities conducted during expedition: After our arrival in Huaraz, we met with our contact in Peru, Mr Christian Silva, mountain guide, with whom we identified the photo locations more precisely using his knowledge of the area, GPS coordinates and Alpenverein maps. After sorting out logistics we spent three days climbing above 4000m in Cordillera Negra to reproduce six panoramas. Next, we visited a few valleys such as Cohup, Yanganuco and Paron, where we looked at flooding, glacial and vegetation characteristics reproducing more Alpenverein photographs. We stopped the field research for a few days as Aurel Salasan and Sergiu Jiduc climbed Artensonraju 6025m via the South East Face, D+, 800m, 45-75. The climb has been video recorded. Next, we moved to Cordillera Huyahuash, where we hired four donkeys, a horse and a donkey driver and trekked around Jirishanca, Yerupaja and Sula Grande for six days and reproduced a limited number of photographs. After two days of rest, Aurel Salasan and Sergiu Jiduc attempted a serious climb on Yerupaja 6617m, via the West Face 1000m level difference, the second highest mountain in Peru.

This proved to be a very dangerous and demanding climb and due to the high objective hazards (avalanches, bergschrunds, overhanging seracs) we were forced to hide in a crevice for seven hours at 6200m. Eventually, we abseiled the west face using V-threads and snow picks. Back to safety, we left Cordillera Huayhuash and moved to Santa Cruz valley in Cordillera Blanca. Here, we reproduced more photographs and climbed the beautiful Alpamayo mountain 5947m via the French Direct Route 600m D+/TD, 65-90. In Huaraz, we were involved in a social program with Changes for New Hope an organization preoccupied with the improvement of the lives of children living in the Peruvian Andes. During the last week, we visited Lima, Cuzco, Machu Picchu, Puno and Lake Titicaca with the Los Uros floating islands. On the 19th of September we left Peru and after 20 hours of travelling, we arrived in Arad, Romania Expedition outcomes and benefits:

The expedition has been a great success, managing to reproduce around 23 Alpenverein photographs, and taking hundreds more with great scientific importance. Interviews with local people have pointed out serious problems regarding the illegal mining and contamination of the areas visited. Preliminary comparison of photographs shows great changes especially those related to glacial characteristics.

The expedition material is being processed by National Geographic Society and our team and will be transformed into scientific papers, travel journal, photographic exhibitions and probably a TV documentary. The NSIDC and the Mountain Institute are interested to update their database with our photographic material and last but not least, all expedition members have learned a lot about running a scientific research project and collaborating with science based institutions as well as people from a different country.

Diving Bikini's Nuclear Fleet

The nuclear wrecks of Bikini Atoll are universally recognised as one of the top ten dive sites in the world. Sadly there is no longer a dive operation on Bikini, but back in 1999 when there was, I had the opportunity to experience diving this incredible submerged museum to the atomic age. Lying 4500 miles off the west coast of the United States, at the northern end of the Marshall Islands, Bikini Atoll was the site of the fourth and fifth nuclear bomb detonations, in mid 1946. 73 target ships were assembled in the atolls lagoon and subjected to two atomic blasts in Operation_Crossroads.

Nine of the target ships remain on the 50m deep lagoon floor, a couple of miles offshore in the depression left by the second (Baker) test. In May 1999 Chris Lewis and I, both experienced technical wreck divers, made the pilgrimage to the Marshall Islands. The journey to Bikini took us from London, Heathrow, over the glacier covered mass of Greenland, across the USA for a short stop at Los Angeles and then on to Hawaii. Here we had a day to explore the museums and monuments at Pearl Harbour before continuing our journey to Majuro, capital of the Marshall Islands, crossing the International Date Line on the way. With our body clocks now completely messed up, we managed a few beers and an overnight rest before the weekly Air Marshall Islands flight out to Bikini, still 600 miles of island hopping away. The landing strip at Bikini is on the island of Eneu, with an eight mile boat ride to Bikini Island itself.

The substantial excess baggage cost to transport our diving kit from Majuro to Bikini had precluded the option to add the weight of a case or two of beers for the week ahead (not that drinking and diving should be mixed). Big mistake! We arrived to discover that the boat skipper had just consumed the very last of the beer supplies on the island! Even more distressing was the later realisation that we were never actually charged for the excess baggage!! The diving operation was set up to cater for up to 12 divers, with air conditioned accommodation, air compressor and nitrox (oxygen enriched air) mixing facilities. With the nearest recompression chamber 1700 miles away on Johnston Island and a once weekly flight in and out of Bikini, diving practices had to be completely safe. All the wrecks were permanently buoyed and decompression stops were carried out a trapeze suspended from the dive boat, with oxygen rich surface supplied gas. As it turned out, Chris and I were the only divers there for the week!

There are only a handful of inhabitants on the island; a couple of environmental monitoring people, a few caterers and cleaners and the few running the diving operation. The main dive boat, Bravo, was broken down when we arrived, leaving only a landing craft to dive from (and transport us from the airstrip), at least for the first part of the week. Lucky there were only two of us! The most celebrated of the ships sunk in the lagoon are probably the aircraft carrier USS Saratoga, the battleships USS Arkansas and HIJMS Nagato. These ships are all huge and necessitate quite a few dives on each to gain a reasonable appreciation of them. As I mentioned, Chris and I were the only divers there, so our guide, Anton, was able to indulge us. We dived the Saratoga 5 times, there being so much to explore on this 900 foot long aircraft carrier, with access to the aircraft hanger decks, still with aircraft present in varying states of preservation, in the company of 1200lb bombs and the like!

Other dives took us through the accommodation and recreation areas, barbers shop, radio and other control rooms and the bridge area as well as to an Avenger aircraft lying on the lagoon bed someway off the aft port quarter, returning to the main wreck along a line of anchor chain to take in the enormous propellers. The upper superstructure of this wreck rises to within 12m of the surface from the 52m at the propellers, making for some truly spectacular diving! The Japanese battleship Nagato, Admiral Yamamotos flagship at Pearl Harbour, lies upside-down with her four massive props and twin rudders uppermost. The decks are suspended a few metres away from the lagoon bottom by the central superstructure, enabling access to the giant 18 inch guns and their turrets in-between. Some excellent dives through the passages and rooms within the ships interior were undertaken. The bridge structure has been broken off, presumably striking the bed of the lagoon as she rolled over, and lies stretched out to the port side of the wreck, making it easy to explore.

The US battleship Arkansas sustained significant damage from the undersea (Baker) detonation and the massively thick armoured hull can be seen crumpled like paper from the shock wave. She again is turned turtle with the large main guns protruding from between the decks and lagoon bed. The lesser well known, smaller wrecks make equally good dives but are easy to explore in one or two visits. During the week we also dived the destroyers Lamson Anderson, the transport Carlisle and the submarine Apogon. All the wrecks, to varying degrees, exhibit damage demonstrative of the immense power of a nuclear blast. A very unique and sobering experience. As the week progressed, the visibility in the lagoon improved and on a number of the dives we could see that we were regularly being watched by cruising sharks. The main dive boat was encouraged back into life, making the 2 mile journey to and from the wrecks a lot more comfortable than the landing craft! Entertainment on the island was pretty non-existent.

The small collection of buildings that remain of the settlement, built to accommodate the US military during the nuclear tests, includes a small cinema which we had all to ourselves. Sadly though, not a great selection of films. We were fed pretty well in the rather basic canteen, the two of us with plenty of choice of where to sit each mealtime. The bar, situated picturesquely on the white coral beach overlooking the azure blue waters of the lagoon, was completely dry! At the end of the week, we were sad to leave behind the stunning wrecks and classic tropical island scenery of Bikini Atoll, but very glad of a few cold beers when we reached the scruffy environs of Majuro, our first stop on the three day journey home.

These were the days before the advent of consumer digital camera technology and between us, Chris and I obtained a collection of not particularly high quality but memorable still and video images from above and below water. Some of Chris' stills have been included here.

The video story I made of the trip as a personal record can be viewed at: https://vimeo.com/37944683 (17 mins long well worth a watch if you're a wreck diving fan). We both feel very privileged and fortunate to have had such an opportunity and amazing experience."

More people have been to the Moon

Cave Diving Exploration really is the last frontier of true exploration. Mountains have been mapped, seas have been scanned by sonar and even the moon and planets have been studied. But the spaces under the earth really are unknown until somebody visits them in person.

Over the last few years I have organised cave diving expeditions to the south of France to push caves beyond their known limits and map places on this earth that no other human has ever seen. In 2002 my caving club visited the Herault department of France, an hour north of Montpellier in the Languedoc-Rousillon region. It was to be my first of five trips to the area, many of which yielded new discoveries, fantastic diving and interesting caving. At the age of 21, having been caving on and off since my early teens, I was truly bitten by the caving bug and it wasn't long before I began cave diving. The Herault is mainly a limestone expanse, carved up by deep river valleys, gorges and speckled with dusty, dry limestone plateaus and scrubby bushes, which hide a wealth of potential cave entrances.

