progression

Tonight I'm sat here having abandoned a day at work due to a cold that has essentially flattened me. Over the weekend I overdid things, not only have some of the pressures of life been overtaking me but I've essentially been failing to rest. A new job, stresses at home and then a weekend spent out in the cold have all served to teach me a lesson - in order to progress, sometimes you just have to sit back a while.

There are things in my life I'm not happy with, others that I am and some halfway between. Everything takes work, the question really is whether the amount of work necessary is really worth it. Are the efforts you make the things that define you or is your identity more than just the sum of your efforts? There was a time where I could have told you exactly who I was with absolute certainty. Sadly I fear I lost that certainty somewhere and I'm only just trying to rediscover it.

Sounds deep doesn't it? Well perhaps it is. I've been needing to take stock of things for a while now, too many things have left me scared, insecure and basically burying my head in the sand because of the uncertainty. I've always known that to get to where I want to be will take commitment and effort, the real difficulty has been in defining where the destination should actually be.

Being back at work and doing something that finally feels like the kind of challenge I should be working on is fantastic. I put a vast amount of effort into winning this contract and I'm not going to stop now - I love to work hard at things that are tangible, where the fruits of my labours may actually be worth something. So few of the things I've been doing over the past few years have felt that way that I think I'm very lucky to have stumbled back into a part of my old identity.

Lots of things are going to be hard for me in the coming years. Everything will be a fight to reach my goals, but so long as I keep focus, retain the hunger and never lose sight of the strength I've always had buried inside, then I know damn well that I will get there - just watch me, I was born to fly!

living the dream

Living the dream, or should I say 'living a dream' is surprisingly hard work.

I was driving home from the gym tonight, shoulders aching like hell after once again doing too much, partially drifting away into my own little world hidden behind the pools of light in front of the car when a thought struck me - this is what living a dream is really like.

The past few weeks have been hard. Very hard. Each day I get up and have to force myself to do something. Who knows, in a few weeks I may well be back working and the stress and shame of being completely broke will be gone, but for now it hurts. I couldn't even afford to pay my aircraft insurance renewal last week, I had to beg help. This is definitely a low point.

The dream isn't glamorous. It's just plain hard work. The flying part of being a display pilot is only a tiny fraction of what it actually takes, especially when you're breaking into the airshow world. The glamour just doesn't exist - I spend my time playing with websites, gathering contact details, writing and sending hundreds of emails, drawing up flyers and logos and graphics, battling to just keep some semblance of sanity. All this time I've not even had the sanity check of flying my little beast - the process of modifying an aeroplane is a very long winded one, involving much heartache, huge amounts of expense and some very frustrating periods of waiting, and waiting and waiting some more - all whilst the powers that be try to make a decision over whether or not you should actually be allowed your modification.

To those of you that fly but have never owned an aeroplane, you may think you have an idea what it must be like but trust me, the frustrations of waiting on paperwork and engineers is barely bearable at times. I should just take the opportunity to say thanks to my friends for at least allowing me to get airborne, the sky really is a beautiful place to be, whatever craft you happen to be in.

I guess every dream has its own nightmare that has to go along with it - something about being no light without darkness. I know, I'm prattling, but in all honesty if anyone decides to try to live their dream and doesn't reckon with having to cope with a whole heap of hardship, effort and tears along the way then they're going to have a rude awakening. Just as light needs darkness, endeavours need to be difficult in order to really be worth while - why bother throwing everything you have into something if it's not going to be a challenge? Maybe it's just me, but victories are much sweeter when they're hard won.

How many other people actually do this, I mean really do this. How many choose to make a dream reality, despite huge odds stacked against them? To all of you doers and dreamers out there, I'm with you.

outlet

It's been over a year since I visited this old blog of mine, let alone updated it. Basically my life has changed, dramatically.

I'm no longer living in the mountains, now my life is primarily confined to the flat-lands of Cambridgeshire. A big part of me misses Wales, the hills, my friends, my old climbing/biking/running/outdoors lifestyle, but there's an even bigger part of me that knows my current course in life is where I need to be. At least for now.

So what's happened? I wrote before about my getting into aerobatic flying, and, well, that's essentially what happened and where my life is now. I own my own aeroplane, I'm the current British Female Aerobatic champion and I'm also a newly qualified airshow and display pilot. I know, wow huh?

Flying it is then!