The area is probably best known for the excellent red and ros wines, natural features such as the Cirque de Navacelles, showcaves such as Clamouse and Dargilan and canoeing down the stunning river gorges such as the Vis and Herault. The area is breathtakingly scenic but my friends and I don't go there for holidays. We go for the caves. For cave divers, the potential for exploration is tantalising. It is not a cave diving tourist hot-spot like the Lot or Dordogne. The access to the caves in the Herault, either on the surface or underground, is time consuming and physically demanding, requiring large teams and logistics. There are much easier sites to dive in France, so the majority of divers go elsewhere. In 2007 some friends and I went to a cave called the Calaven de la Seoubio, which I had first visited in 2003, to see if the cave could be pushed any further. Three trips into the cave to set up and haul out equipment, plus 11 hours on the day of the push, yielded about 70m of new cave passage beyond 7 sumps (the 8th sump had become an air space due to low water levels).

The local caving club, the CLPA headed up by Nathan Boinet, had supported us enthusiastically and it was an email from them that encouraged me to go back to the area and look at a cave called the Perdreau-Fourmi, which had been left unexplored by a British team who were unable to find a way on. A team of four divers, Joe Hesketh, Osama Gobara, Richard Walker and me, found the way on underwater in the second sump and we left the cave ongoing but well surveyed, as time on our trip ran out. 2012 was to be a return, to continue pushing the cave and also to take a look at another system called the Garrel, which the French cavers had asked us to dive. The Team The 2012 team was Richard Walker and me again, assisted by Jarvist Frost and Tim Webber, both members of our section of the Cave Diving Group back in the UK. Sadly Osama and Joe could not make it this year but were wholly supportive in our continuing explorations. This year we had help from Andras. Although an experienced cave diver, he mainly dived backmounted and was only just learning sidemount techniques.

He had also never done any dry caving, so he was given lessons in rope techniques so that he was able to help us with our exploration. He enjoyed himself immensely. We were also assisted by the CLPA caving club and their help was valuable in shifting equipment in and out of the dry cave passage, negotiating ropes and boulder squeezes. We had two main objectives in this trip. The first was to take a look at the sump in the Garrel, called the Siphon de Pas Perdus. Nathan Boinet had dived it once and 45m into the underwater passage, had come across an underwater squeeze which he did not fancy taking on. He handed the job over to us and Tim and I planned to take a look at it. Here follows our Blog report of the exploration: It was not a pretty sight at 9am this morning! Last year we were chased all over the French countryside by Jean Tarrit and his friend, Jean-Claude, who were desperate to find us and show us an exciting dive site in a cave called the Garrel.

I had visited the Garrel in April 2003 and remember it as an easy, dry and pretty cave with no tackle required. I don't recall there being a sump, but Nathan Boinet, the local activist in these parts, had been dipping his toe in the sumps at the end of the system, some of which came to nothing early on and one which was looking to go but he was diving back mounted 7 litre cylinders and couldn't fit through the troiture (squeeze). So, we were invited to take a look using our techniques anglaise (sidemount) and were promised a large group of slaves from the CLPA to carry all our equipment. We were due to meet the French cavers at 9am near St Jean de Buges but the troops were not to be rallied. Tim Webber and Jarvist Frost arrived last night having made awesome time but they were paying for it in exhaustion. Duncan Smith and Elaine Hill also arrived yesterday but Elaine was staying firmly between her tent and the toilet block, having eaten something dodgy. So Duncan was up and about, Rich was dragged out of his pit by me and there was no sign of life next door.

The plan was for Tim and I to take a look at this squeeze and see if we could pass it. I would go first and sort the line and have a look, then, assuming I would be too fat to fit, as Nathan had insisted on a thin diver, I would hand over to skinny Tim to continue. So, having had a minor epic trying to find bread for breakfast, we got on the road and Tim would show up later with Jarvist in tow. The French team were at the side of the road, half kitted up and there was a buzz in the air. Lots of banter and greetings and introductions went around and after a degree of faff, we set off minus SRT kits. This concerned us a little as the others all seemed to have them.Nathan assured us that the climbing was easy and we werent to worry. So we didnt. Five minutes in to the entrance we were met with a 15m pitch!! Never mindThe French guy ahead of me descended and Duncan behind me lent me his descender. I attached it to my belt, abseiled down the pitch and sent it back up the rope.. I could see this being quite a fun trip for those of us minus rope gear! However, the French were obliging and over the course of several rope climbs and abseils, I employed just about every technique in the book including those with red crosses through them! I used a stop, figure of 8, Italian hitch and krab, one or two jammers depending on what I could scrounge at the time, a full kit at one stage loaned by Jean-Claude who can free climb just about anything someone elses cows-tail hauling me from above and quite a lot of brute force and ignorance!! It was excellent fun and Jean was correct in his time estimation.

It took 4 hours to get our teams and two sets of divers gear to the sump. There was climbing, crawling and boulder chokes by the bucket load and it was very, very hot and sweaty in there! But the banter and morale kept everyone going with frequent breaks. We arrived at the sump and it was large, blue and clear and very inviting. I was desperate to get in and cool down!! Everyone arrived on the boulder slope and began unpacking their lunch. It was a natural amphitheatre, with graded seats for the cavers to watch the divers kit up in comfort. We treated ourselves to sausage roll, taboul, bread and cheese. Nathan became insistent that it would be better for two people to dive together as the second diver would not get to see anything. I was unsure about this, but as he had dived it and we hadnt, we went along with his suggestion and Tim and I kitted up together. The line was broken at the very beginning, so we tied the reel off and set off down the sand slope in zero visibility. I went in front with the reel and we laid 20m of line until we found Nathans broken line in situ. We tied into it at a good belay and the water suddenly became crystal clear as we moved away from the sand slope and into a level passage with a boulder floor, about 3m high and 5m wide. We patched up the line in one place where it was needed and soon came to the end of Nathans line, marked with a 45m tag, just at the start of the squeeze.

I had a good look at it and it didn't look to bad, so after a quick chat with Tim, I set off through the squeeze and passed it easily, stopping for a moment to make a good tie off at the end, before turning slightly rightwards into bigger passage. Tim duly followed and continued tying the line off behind me. We moved forward until the passage seemed to come to a bit of a break down and spotted a higher passage so moved on up into that and went forward some more. We laid about 42m of new line altogether after the squeeze. The biggest problem in this sump was the visibility. It is a static sump so there is no flow to help you. The silt seemed to rain down in clouds from the roof probably because there had never been any air bubbles in there before to dislodge it. Furthermore, the roof sloped upwards so bubbles were travelling up the roof ahead of us and raining silt clouds down like swirling mists of powder, right in front of our noses and interfering with our visibility. This problem began to obstruct progress and I got to a bit of passage where the way on was less obvious and it looked to be breaking down. I stopped to have a good look and was engulfed in red swirling powder so I thumbed the dive and tied the line off, cut the reel free and we set off back home in awful viz. Following the thin line home was much easier than I anticipated and we soon arrived at the sand slope and looked up to see the dozen or so cavers lights glowing on the embankment in expectation, all staring at us through the ripples on the surface of the water. I gave Nathan and the expectant audience a brief explanation of what we had found in dubious French and received a round of applause and what looked like an explosion of paparazzi!! We cleared up, had some water and food and started the journey out en masse, which was not without amusement! Still minus an SRT kit, I scrounged all sorts of items on the way home.

The other Brits were having similar epics and we ended up fighting over the sole karabiner for use with an Italian hitch! The journey out was a little slicker and we stopped in the Salle de Dejeun which Jean explained was the resting place for the original explorers. We arrived at the last pitch and I was given an SRT kit from somebody and made my way up the pitch. Rich was also donated a kit from somewhere but I have no idea how the others got out! I arrived at the traverse line and was faced with a French caver, lying on his side looking like he wanted to die! He said in English (cue French accent): Christine, please can you help me..? Can you take my equipment because I am very, very tired. I said Of course! He went on to explain: I cannot feel my arms or my legs any more! Poor guy! He had left his jammer on the rope and couldn't face the return journey of all of one metre to retrieve it!! I offered to take his bag the last 15 metres of uphill crawling and he insisted we do it together! We surfaced to the flashes of cameras and dusk was settling.

A gang of us returned to the campsite for a great BBQ cooked by Rich and far too much wine! A grand day out! Perdreau Fourmi Monday evening we set off for the Event de Perdeau-Fourmi, a cave our team left ongoing at 30m depth in the second sump. It was a remarkably easy carry this time up the river bed. Rich and I shifted gear through the boulder choke whilst listening to the delightful sound of tap-tap-tapping as Jarvist set to work putting some bolts in and he and Tim set up an elaborate but excellent cable car system for hauling larger cylinders. The plan was to have a set-up dive to make the air-bell in between sumps more user friendly for big cylinders and for getting in and out of both sumps. We made light work of it and all the gear - 4 divers worth of equipment - was assembled at the top of the pitch by 6pm. Tuesday. It was time to see what Oz and Joe had done with my line reel in the passage Rich and I found last year, and on Oz's advice, to check it really was still going before we threw a big team and trimix at it.

We were very lucky to have Jean Tarrit and Claudine from the CLPA come along to help us underground and they did a great job of getting everything down to the sump's edge in under an hour. Jarvist and Tim set off into the sump wearing equipment I am too young to have ever seen before....but it seemed to work as they crossed the sump, tidied the line so that it was tight and immaculate and they preserved the visibility well. Rich and I were to follow about 30 minutes later to give them a chance to rig a ladder to make climbing out of sump 1 much easier and to place a few bolts for ropes and general helpful tatt. They did a great job and Rich and I kitted up whilst Jean and Claudine went up the ropes to get warm and get lunch. We crossed the sump easily and had the luxury of walking straight up the ladder fully kitted without breaking sweat and straight down into sump 2.

We dived to the end of the line, surveying last years new passage again as we went and hit 30m depth and my line reel. The line had been beautifully laid by Oz and Joe and the reel was well tied off at the end. I shone my cave-hunting torch down the ongoing passage and could see large cave ongoing for at least 20m. Satisfied, we cleaned up and left, very much looking forward to the return trip on Friday, to allow the viz to settle after a couple of days. D-Day I would be lying if I said I wasn't just a bit nervous or under pressure the night before this dive. Our last attempt was thwarted by my failed attempt to pass the almost vertical rift in zero visibility, which we now realised was due to a very loose, sloppy polyprop line. We had made attempts to fix it, but ultimately, it needs to come out and a heavy line put in. We had a quick breakfast and drove over to the parking spot to meet the French from the CLPA, who were keen as ever to help us.

After a lot of banter and greetings, Jean, Etienne and three others offering surface support, set off to the cave entrance and shifted the gear through the small boulder choke. this consisted of a pair of 12s, a pair of 15s, two deco bottles of oxygen, and 4 7litre bottles for Jarvist and Tim, plus all sundry bits and bobs you need for diving, like masks, fins and regs etc. We embarked on a mammoth lowering session which involved pulley cars and 'staged' people but it worked fantastically and all the gear was at the bottom of the pitch in not much more than an hour from leaving the surface. Jarvist and Tim were to kit up first and cross sump 1, with the plan to shoot a bit of video and help us out of the water with our large cylinders. They also carried our oxygen deco bottles, which was very welcome. Once they had set off, Rich and I got kitted up slowly and with some help from Andras (Kuti), it wasn't the nightmare we envisaged. We had a 12l and a 15l each of 18/45, as we were expecting the cave to go deeper and wanted plenty of gas to allow for surveying at depth. A pair of 12s would have been ideal, but we didn't have any - and so it was.

Rich and I dived to the air-bell and Jarvist and Tim did an excellent job of helping us un-kit and carefully pulling our big bottles up the slope, to get them ready for re-kitting in sump 2. I got into the water first and with a little help, managed to kit back up again in the narrow rift and float around a bit, trying to keep warm whilst Rich went through the same process. We were handed our deco bottles and had agreed to get them to the other side of the 'annoying flop'. Sump 2 is a very short dive to another air-bell which is passable by belly flopping over a narrow rock bridge which gets in the way. We passed our deco bottles over this and I found a good place at 6m to drop them, quite close to airspace. We set off with the intention of picking up my line reel from where Oz and Joe had left it last year. The cave appeared to be going deeper, but on recent inspection, it may stay at -30m for a while at least. We set off along the rift and the viz had cleared from our last dive a little, but it was not perfect despite being given 2 days to settle. We continued for a while and were both very surprised to meet an upwards line into airspace. Somehow we had overshot the junction which takes us to the 'new' line.

Confused, we went back on ourselves and realised that, in our efforts to avoid the appalling floating polyprop line which had taken off into the roof of the rift, we had swum past the clothes pegs and other general tatt. Even more surprising was that the floating line had hidden itself so far up into the roof, it was quite an effort to pull it down and put it back into the downwards rift which was looking empty. We made several attempts to fix it but ultimately, polyprop sucks and it will be coming out next time. We continued on the correct path, having wasted a few minutes. We very soon came across the 'new junction' and set off along Oz and Joe's line. I surveyed the last leg whilst Rich untied the line reel that had sat quiet for a year and once I had underlined the numbers in my wetnotes, Rich turned to me, reel at the ready and smiled an 'Ok?' I nodded and we set off along beautiful rift passage, horizontal and about 30m depth, dipping to 34m temporarily.

The rock was sharp, pale, sculptured and pretty. the passage was 10m high and 2m wide at the widest part. Rich made a lovely, tight line with good tie offs and I bimbled along behind, counting knots, recording the depth and the compass bearing. It was heading north and all I could think of was that poor geologist who was desperate for the cave to go in the opposite direction! The thing is, it might yet as it has already done one weird corkscrew and we emptied the reel as the rift started to close down - a sign maybe that we should be looking elsewhere now for the continuation. The Coudoulire is known to connect from dye tracing and that cave corkscrews considerably before settling on a path - and it goes deep. It currently lies at 1650m long and 100m depth. We looked at the floor nervously waiting for it to engulf us into the depths - but it never did. It just started to pinch up and Rich was getting itchy feet in large 12 and 15 litre bottles.

The reel emptied at just the right time. We dived back in appalling visibility which was very patchy and were relieved to get back to our deco bottles at 6m with no deco incurred. We had spent 36 minutes in the sump with an average depth of about 20m. We returned to expectant sherpas and delivered the empty reel and Rich was pre-occupied with the fact that he found his long lost Halcyon knife!! We were helped out of the water and out of our cylinders by Jarv and Tim. I was absolutely freezing - I had somehow managed to be the first in the sump and the last out - so I got an extra 10 minutes of coldness either end! We climbed out and I was generously given something sugary by the resident diabetic. He'll live! (probably). We had a shivery dive out. I went ahead and Rich followed, exiting the sump at a rate of knots even I found alarming! Clearly he wanted out! We changed into warm fleecy caving undersuits - the posh element changed into fourth element underclothes! We started packing up and getting gear ready for hauling and we were out of the cave, with our gear back at the car, by 6pm!! Unbelievable! Many thanks to the gang for their help - Elaine, Duncan and Gerick turned up later in the evening to help on the surface as well.

The French cavers had asked us to take water samples from the second sump to confirm that the water was the same as other sites in the area. This job was handed to Jarvist and Tim and we carefully carried the water bottle out of the cave. Once on the surface, the French began doing their science bit and confirmed that the water was the same as that in the nearby source and also others in the area, helping prove a connection between systems including the Garrel. We retired to the campsite to shower and get tarted up for an evening meal in St Jean de Buges - a timely place - but devoid of champagne.

St Kilda : Island on the Edge of the World

If you enjoy my article Id really appreciate a like on my FB page In a far corner of the United Kingdom, forty miles from the Western Isles, lies a speck of land that has caught the imagination of many. St Kilda supported a modest population, adapted to survive in such harsh and isolated conditions, for two millennia, but with the influx of modern world influence the population began to dwindle as religion, tourism, emigration and disease eventually eroded the sustainability of this fragile society.

The 29th of August 1930 saw the final evacuation of its last inhabitants. Now the archipelago is recognised as both a natural and cultural UNESCO World Heritage Site, its significance on a par with sites like Machu Picchu in Peru. Trying to get from London to St Kilda, or just the Outer Hebrides on a budget will mean you're not in for the most comfortable of journeys. Its going to be long and tiresome, but I say to myself; it will certainly be worth it! If money is less of an object, you can fly to a number of small airports on the Western Isles with FlyBe, changing at Glasgow, or even get the Caledonian sleeper train from London Euston Station to Fort William (or Glasgow) where you continue for the last few hours by coach. For me, it was on the 9pm overnight Mega Bus (tickets as little as 5) from London Victoria which gets me to Glasgow for 5am, and then a short wait for a connecting 7am Scottish CityLink couch to Uig (about 46 return) and finally a ferry to the village of Tarbert on Harris.

Opting for the coaches is cheap, but long and boring, it's not really until after I pass Glasgow that the amazing Scottish highland scenery begins to tantalise my mind. The mountains, valleys and lochs make for a lovely scenic ride, made slightly harder to appreciate after a sleepless night on the motorways of England. Its 2pm when I finally escape the confines of my coach seat at Uig, and here the ferry to Tarbert awaits (5.70 single). Excited, my short adventure begins as I board the MV Hebrides, a roll-on roll-off ferry, similar though smaller than those you would cross the English channel in, but way more exciting simply due to where it's heading, one of the UK's most remote locations. As the sun shines, I go on deck to celebrate making it this far with a can of Tennents Lager as I watch the Isle of Skye disappear below the horizon. After an hour and forty minutes we arrive in Tarbert, Harris which will serve as my base of my stay. Tarbert is a small and charming settlement, which acts as the capital and administrative area for Harris.

You wont find too much here; a few shops and couple of hotel bars. Its located on a narrow strip (an istalus) of land with the sea on both sides, and steep hills which contain its spread. As I walk off the ferry, I recognise the tourist office at the end of the street. I head there in the hope of obtaining a basic bus timetable. Its closed, so my second port of call is the Hebrides Hotel on the same road. I'm not checking in as I suspect this place may be a bit out of my budget, but the hotel bar looks inviting - I'm a great believer in a short break at the nearest pub presenting a solution to whatever situation you find yourself in. I walk in and ask if they know when the bus leaves for Leverbrough (as that is where the boat to St Kilda will leave in the early morning), and I figured its best to wake up close by to where Id be leaving. Sorry, we've no buses on a Sunday, I'm told by the young bartender. Ah, taxis? I ask. I sense a little hesitation when the bartender smiles and tells me shell check with her manager. It turns out Sunday may not have been the best day for my arrival. She disappears, so I figure Ill treat myself to a pint and a late lunch or perhaps an early dinner of fish and chips.