That said, I still have the mountain bike, I hit the climbing wall in Milton Keynes as often as I can and I head to the gym several times a week too (I may have spent several months doing nothing, got a bit fat and panicked - hence I'm back to being a fitness obsessive again and actually I do rather like it). Once I've gotten a work regime sorted out and some money again I'll be heading out to the hills for some therapy whenever I can too - I know my roots.

I guess I should mention where it is that I've been in online terms, because whilst I've not been posting here, I have been posting flying stuff on my aerobatic blog - The Aerobatic Project and I've built another website for myself in order to promote and try to sell my display flying - BiplaneDisplays.com. Please head over to either and/or both and take a look - let me know what you think!

So why am I back here, and why now? Basically I wanted to come back here to revisit something of my old way of life, and to rekindle my old style of writing. I basically want an outlet again, somewhere I can write about the every day, mundane and 'normal life' type things I think about. The Aerobatic Project is really all about being a new face in the competition flying world and what that's like, so there's no place there for me waffling on about the odd thoughts that strike me in the gym. Hence, I'm back!

Apologies right now if some of the things I write about are boring, or just downright weird. Hopefully I'll come out with a few things that may actually be of interest too.

To all of you that are still here, wow. Thank you for bearing with me!

stuff and nonsense

It has come to mind of late, that I may well have been losing touch of some of the things that are most important in my life. This flying business has been taking over so much of my time that most everything else has been put on hold or neglected in some way, this blog being no exception.

I’ve had very little time in the hills, virtually no time climbing and minimal time on the mountain bike over the past couple of months, and it became very apparent to me on Tuesday, just how much I’ve been missing it all, even if I’ve failed to realise it at the time. On Tuesday I met up with my old friend Adam for a blast out on the mountain bikes over on the Long Mynd.

I love the Mynd, it’s just a beautiful part of the world, the views of Shropshire and across the borders into my home county of Powys are truly gorgeous, and the geography of the whole thing is wonderful and makes for some cracking walking and/or biking.

It had been a good month since I’d last had the bike out, a fact of which I was all to well aware on the first bit of ascent. The pain in my legs and lungs was almost entirely quashed by the simple joy in my heart at being out, up there, breathing the fresh air with the wind in my face and a good friend by my side.

The joy did rather change to fear and cramp in my hands and feet as our descent of Minton Batch under what can only be described as ‘rather muddy’ conditions very quickly revealed just how poorly my tyres grip in slippy, gloopy Shropshire muck (my tight-fisted desire to not spend any more money on bike parts may have now developed a tyre buying exception clause). A major sidewinder moment left me wondering exactly how I’d managed to not end up on my face in a pile of sheep droppings as I heard the never to be forgotten cry of “there’s a puddle in my gusset!” from a rather amused, if damp Adam riding behind me.

Wet it was. Muddy it will probably remain for the rest of the winter, and a joy it will always be. I love Minton Batch, I love the Long Mynd and I love being out in the hills.

Roll on the winter and some more soul clarifying days and nights into 2012. I’ll be back to re-sample my sanity out there as soon as I can.

long time coming

The last thing I posted up here was a bit of a look at who I am – the person with whom you are sharing this relationship. I believe there is definitely a relationship between writer and reader, even if the two have never met and are never likely to, the relationship still exists. On here I share a great deal of myself at times – the real ‘who I am’ if you like. My last post described parts of my actual life that many of you may not have known about, but really, it’s in these late night outpourings that you get a closer glimpse of the type of person I really am.

I don’t mind sharing, I’ve always been keen to give of myself, whether it be as a shoulder to a friend in need, a listening ear to someone just needing to vent, or as a willing volunteer in a team out on a hillside somewhere in the middle of a dark, rainy night answering a call for help.

On these pages sometimes I give a little bit more of myself than I’m necessarily comfortable with, not that you, as the readers, would ever realise (unless I actually told you at the time). My writings aren’t always aimed to please or inform, sometimes they are simply a form of release for my over-active mind, my emotions or just a way of attempting to win the battle with insomnia. A few of these blog entries are entirely selfish in their writing, and yet I’m aware that sometimes it is these entries that many of you find the most moving or inspirational.