Just as I've placed my order the supervisor appears and informs me that they've the next best thing to an official taxi; she explains that only one real taxi firm operates on the island and they're based an hour away in Stornoway, which incurs a substantial additional call out cost. They offer me the next best thing, and call a local man who sometimes offers to undertake taxi duties. A pleasant half an hours ride starts to give me a feel for these islands. First, I begin to realise that they're massive: looking at a map just doesn't do this place justice, and I soon realise my backup plan of walking would have been foolish. Instead, I enjoy the ride as it takes me past wide deserted beaches, moors, highlands and lochs, occasionally passing a lone building or playing chicken with stubborn sheep on the narrow roads. 30 lighter after my ride, I arrive at Leverbrough to be told there's nothing open today, not that there is much there anyway. I'm told I wont find anything to kill time until the morning, but why kill time when it looks like time has stood still? Leverbrough is a lovely spread out village, with no person in sight, just a light breeze in the late afternoon and the evening sun reflecting off the coastline.

My pre-arranged bunkhouse is hard to miss; a big red building with a large BUNKHOUSE sign on its side will be my home for the night. I'm eager to dump my bags and set off for a little wander to the small harbour where I will be setting off for St Kilda the next day. A few boats are moored in the nearby waters but the highlights are two stunning vessels moored close to each other, the bright red hulls of the Orca III and the Hirta are the unmistakable hallmark of Kilda Cruises, who Ill be sailing with. As the sun begins to set on this sleepy place I find myself on the porch of the Am Bothen Bunkhouse. Its a pleasant summers evening but as the sun continues to disappear it also becomes noticeably cooler and time to put on a jumper. The rest of the evening is spent sipping on a couple of bottles of beer I picked up in the Hebrides Hotel Bar before turning in for my early morning.

Now I'm certainly not a morning person but today, waking at 5.30am, showering and making my coffee wasn't at all a burden I'm far too excited by the anticipation of my upcoming voyage to the edge of the world. Following a brisk walk towards the nearby harbour, where a few people were gathering, I'm approached by a man who seems to know who I am, he introduces himself as Angus; he runs Kilda cruises and captains the Orca III. A brief handshake and he explains the sea swell on St Kilda is much too high and that it wont be possible to land today. An overwhelming sense of disappointment fills me, and I'm not really sure how to respond to Angus. After all, I've travelled up from London all this way, only to be told I wont be sailing anywhere. Of course, at the time of booking Kilda Cruises strongly advised I allocate an extra day to my itinerary in case of such circumstances, but still I cant help but feel disappointed. Angus tells me that we can try again tomorrow, though he didn't sound too confident that tomorrows conditions would be any better.

Perhaps tomorrow was down to luck, or maybe years of experience have taught him to limit expectations. Angus kindly offers me a lift to Tarbert, where Ill find my way to another bunkhouse, Rock View, which is pretty much a self-service affair. Punch in a code to let yourself in and drop the money in a small box left downstairs, it reminds me of my old student digs so I feel right at home. I have the place to myself but I wont spend much time here as I want to explore. I've a few choices on how to proactively spend my day. Not too far is the Clisham, a 799 meter high mountain whose peak marks the Western Isles highest point, or perhaps I could rent a bicycle and head to the beaches of Harris world renowned as some of the most stunning beaches on earth. Id driven past Luskentyre Beach and from my ride it looked like a scene from a Caribbean holiday brochure, miles of flat white sands and turquoise waters hugged by green Scottish hills and moorland. Its a tough choice but instead I opt to make this tomorrows back up plan. For today I decide Ill visit the Callanish Standing Stones and Stornoway, the capital of the Western Isles. First its a visit to the Tourist Office to formulate a travel plan.

They explain to me the nature of the islands bus system. Essentially, coaches service the islands public transport needs; they run few and far between but provide the vital link connecting the settlements for many of the islanders. I'm told Ill need to change coaches in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. Furthermore, timetables aren't really printed to keep cost down, and if I miss a connection then it could be a very long wait or a long walk back to civilisation. I'm told to let the driver know my plans and he can drop me off and tell me where to head onwards, so I do just that. The fifty-seater coach races though the moorlands on narrow hilly roads like a giant rally car: these coach drivers clearly know the terrain and Im sure they must enjoy ragging these massive vehicles around the empty roads. Miles and miles of barren, uninhabited landscape as far as the eye can see truly make an impression of unforgiving terrain should one be caught out, and its not long before a new found respect for this place is thrust upon me. Yes, the emptiness is strongly beautiful but it could well be deadly.

The remoteness is occasionally broken up with scattered settlements and every so often with locals running from their front road to coach our bus, the reality seems to be local transport service offer close to a door-to-door service and will pick up and drop you anywhere along the route. After about forty minutes, I disembark to find another coach already waiting for me, and then its only another twenty minutes ride before I arrive at my first stop, the remarkable Callanish Standing Stones. I make my way up the path, conscious of the fact that the next bus leaves in forty minutes or its a two hour wait. While there's no rush, I'm just not convinced that I could appreciate the forthcoming landmarks for that long. The standing stones come into sight, massive grey rocks vertically planted in the green grass. Dated to about 5000 years ago, they represent an ancient burial ground. Like Stonehenge, these monoliths are impressive, but unlike Stonehenge you can walk straight up with no restrictions. Impressed with my first replacement trip, Ive almost forgotten my cancelled sailing as a coach takes me to the administrative capital of the Outer Hebrides, Stornoway.

I arrive here and begin to explore on foot. Though the population is only around 9000, this is a bustling metropolis compared to the rest of the settlements I've seen so far. I quickly notice the abundance of pubs - perhaps an attempt to make up to the scarcity of them elsewhere! I note to myself it would be rude not to visit at least one before I leave town, but first I wander the streets and make my way to the neo-gothic Lews castle. Unfortunately, I cant get as close as Id like due to renovation work. Most of Stornoway can be easily covered on foot, its a modest town with a few recognisable high-street chain stores. Perhaps its the grey skies and the rain which contributes to my subdued mood here. For now its time to wait for the bus home - well, after a pint of course! Its amazing how quickly the day slips away, and before I know it I'm back on an almost-full bus to Tarbert. The driver speeds across the barren landscapes of the Western Isles as I chat to a native Glaswegian who settled here over eight years ago.

Back in Tarbert the suns shining and I begin to formulate a backup plan for the next day, should my voyage to St Kilda be cancelled again. Over dinner in the Harris Inn I think about tomorrows back up plan of climbing the Clisham, and then a ride to the beach, perhaps even braving a dip in the North Atlantic. At this point Im excited by how tomorrow may turn out, and have nearly put St Kilda out of my mind when my mobile phone suddenly vibrates on the wooden table. Its Angus, letting me know the sea conditions for the morning. Its a yes: we are due to sail first thing! For a moment I feel a pang of disappointment as my planned alternative day wont materialise, but this quickly passes. Angus kindly offers to pick me up from Tarbert as Im on route back to Leverbrough, its much appreciated, even if pick up is at 6am. The next morning Im in Anguss 4x4 with his young son Alex and crew mate Murdur as we head back to the harbour at Leverbrough. I see another Kilda Cruises crew preparing the sister vessel, the Hitra. Im there before the rest of the passengers and while Angus, Alex and Murdur refuel and prepare the Orca III for sail I wonder what kind of people visit St Kilda, and why. Finally Im called on board the newer of the two, the Orca III. She carries twelve passengers, is very modern and with the open bridge I'm fascinated by the vast array of monitor screens, radar, GPS and other instrumentation positioned upfront.

After an initial safety briefing, Angus takes his place on the captains seat, the engines roar into life, and we head for the open ocean. Were allowed outside on the rear deck, providing we have our life jackets on. I'm joined on deck by a few middle-aged couples as well as a retired couple, and a family of bird enthusiasts. I'm the only solo traveller. It seems there's no stereotype visitor to St Kilda, and the one thing we all have in common is that for whatever reason, this fascinating place has caught our imagination. Sailors often see a variety of wildlife from whales to puffins, but for this voyage were out of luck and all that's abundant over the long two hour and forty minute trip are the dark clouds forming overhead; it seems the heavens could open up at any moment. I half expect a shout of land ahoy when the island of Hitra appears on the horizon, but no such cry is made. We continue our approach into Village Bay, anchors drop and we prepare to disembark on to a small jetty via a small motor dinghy. I'm given a hand up, and were soon greeted by the islands warden. He explains that hes one of three employees of the Scottish National Trust, his colleagues comprise an archaeologist and an ornithologist, in his words a bird woman. He describes himself as a general dogsbody, filling multiple roles from maintenance to clerk of the gift shop, which hell later open for us. He continues to explain that there are a number of Ministry of Defence contractors on the island who are best not disturbed.

They share the island with a number of researchers and students who are here for the summer to study the unique species of found here on Soay and Boreray. The weathers not looking good and the surrounding peaks are engulfed in cloud. The warden points in various directions suggesting where to go and where to stay away from. He emphasises the dangers of getting lost or worse, falling off a cliff. Wished a good day, we set off to finally explore the island. On first impressions I think to myself, this was not in the brochure; blocks of green portacabins used by the MOD as barracks and offices, and a large ugly grey building disturbs the peace with what I assume to be the generator for the complex. It takes a few minutes to navigate past these modern monstrosities before a visitor can finally make eye contact with the old village buildings and wow, what a sight! Instantly I forget about the modern structures behind me as I get lost in the atmosphere. A lone street with the ruined houses along one side that once stood inhabited.

The first five houses have been restored and let to the researchers as accommodation. House number three has been converted into a small, elegant museum with much information, illustrations and artefacts. Many of my fellow day trippers have their packed lunches here, however I'm much too excited to be in such an astonishing place to sit inside, so after absorbing as much information as I can, I carry on along the village street. To my left is the bay, to my right is the single row of houses along the old village street, the backdrop to which are the steep hills, disappearing into the mists. Scattered all along landscape are cleits, small stone structures roofed with turf used for drying foodstuffs and keeping goods cool and dry. I stroll along slowly along my path, entering these now roofless buildings to truly get a feel for how the islanders lived. Fittingly each ruined building has a piece of slate, no larger than a roof tile, on the ground resting against the wall with the name, age, and year of the last occupant. Names like Ewan Gilles and Rachel McDonald really bring to life that this isn't just a ruin, but it was a home for someone, a home they were forced to leave. Leaving the village behind I now follow a concrete track laid by the MOD uphill. It leads to a radar station positioned on one of the islands high points.

I'm eager to reach a high point, or ideally the highest point on the island from where I'm sure the views must be amazing. I'd be able to see the village from high above and the sea stacks in the ocean miles way which make up this archipelago. Wishful thinking with the current weather conditions, Id be lucky to see a metre in front me at a respectable altitude, but I'm not deterred. The walk is steep, and as I carry on upward I can see the village bay below, the grey buildings, the lush green grass with the slight turquoise ocean, fading into deep blue further along the horizon, even on such an abysmal day. A few more vertical metres and I'm completely swallowed up in the low cloud, visibility is down to a few metres, and the village below me has now completed disappeared. Its raining, windy and not at all pleasant as I persevere onward for another half-an-hour when suddenly, out of the white, grey buildings with domes and masts begin to emerge. Its the unmanned radio stations on top of Hitra. They give this place a ghostly feel, and I half expect zombies to come at me.

Though I cant see it, I certainly feel that this is a very exposed area as the winds blast my body and sideways rain drops sting my face. Here the road ends, and under normal circumstances, if one were to continue to reach the islands highest peak, they'd have to walk off-track along some of the highest cliffs in the UK. With such bad visibility any attempt would be extremely unwise, so I reluctantly turn back down the road. With every downward step the conditions seem to improve: less rain, less wind and thirty minutes later the village comes back into sight. I pass a flock of unique sheep, they're much darker, and with larger horns then what Id expect, but that's as far as my analysis goes. Back at the village bay, its time for the mandatory photo opportunities as I carry on exploring every nook and cranny of the village - I even make it down to the sandy beach.

This place seems to exert such presence that I think I could never tire of it: a dramatic landscape, amazing natural beauty and fascinating history as well as an important wildlife habitat. I begin to sense a break in the weather. Typical! I shout at myself. Hesitantly, I think, is now the time to hike up to the viewpoint again? I look past the buildings to the area called The Gap. Its not as high I was previously but connects to high points and the views should be just as impressive from there should the clouds dissipate. From where I'm standing, the tip of The Gap becomes visible and that's my sign to make a brisk hike for it. I race up the steep hill past the many clients dotted around and within fifteen minutes I'm making my final approach. I see the edge of The Gap, just about clear of any cloud cover but within seconds of me reaching my view point the cloud again foils my plans as it swiftly blows in. My pace slows as disappointment seeps in, and then, just as I'm about to plant my right foot on the ground, I suddenly, instinctively jump backward, and simultaneously feel like my heart jumped not just one, but a few hundred beats.

Catching my breath, I slowly crawl to where I was about to plant my foot, and I'm gazing out over sheer cliff. I just about make out the ocean below before more cloud works its way in. This is exactly what the warden warned us about. Realising how close I've come to simply disappearing off the most remote outpost of the United Kingdom, I sit down for some lunch and reflect on my day, and hope it may still clear up before I head back down. Unfortunately, it doesn't. Back in the village I visit the small shop and buy a postcard and the warden kindly promises to send it on my behalf. Then I wander into the nearby chapel where I'm told services are still sometimes held, and on to a nearby artillery gun, mounted in World War Two after a German U-boat attack.

My fellow visitors have gathered at the jetty awaiting pickup. The day has flown by and I'm not at all disappointed anymore about the weather, I tell myself that its been more authentic this way, the islanders would have probably had more of this weather than the sunshine I had hoped for. Once on-board the Orca III were all greeted with a much welcomed cup of tea and some homemade banana cake. Its not long before Angus brings his engines roaring back to life. Our return trip will take us past some of the steepest cliffs and sea stacks in the UK, and well visit the other islands of the archipelago where some of the most important bird breeding colonies on the planet are situated. In particular, the gannet population here is of major significance. On deck, an elderly gentleman tells me Now imagine how the islanders felt when they left their homes for the last time, a sobering thought which stuck with me for much of the return voyage.

The Orca III takes us further seaward for close of views of Stac Lee, Stac An Armin and the island of Boreray. Angus and Murdur explain to us how the islanders used to sail here to these unforgiving cliffs to collect bird eggs and how they'd stay here for weeks at a time. They point out features in the rock, shelters built for and by these brave men for the gatherings. They share their knowledge with great enthusiasm, and its obvious to me that these two love what they do. The boat is piloted close to these cliffs to give us a true sense of how enormous these monoliths are. High above us are thousands of birds, flying, diving and nesting. The dark cliffs are lined with white guano, the noise from these sea birds is loud, and the smell is strong. I was later told that they eat thousands of tons of fish a week, which in turn means they produce thousands of tons of guano a week, with no one to clear it up! Angus pilots the Orca III around the tall stacks: for perspective, these sheer cliff faces are substantially higher than the tower which houses Big Ben.

The tour comes to an end as we head into open waters once again for the trip back to the small harbour in Leverbrough. Its been a long day and opposite me a fellow passenger looks to be turning a bit green as the rocking of the boat puts me to sleep. The final moments of our time on board are marked with a complimentary whisky poured by Murdur, here the weather has lifted and the suns come out as I sip away. When we all say goodbye to each other at the pier, it feels like saying farewell to old friends. We've all shared this magnificent place and its clear that everyone enjoyed their day, however they spent it. I wait behind for a lift back to Tarbert but not before having a quick pint with the crew of the Orca III.

The conversation revolves around St Kilda, the boats, the sea, fishing and then back to St Kilda. I'm grateful for the chance to visit this amazing place and to share the experience with people who have a real passion for what they do.

 www.doinitonline.com

Pennine Way for Crisis UK

I completed this challenge for Crisis UK on 10th July 2013. The Pennine Way is 270 mile / 430 km from Edale in the Peak District to Kirk Yetholm in the Scottish borders. I realised after the last four walks that I need to keep my own costs down so I camped where possible and did the walk without support.

You can read more about the walk including the kit that I took athttp://rucksackrose.wordpress.com/distance-walks/the-pennine-way/ This was my fifth distance walk. I did Hadrian's wall (84 miles/135km) for the MS Society in June 2012 and the Dales Way (78 miles/126km) for the British Lung Foundation in August 2012.

This year I also completed the St. Cuthbert's Way (65 miles) and the Cumbria Way (78 miles) in preparation for the Pennine Way.

St Kilda: The Island On The Edge Of The World

In a far corner of a United Kingdom, 40 miles from the Western Isles, lays a speck of land that has caught the imagination of many. Its thought that for two millennia St Kilda supported a modest population, which adapted to survive in such harsh and isolating conditions. With the influx of modern world influence the population begun to dwindle as religion, tourism, emigration and disease eventually contributed to the un-sustainability of this fragile society. It was the 29th August 1930 which saw the final evacuation of its inhabitants.

Now the archipelago is recognised as both a natural and cultural UNSECO World Heritage Site, its significance on a par among such sites a Machu Picchu in Peru. Trying to get from London to St Kilda, or the even Outer Hebrides for that matter, on a budget will mean youre not in for the most comfortable journeys. Its going to be long, uncomfortable, tiresome, but I say to myself; I it will be certainly be worth it! However if moneys less of an object you can fly to a number of small airports on the Western Isles with FlyBe, changing at Glasgow, or even get the Caledonian sleeper train from London Euston Station to Fort William (or Glasgow) where you carry on last few hours by coach. For me, however, it was on the 9pm overnight Mega Bus where tickets start from 5 from London Victoria Coach station which gets me to Glasgow for 5am, wait for a couple of hours for a connecting 7am Scotish CityLink couch to Uig (about 46 rtn) , the Ferry terminal which will finally take me to village of Tarbert on Harris. Opting for the coaches is cheap, but long and boring, its not really until after you pass Glasgow where the amazing Scottish highland scenery begins to tantalise your mind.

The mountains, valleys and lochs make for a lovely scenic ride, though made slightly harder appreciate after a sleepless night on the motorways of England. Its 2pm when I'm finally escape the confines of my coach seat at Uig, here the Ferry awaits to take me to Tarbert (5.70 single). Excited, here my short adventure starts as I board the MC Hebraises, a small roll on roll of ferry, similar to what you'd expect to cross the English channel, but way more exciting simply due to where its heading, one of the UK's most remote locations. As the sun shines and I go on deck to celebrate for making it this far with a can of Tenants Lager as I watch the Isle of Skye disappear below the horizon. After a short 1 hour and 40 minutes we arrive in Tarbert, Harris which will serve as my base of my short stay. Tarbert is a small and charming settlement, which acts as the capital and administrative area for Harris, you wont find too much here; a few of shops and couple of hotel bars. Its located on a narrow strip (an istalus) of land with the sea to either side of it and steep hills contain its spread.