This blog has been running as a project of mine for a few years now. It started life as a means of staving off the boredom of days spent in an office with no work to do (at the time I was a field engineer and as such my actual ‘work’ was usually out on site somewhere). I never actually intended for any of my writings to necessarily become part of a public forum – they were just for me, as a means of maintaining the creativity that I’d had cultivated as a child. After a while it became apparent though, that people were actually reading what I was writing, and my approach changed. I suppose the ‘diary’ eventually became a real blog, with postings that were meant to be read and enjoyed.

I enjoy the blogging process immensely and find watching the ‘stats’ is a simple yet effective pleasure – I love seeing the numbers gradually change because each incremental increase means that something else that I’ve written or photographed or shared has been looked at by another human being. We all like to communicate and most of us like to share – it’s a big part of what makes us who we are. Every person that reads my blog or my Facebook or Twitter feed gains another fragmentary insight into me as a person, and as I’ve already stated, I do like to share.

So where is it that I’m going with all of this? Lately much of my time has been taken up with working on the biggest project of my life – one that I’ve alluded to in previous postings. My fight to become a top class aerobatic pilot has begun, and whilst I’m very much at the ‘beginner’ stage right now, I’m working hard to make sure that I will actually have the opportunity to push myself onward to bigger and bigger things. It isn’t easy.

The project at the moment is focused around the new website that I’m working on – the site that will be showcasing not just who I am and what I am trying to achieve for myself, but will also be aimed at sharing my inspiration, motivation and enthusiasm with as many other people as possible.

What I’m trying to achieve is nothing short of extraordinary, and I know that. In order to achieve something extraordinary you have to become extraordinary yourself, and in my mind anyone who has the desire to do so also has the capability – often all people need is a little bit of encouragement in order to start to achieve their potential. I’ve had a great deal of encouragement from a great number of people, many of whom I’ve not yet met. My humble beginnings (for I am not rich, in fact far from it – affording to fly is something I simply am not able to do, and yet somehow I make it happen…) are not something that I have ever allowed to hold me back – if I’ve wanted to do something I’ve found a way to work and make it happen. Anyone can do this, anyone can find ways to reach their potential and achieve their goals if they are willing to commit to what it takes – and this is what “The Aerobatic Project” is about. It’s not just about me, it’s not just about flying, it’s about a person becoming something, it’s about believing in yourself and making what some may say is ‘impossible’ actually something to fight for.

So yes, it has been a long time coming – the realisation that I’m capable of becoming somebody, that I have no reason not to believe in myself. The knowledge that one day I’ll be able to look back and know, that no matter what the outcome, the effort I put in was total, the way I fought was with passion and genuine commitment. Even if for some reason I don’t manage to reach the places I’m aiming for, I know I’ll be able to look back and feel truly proud because everything I did was everything I was capable of. There will be no regrets.

The website isn’t live yet – I’ll let you know when it is and you can all head over and lend your support through those lovely little statistical numbers. I’ll appreciate it more than you realise.

If any of you feel you’d like to offer any direct support, be it through sponsorship of the project (which is going to be a big battle), through taking photographs or assisting with the videos, introducing me to like-minded individuals and pilots, by offering articles (oh yes, I’ll be keen to feature more than just my own writings with this one), by sharing my links on your own sites or featuring the project in other media, or even just by saying hello and offering a kind word, then please drop me a line! I’m always super keen to receive feedback of any sort so please do let me know what you’re thinking, either in the comments box here, on the site when it goes live, or by contacting me through Twitter/Facebook/Youtube or via email: all my links are now here: http://about.me/lauren_richardson

Oh, and thank you for reading :)

L.x

catalysts

Every so often in life, you come across something or someone who changes everything. Sometimes it’s just a simple thought process or a question that inspires you or plants a seed. Sometimes it’s an act or an experience that immerses you so completely that you know in an instant that the course of your life has been irreversibly altered.

I love life. I love living, I love feeling. Simple things like sitting down and enjoying a meal with a friend – simple pleasures and moments savouring tastes, smells and company. Talking, laughing, joking, sharing opinions and ideas. These simple moments are sometimes all we need to grow, to start to realise that aspects of our lives work while others need to be worked on.

Very rarely some people find focus in a singular activity. I suspect many people may never experience the pleasure of this kind of clarity in focus. I must be lucky – I know what I want, I know who I am and who I want to be.

Finding ways to make things happen may be hard and sometimes I sit here and worry. I find myself seriously wondering if I’m making a big mistake in trying – is it all pointless? Am I wasting my time? Can I do this? Can I make this happen? Do I have the fight in me? Do I have the focus and the ability?