Very scenic though and everything seems to be a few minutes walk away. As I walk off the ferry, instantly recognise the tourist office at the end of the street. I head there in the hope I can obtain some basic bus timetable information. Its closed so the second port of call, the Hebrides Hotel on the same road, not to check in as, as I suspect this place may be a bit out of my budget, however the hotel bar looks inviting and I'm a great believer in which ever situation you find your self in a short break to the closest pub will present a solution. I walk in and ask if they can know when the Bus leaves for Leverbrough (as that is where the boat to St Kilda will leave in the early morning), and I figured its best to wake up close by to where Id be leaving. Sorry weve no buses on a Sunday, I'm told by the young bartender. Ah.. Taxis? I ask. I senses a wee bit of hesitation when the bartender smiles and tells me shell check with her manager. Turns out Sundays may not have been the best day for my arrival. She disappears so I figure Id treat myself to a pint and a late lunch or perhaps an early dinner of fish and chips. As I've placed my order the supervisor appears and informs me that they've the next best thing to an official taxi She explains that one real taxi firm operates on the island and theyre based all the way in Stornoway, about an hour away, and hence the additional call out cost. So they offer to call me the next best thing a local man who sometimes offer s undertake taxi duties.

A pleasant 30 minutes ride starts to give me a feel for these islands. First, I quickly begin to realise a that theyre massive, looking at a map just doesnt do this place justice, I soon realise my backup plan of walking would have been foolish, instead I enjoy the ride as it takes me past wide deserted beaches, moors, highlands and lochs, occasionally passing a lone building or playing chicken with stubborn sheep on the narrow roads. 30 lighter after my ride I arrive at Leverbrough, Im told theres nothing open today, not that there is much there anyway. Im told I wont find anything to kill the time till the morning here, but why kill time here when it looks like time has stood still? Leverbrough is a lovely spread out village, with no person in sight, just a light breeze in the late afternoon and the evening sun reflecting off the coastline. My pre-arranged bunkhouse is hard to miss, a large red building with the large BUNKHOUSE sign on its side will be my home for the night.

I'm eager to dump my bags and set of for a little wander to the small harbour where I will be setting of the St Kilda the next day. A few boats more in the nearby waters but the highlight are to stunning vessels moored close to each other, the bright red hulls of the Orca III and the Hirta are the unmistakable hallmark of Kilda Cruises, who Ill be sailing with. As the sun begins to set on this sleepy place I find myself on the porch of the Am Bothen Bankhouse. Its a pleasant summers eve but has the sun continues to disappear it also becomes noticeably cooler and time to put on a jumper. The rest of the evening is spent sipping on a couple of bottles of beer Ive managed to pick up in the Hebraise Hotel Bar before turning in for my early morning. Now Im certainly not a morning person but today waking up at around 5.30am, showering and making my coffee wasnt at all a burden Im far too excited and anticipate my upcoming voyage to the edge of the world. A brisk walk towards the nearby harbour where a few people where gathering.

I'm approached by a man who seems to know who I am, he introduces himself as Angus; he runs Kilda cruises and captains the Orca III. A brief handshake and he explains the sea swell on St Kilda is much too high today and that we wont be possible to land today. An overwhelming sense of disappointment fills my gut, not really sure how to respond to Angus after all, Ive travelled up from London all this way only to be told I wont be sailing anywhere today. Of course, on the time of booking Kilda Cruises strongly advise I allocate an extra day into my itinerary in case of such circumstance, but still I cant help feel disappointed. Angus tells me that we can try again tomorrow though his voice didnt sound too reassuring that tomorrow will be any better condition. Perhaps tomorrow was down to luck or maybe years of experience have taught him to limit expectations. Angus kindly offers me a lift to Tarbert, where Ill find my way to another bunkhouse, Rock View, which is pretty much a self-service affair. Punch in a code to let yourself in and drop the money in a small box left downstairs, it reminds my old student digs so I feel right at home. Ive the place to myself but I wont spend much time here as Ive the day to explore. Ive a few choices on how to proactively spend my day. Not to far is the Clisham. A 799 meter high mountain whose peak marks the Western Isles highest point, or perhaps I could rent a bicycle and head to the beaches of Harris world renowned as some of the most stunning beaches on earth. Id driven past Luskentyre Beach beach and from my ride it looked like a scene out of the Caribbean holiday brochure, miles of flat white sands and turquoise waters hugged by green Scottish hills and moorland. Its a tough choice but instead I opt to make this tomorrows back up plan for today I decide Ill visit the Callanish Standings Stones and Stornoway, the capital of these Western Isles. First its a visit to the Tourist Office to formulate a travel plan. They explain to me the nature of the islands bus system. Essentially coaches service the islands public transport needs, they run few and far between but provide the vital link for many of the islanders connecting much of the settlements. I'm told Ill need to change coaches in what I assume to be the middle of nowhere on to another coach. Furthermore timetables aren't really printed to keep cost down and if I miss a connection then it could be a very long wait or walk back to civilisation. I'm told to let the driver know my plans and he can drop me off and tell me were to head onwards, so I do just that. The 50 seater coach races though the moorlands on narrow hilly roads like giant rally cars, these coach drivers clearly know the terrain and I'm sure they must enjoy ragging these massive vehicles across the empty roads. Miles and miles of barren, uninhabited landscape as far as the eye can see truly make an impression of unforgiving terrain should one be caught out, its not long before a new found respect for this place is thrust upon me. Yes, the emptiness is strongly beautiful but it could well be deadly.

The remoteness is occasionally broken up with scattered settlements and every so often with locals running from their front road to coach our bus, the reality seems to be local transport service offer a close to a door to door service and will pick and drop you along the route. After about 40 minutes I'm let off the coach to find another coach already waiting for me, its only another 20 minutes or so before I arrive at my first stop, the remarkable Callanish Standing Stones. I make my way up the path, conscious of the fact that the next bus leaves in 40 minutes or its a two hour wait, and while there's no rush I'm just not convinced that I could appreciate the forthcoming landmarks for that long. The standing stones come in to sight, massive grey rocks vertically planted in the green grass. Dated to about 5000 years ago, they represent an ancient burial ground. Like Stonehenge these rocks are impressive, unlike Stonehenge you can go straight up to these monoliths with no restrictions. Pretty impressed with my first replacement trip, I've almost forgotten about my cancelled sailing only a few hours ago as a coach takes me to the administrative capital of the Outer Hebrides , Stornoway. I arrive here and figure Ill walk around for an explore. Though the population is around 9,000 this seems like a bustling metropolis compared to the rest of the settlements Ive seen so far. One thing I do quickly notice is the abundance of pubs perhaps an attempt to make up to the scarcity of them elsewhere, I note to myself it would be rude not to visit at least one before I leave town, but first I wander the streets and make my way to the neo-gothic Lewis castle. Unfortunately during my visit the castle renovation work presence stops a more close up visit. Most of Stornoway can be covered on foot in not much time at all, its a modest town with a few high-street chains. Perhaps its the grey skies and the rain which contributes to my subdued mood here. For now its time to wait for the bus home well, after a pint of course. Its amazing how quickly the day seems to have gone, before I know it I'm back on a bus to Tarbert chatting to a native Glaswegian who settled here over eight years ago. The bus back to Tarbert is almost full as it again races for an hour across the barren landscapes of the western isles. Back in Tarbert the suns shining and I begin to formulate a backup plan for the next day should my voyage to St Kilda be cancelled again. Over dinner in the Harris Inn I think about tomorrows back up plan of climbing the Clisham and then ride to the beach or perhaps braving a dip in the north Atlantic Ocean.

At this point I'm even pretty excited by how tomorrow may turn out, and I even put St Kilda out of my mind. Then suddenly my mobile phone vibrates on the wooden table. Its Angus, Id almost forgotten to expect his call to let me know what the sea conditions are looking like for the morning and if we are due to sail. Its a yes! Were good to go first thing in the morning. For a moment I feel a bit of disappointment as my planned alternative day wont materials but this quickly passes and my excitement again returns. Angus kindly offers to pick me up from Tarbert as Im on route back to Lavenbrough, its much appreciated, even if pick up is at 6am. The next morning Im back in Anguss 4x4 along with his young son Alex and crew mate Murdur as we head back to the harbour at Levenbrough. I see another Kilda Cruises crew preparing the sister vessel, the Hitra. Im there before the rest of the passengers and while Angus, Alex and Murder refuel and prepare the Orca III for sail I wonder what kind of people visit St Kilda, and why.

Finally I'm called on board newer of the two, the Orca III. She holds 12 passengers, is very modern and with the open bridge Im fascinated by the vast array of monitors screens, radar, GPS positioned upfront. After an initial safety briefing, Angus takes his place on the captains seat, the engines roar into life and we begin to leave the land behind us as we head to the open ocean. Were allowed to go outside on the rear deck, providing weve our life jackets on. Im joined on deck by few middle age couples as well as a retired couple, a family of bird entrusts. Im the only solo traveller. It seems theres no stereotype of visitor to St Kilda, but one thing weve all have in common is that for whatever reason this fascinating place has caught our imagination for one reason or another. Often sailors will see a variety of wildlife from whales to puffins, but for this voyage its like were out of luck and all thats abundant over the long to two hour and forty minute trip with dark clouds forming overhead; it looks like the heavens could open up any moment. I half expect a shout land ahoy when the Island of Hitra comes up from the horizon, but no such cry is made. We continue our approach into Village Bay, anchors drop and we prepare to disembark on a small motor dingy which takes us to a small jetty. Im given a hand up were soon greeted by the Islands warden, an employee of the Scottish National Trust. The warden explains, that hes one of three employees of the trust, hes colleagues comprise of an archaeologist and in his words a bird woman. As for himself, he is a general dogsbody, filling multiple roles from maintenance to gift shop clerk which hell open later for us. He continues to explain that there are a number of Ministry of Defence contractors on the Island who are best not disturbed. They share the Island with a number of researchers and students who are here for the summer to study the unique species of Soay and Boreray found here.

The weathers not looking good and the sounding peaks are engulfed in cloud cover, he points to various directions suggesting where to go and where to stay away from. He emphasises the dangers of getting lost or worse, falling off a cliff. Wished a good day, we set off to finally explore the island. On first impressions I think to myself, this was not in the brochure, green porter cabin/container sized blocks used by the MOD, a large load ugly grey building disturbs the piece with what I assume to be the power plant or generator for the complexes. It takes a few minutes to navigate past these modern monstrosities before a visitor can finally make eye contact with the old village buildings and WOW, what a sight. Instantly I forget about the modern MOD structures barracks and offices just behind me as I get lost in the atmosphere. A lone street with the ruins of the houses that once stood inhabited along one side, the first five houses have been restored and have let to the researches as accommodation. House number three has been converted into a small and elegant museum with much information, illustrations and artifacts.

Many of my fellow day trippers have their packed lunches here, however Im much too excited to be in such an astonishing place to sit inside so after exampling information I carry on along the village street. To my left is the bay, immediately to my right is the single row of houses along the old village street, the backdrop to which are the steep hills which disappear into the mists. Scattered all along landscape are cleits. A cleit is small stone structure roofed with turf used for drying and keeping goods cool and dry. I stroll along slowly along my path, entering these now roofless buildings to truly get a feel for how the islanders lived. Fittingly each ruined building has a piece of slate, no larger than a roof tile, on the ground resting against the wall with the name, age, and year of the last occupant, Names like Ewan Gilles and Rachel McDonald really bring to life that this isnt just a ruin, but it was a home for someone, a home they were forced to leave. Leaving the village behind I follow now follow a concrete track laid by the MOD uphill.

It leads to a radar station positioned on one of the islands high points. I'm really eager to reach a high-point or ideally even the highest point on the island where I'm sure the views must be amazing, id see the village from high above and Id be able to see the sounding sea stacks in the ocean miles way which make up the this archipelago. Though with the current weather conditions once at a respectable altitude Id be luckily to see a metre in front of my feet, wishful thinking at this point but I'm not deterred. The walk is steep, and as I carry on upward I can see the village bay below, the grey buildings, the lush green grass with the slight turquoise ocean, with its deep blue further along the horizon even on such an abysmal day. A few more vertical metres and I'm completely swallowed up in the low cloud, visibility is a few metres, and the village below me has now completed disappeared. Its raining, windy and not at all pleasant as I persevere on for another half an hour or so when suddenly out of the white soundings buildings become to emerge. Its the unmanned radio stations atop of Hitra. Grey buildings with their domes and masts give this place ghostly feel, I'm half expecting zombies to come at me. 

In the cave of the holy mountain - Athos, Greece part 2.

The new explorations of Athos Mt. Greece The second stage of the international project Study of the caves of Mount Athos (Mount Athos) - Greece. ended.

The same was initiated by the Bulgarian side and held under the patronage and with financial and material support of the European Federation of Speleology. The project team is composed Zhalov A. - Head, V. Gyorev , Zh.Vlaykov (Bulgaria), L. Makrostergios, J. Oykonomidis, T. Komaditis and M.Karidas (Greece), I. Agapov, S. Kaminski (Russia), A.Yamac (Turkey). The group works on an area from 1 st to 11 September. In this period were surveyed the areas of the monasteries , Diohar, Xenophon and heritages Kafrsokalivion, Little St.Anna, St. Anna and Nea Skiti. The distances between these holy places were mostly overcome with walking tours lasting from 1 to 4 hours, the movement by sea is carried by ferries. During the event were identified and mapped (according to preliminary data, information obtained on site and as a result of the search) about 45 underground sites. They can be divided into three main categories - caves associated with the lives of Saints, caves cells, usual and sea caves and artificial caves (catchments and reservoirs ). Along with it was collected many oral and photo information to other cave objects, which will be the subject of future studies. Preliminary data show that the team were surveyed 36 sites with a total length more than 350 meters. Other 9 objects was only visited and sketched among which is probably the longest cave in Athos for the moment. There were localized but not explored 2 more caves, one of which probably is so called The Big Cave of Athos. According the existing data (http://www.isihazm.ru/?id=1592) the cave over 150 m long. Its entrance is 50 m wide and around 80 m in high. The total number of the explored underground cavites under the project up to date is around 100.

The information for the results for the first stage and later for the expedition in 2012 is available at :https://sites.google.com/site/athosmistery/home

Getting Taken for a Ride

I'm always amazed when I run safety workshops and ask how many of the audience wear a seat belt when getting into a vehicle in their home country. Without fail everyone raises their hand and some even look at me as if I have just asked a rather stupid question. However, when I ask the same group how many of them wear a seat belt when they travel abroad, fewer than half raise a hand and when I ask how many refuse to travel in a vehicle that isn't equipped with seat belts I'm often on my own.

So why is it that when we travel we no longer feel the need to protect and preserve our own safety? This, despite the fact that in many cases the countries we are travelling to have lower standards of road safety and higher rates of road fatalities than our home countries. Perhaps its the perception that because we are abroad and we often associate this with a positive experience that we lower our guard. Or maybe we view poorer safety standards as being part of the romance of travel.

A when in Rome mindset perhaps. If you think this is just another safety expert having a moan, don't take my word for it, have a look at the stats from the World Health Organisation; Road traffic crashes kill 1.2 million people a year or an average of 3242 people every day. Road traffic crashes injure or disable between 20 million and 50 million people a year. Road traffic crashes account for 2.1% of all deaths globally. The majority of deaths from road traffic crashes (90%) occur in low and middle-income countries. Many of these are the same countries that, we as western tourists and business people, travel to. One of the issues we have is that despite greater awareness about vehicle safety the problem is actually getting worse rather than better.

According to the Burden of Global Disease the outlook is not good and the situation is only going to get worse. In 2004 road traffic crashes were responsible for 1,274,845 deaths globally, making it 9th in the list of causes of death. By 2030 it is predicted that it will rise to 5th and overtake diseases such as cancer, diabetes, hypertensive heart disease and HIV/AIDS. So, whats the solution? In many respects this lies with us. If, as travellers, we continue to accept poor quality ill-equipped vehicles driven by unqualified drivers, who exceed, or ignore speed limits then we are asking for trouble. If, on the other hand, we insist that tour operators and ground agents provide good quality, well maintained vehicles with fitted seat belts and qualified drivers who are adequately rested and not under the influence of drink or drugs, then we are taking steps to decrease the risk.

You wouldn't get into a cab or bus at home if it had bald tyres, no seat belts and the driver smelt of alcohol, so why do it when we are abroad? The problem is that it takes courage to turn away an unsuitable vehicle or driver, because we are concerned about insulting people or being disrespectful. These would seem like pretty feeble reasons if you find yourself in a foreign hospital or worse. On more than one occasion as an expedition leader I have refused vehicles or drivers on safety grounds, and yes, it has at times made me very unpopular. However, I would rather deal with unpopularity than the aftermath of a vehicle crash. As a former police officer I have seen the results of vehicle crashes and trust me, its not a good look. The more people who take a stand and refuse to put their lives in danger by using poor quality drivers and vehicles the sooner the message will start to filter through. Especially when it starts to affect peoples livelihoods. I have seen this in other aspects of expedition safety, where rogue operators go out of business once they are unable to meet the safety requirements and expectations of the paying customer. Its also about education and many people in developing countries simply haven't had the benefit of the training in road safety that we take for granted.

Be under no illusion, seat belts save lives. Fact! However, it some countries this seems to be systematically ignored. A study in Kenya showed that 99% of those injured in vehicle crashes were not wearing seat belts, despite it being law for drivers and front seat passengers to do so. Its not just a case of those in the front seats wearing seat belts either. When travelling in buses it only takes one person not wearing a seat belt to become a human missile. Consider this. A person travelling in a car moving at 30 miles per hour is also travelling at the same speed. If the vehicle suddenly stops (as happens in a crash) the person will still be moving inside the car at the same speed and will continue to do so until something (the steering wheel, dashboard, windshield......... another passenger) stops them. They would hit these objects in the same manner as he/she would hit the pavement falling from a 3-storey building. Being hit by a fellow passenger who weighs say 170 pounds and travelling inside a vehicle going at 60 miles per hour at the time of impact is not ever going to have a positive outcome.

Therefore, everyone travelling in multi-person vehicles has a responsibility to themselves and their fellow passengers to wear a seat belt, but its only through awareness that this message is going to get through. I have worked for a number of organisations who train their drivers not to turn the ignition key until everyone is wearing a seat belt. It is a very simple technique and it doesn't take long for the message to sink in. Its not just cars and buses that we need to be thinking about. Many travellers think nothing of renting a motorcycle or moped when abroad. Yet these machines are responsible for a disproportionate number of tourist deaths every year. According to the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office, 38 people a day die in motorcycle crashes in Thailand alone. That's nearly 14,000 people a year using only one mode of transport in just one country.

There are times in life where we don't have choices, but when it comes to transport and travel we often do and these choices could quite literally make the difference between life and death. Yes, tour operators and employers have a moral responsibility for our safety, but they are often governed by the bottom line. Ultimately, it is up to us as individuals to ensure they comply to the highest levels of safety and if they don't shouldn't travel with them. At the very least you owe it to yourself to speak up and demand safe transportation.

www.lloydfiggins.com

San Agustin 2013: Sistema Huautla established as the deepest cave in the Western Hemisphere

Sistema Huautla established as the deepest cave in the Western Hemisphere after a 7 week long caving and diving expedition featuringmore than 40 cave explorers.

Short summary of the expedition: Caving began on Tuesday 26th February. Thanks to a strong team within one week the cave was rigged to sump 1, camp 3 established and Jason Mallinson had relined sump 1 and 2. After another week the rest of the diving, exploration, beyond sump supplies and the four dry tubes were ready at the sump so that a team of 5 divers could spend one week exploring. Jason went through and set up camp 6 on Monday 11th March. The following day the rest of the divers made their way through sump 1 and 2. In total 6 dry tubes worth of gear was dived through with each of the three rebreather divers making two dives. A total of 6 dives were made in sump 9 between Jason Mallinson and Chris Jewell. On the first dive Jason reached -30m in poor visibility. On the next dive Chris reached -48m before ascending to surface in a static pool after 250m. A muddy ascending tube was followed for around 30m.

On the third dive Jason returned to this section with some rope but all passages closed down. Next Chris and Jason dived together with each diver on opposite sides of the passage in an attempt to find the main underwater continuation. Jason found a tunnel leading off the left hand wall which both divers followed down to -60m before surveying out. The final dive was made by Jason who followed this tunnel down to -81m which was the limit of the trimix being used. The final dive reached a point 440m into sump 9. Meanwhile the rest of the team (Mirek Kopertowski, Jon Lillestolen and Rich Hudson) were busy looking for dry passages. The Rio Iglesia waterfall was found to choke after a short distance and short sections of cave were surveyed in Perseverance hall and shortly before the low airspace swim. However long extensions were discovered leading from the back of the sump 9 chamber. These extensions followed the trend of Adams Avenue and in places dropped back down into known cave. In total 1,774m of dry passages were surveyed but no bypass to sump 9 discovered.

One mystery does remain however, when on the last day an undescended pitch was reached. Appearances suggested this would drop into known cave and the team was short of time and rigging gear so it was left. However when we plotted the survey data this pitch was going into new territory. Whilst the diving team was beyond the sumps they were in touch with the rest of the cavers at camp 3 by Nicola radio and teams took it in turns to stay at camp 3 and monitor the radio twice a day. During this period the route up to Anthrodite hall was. On Monday 18th March the diving team returned to camp 3 and a day was spent hauling kit from the sump before most people headed to the surface for some rest. During the following week (week 4) most of the diving kit was carried out of the cave and at the same time photos and videos taken.

Week 5 saw the arrival of our de-rig team and whilst they were getting ready to camp the rest of the diving kit came out. One final camping trip saw the cave de-rigged to the 620 depot. After that several long day trips during week 6 de-rigged the cave completely. In total we estimate that something like 30bags of diving/exploration kit (average weight of 16kg per bag) were carried in and out of the cave.

Thanks to a strong support team of more than 30 cavers from the UK, Canada, US and Mexico all this was accomplished quickly and efficiently. Thanks to our sponsors for making this happen and thanks to the local people who have made us feel very welcome.

More info - www.facebook.com/CaveDive andwww.cdg-exped.org

Sunrise on Mount Sinai

Sunrise on Mount Sinai Nestled within the southern part of the Sinai Peninsular, Mount Sinai offers an exhilarating climb which rewards you at the summit with some truly amazing views of this mountainous desert region of Egypt. Moses Mountain, as its called in Arabic, stands at 2285 metres and is said to be the place where God passed to Moses The Ten Commandments.

Mt Sinai is seldom the primary reason why one might fly to Egypt, but if you find yourself travelling around the Red Sea, it makes a great day, or more appropriately night side trip. Whilst the climb can be done at any part of the day, the majority of people decide to make the ascent at night in time to watch the sunrise from the summit. Most visitors arrive by organized tours, these are frequent, cheap and by far the simplest way of reaching the start point. Virtually all hotels and camps will be able to organize this. The foot of Mt Sinai can be reached in two hours from Dahab, an additional hour is required if travelling from Sharm El Shiekh. We prefer Dahab's laid back charm to Sharm so thats' where we set out from.The usual course of action will start with a pick up around 11pm, when youll be whisked away through the night desert in what ever mode of motorized transportation your host has acquired for the 2 hour journey.

Arrival time at the foot of the mountain should normally be 1am. The base of the mountain is a hub of activity with traders, shop-keeps and camels handlers all biding for your attention. Here visitors are introduced to their Bedouin guide. Hell explain the biblical significance of the mountain and go over some safety tips. This will also be your last chance to use a toilet for a few hours. Your guide will briskly take lead as you start to climb the mountain, ascending in the dark is truly a surreal experience. With the absence of any electricity and light pollution, the stars truly come to life, meteorites skim the atmosphere, constellations become defined, and the Milky Way twinkles brightly. The sheer beauty of the night sky is best enjoyed while resting, as its best to keep your eyes and touch on your feet while you climb the rocky path to the summit.

When you're not admiring the night sky, you'll be able to see enormous dark shadows which will start to resemble the neighbouring mountains and slow moving beams of flash lights from the hikers below. The gradient of the track frequently changes, there'll be parts where it climbs steadily and others where it zig-zags past steep walls. The route is littered with make shift shacks which sell refreshments and snacks. At higher altitudes close to the summit, these shacks rent out blankets and mattresses as it can get very cold before sunrise. The last such shack or tea house stands just before the final push to the summit begins. This is also where the camel tours dismount. Oh yes if you're not one for putting in the hard work, you can arrange for a camel or donkey to take you most of the way, but be warned riding a camel for a few hours should not be taken lightly. Here you must take the final 750 steep steps up to the summit. The entire climb takes about three hours, here the wind blows fresh and the temperature can truly get crisp so if you haven't brought some extra layers to keep you warm, its well worth renting a blanket. At the summit you'll find a few brave souls who have slept there in anticipation of the morning sun. Most parties arrive well over an hour before sunrise, this maximises your chances of find that perfect spot where you can await sunrise. The summit is home to a small Greek Orthodox Chapel (closed to the public) and a small Mosque still used by locals. The nature of this sacred place means that it attracts members of the Jewish, Christian and Islamic faiths and one can quite often see people reciting ancient texts, praying and singing hymns as the sunrise. Finally, the bell of the chapel breaks the sound of the wind. This signals the official time of sunrise. One day there may be applause, the next a chorus of hymns. How the crowd at the summit react to the start of the day is often as unpredictable as how a day will unfold. As the sun rises into the clear sky, you start to see the shadows fade away as the surrounding peaks start to turn different shades of red and orange. Eventually, its time to make the return journey. Walking back down the 750 steps is necessary, back to the last shack and return your blanket if youve rented one. Now you have to find possible routes back down to normality.

You can now take the same route as you came up and take in the view this time in daylight, or a greatly steeper route aptly named the Steps of Penitence. As the sun rises, so will the heat so if youd rather descend at a faster pace (and many do) aim for the luxury of a shade; the 3750 steps may be more appropriate. The definition of steps is a quite loose, almost as loose as the actual rocks that youll be traversing down, but it is the shorter and more direct route which eventually take you to the Saint Catharines Monastery at the Base of the mountain. Famed as the oldest working monastery in the world and dating back to the 6th century (at this particular location). The grounds are open to the public to use the facilities and purchase refreshments. The actual monastery building opens its doors at 9am, meaning for those wanting to take a look inside, you'll have an hour or so wait, depending on how long its taken you to arrive from the summit.

Groups are allowed to enter every few minutes after listening to a priest explain that taking pictures, talking and making any noise is strictly prohibited. Frankly, unless you have a particular interest in the field, missing a trip through the monastery is no great loss. However, most organised trips factor the monastery in as part of the trip. If you're on such a tour, if you descend quickly from the mountain, you'll have to wait for the monastery to open, be spoken to like a child, be rushed through and then find your transport back at around 10am arriving back in Dahab two hours later. The cost of this entire excursion, including transport, the guide, entrance to the mountain (which by extension to the nature reserve) and entrance to the monastery can be obtained for 120 EL (12). If you're not interested in entering Saint Catherines Monastery you can get this reduced, but be sure that the pick up arrives at a more appropriate time. This is a very fine yet demanding fete, partly the physical effort needed and partly concentration needed in the night part of the climb. When you get back to the shores of the red sea after a sleepless night, you'll have earned a relaxing holiday that most tourists come here for.

Prepare It should go without saying that good walking footwear is essential. Ideally carry a backpack with layers of clothing. It will get very cold at night particularly when waiting for the sun to rise at the summit. However, upon returning, the temperatures increase dramatically. Take a bottle of water and bring your wallet as you can replenish your supplies in the many shacks up the mountain.

Finally, and surprising often neglected by many visitors, if climbing by night, BRING A TORCH. Need to Know There's no need to follow the stereotypical itinerary outlined in the article. If you'd rather have the summit to yourself, you can climb up during daytime and watch a sunset instead and descend at night. Or if you can take the daytime heat, climb and descend in a day. Its worth emphasizing that Mt Sinaiis not the highest mountain in Egypt, neighbouring Mount Catherine with its peak at 2,629 metres is.

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