None of these doubts actually matter – I know what I want and what needs to be done, I can see the barriers and the obstacles and deep down I know I’m capable of entering the fight. Whether I will win is never going to be certain, but isn’t life all about the journey rather than the outcome?

I’ve spent much of my life feeling like an underachiever, when the reality is I have been achieving things many people consider to be amazing. I guess I’m growing mentally, I can now meet people, make friends, talk and realise that even though they may not really know me, they believe in me. Suddenly I’m finding that I actually believe in myself too.

Sometimes it takes big things to make us realise the small ones, and sometimes it’s the small things that have the biggest effect.

 

To all of those people in my life who have ever believed in me, said a nice word, done a nice thing or simply wished me well – thank you. You are all catalysts.

momentary

I live for moments, for brief encounters and fleeting glimpses - those moments that linger in my mind despite sometimes never really existing. Fantastic ideas, wishes and desires, held deep inside a fervid imagination, all were and are triggered by moments.

If this is not a basic element of human nature, then it is certainly an elemental part of who I am. My mind likes to wander to places that I can never really reach...if I could reach them then where would be the fantasy?

Moments come and go, some lasting for more than a simple flash or glimmer - these are grasped and held tightly, being built up from imagination and fantasy, into dreams and aspirations, they become my desires. Many other moments have been lost before I had even realised they were happening - they linger with me as either haunting questions that sink, heavy, into my soul, or as the occasional warm grin that I fail to control.

Life is momentary.

slacker than slack

I’ve just realised how long it’s been since my last entry here. Guess I’ve had a bit of a bloggage blockage. Admittedly I’m still nursing my ankle injury from the Saunders last weekend, and as such I’ve done nothing outdoorsy of merit. That said, there are some big changes afoot for me.

This week I’m going to be over in Llanberis with Phill George doing my Mountain Leader training (about bloody time too), with the hope of being able to get to assessment as soon as possible, my main thought being to have another potential source of the odd bit of pocket money. Let’s face it, when it comes to the whole outdoorsy thing I have been doing quite a lot for quite a long time. I hope to have some time to think and work on some strategies this week too. This isn’t the biggest news however.

The biggest news surrounds a huge decision I’ve been pondering for a while now – whether or not to commit to flying as a career. Now, I’m not talking about becoming an airborne bus driver (although that would be pretty cool), no. I’ve got my sights set on maintaining the narcotic rush I get from flying aerobatics, and finally, after much thought I’ve decided that the only hope for my sanity is to get off my backside and commit to giving everything I have to trying to make it work – I want to be an elite level aerobatic pilot.

Soon you’ll start seeing a new series of writings being added to Flight of the Bumblie as I train and flight for the Flight of the Aerobatic Bumblie. I’m not 100% sure what form these postings will take, but they will begin to form a catalogue of interesting perspectives, tips, tricks, photographs, videos and experiences of what it feels like and what it takes to devote your life to something completely improbable.

It has been said that I have a hint of insanity about me, and indeed I must do, but it’s this insanity and the drive that comes from it that is what my life is really all about. I need challenge, I need flight, I need improbability. I live to fight the odds, to push myself and my limits, and I don’t mind taking a few risks in order to do so.

I’d rather give everything in a gamble and lose, than to look back on my life regretting never trying.

all in a spin

I admit it, I’m messed up. Stupid, deluded, obsessed, whatever you’d like to call me – I won’t deny any of it, nor will I defend it or try to pretend otherwise.

I learned to fly back in 2008/9 because it was something I’d always wanted to do, it was something I never thought I’d be able to achieve, a challenge financially, motivationally, psychologically and intellectually. I loved it, even the nerve-wrackingly terrifying parts of it, all of it was amazing and despite the immense financial burden it placed on me, I don’t regret one single second.

Of course the financial burden became too much when I left my secure full-time engineering job in the middle of the recession, and for well over a year I didn’t fly at all. At first it was tough, I felt like a junkie going cold turkey, but after the first couple of months of pain I eventually found I could live without the buzz and the pleasure I got from living a part of my life in the skies.

Moving on a few months to the point where I started doing contract work and found myself with some ‘disposable’ income again: I vowed to get back into the air – despite no longer ‘needing’ the rush, I never stopped feeling the pangs of desire each time I drove past an airfield or watched a Cessna float overhead. It should have ended at that. I should now be blogging about flying cross country, meeting people in different airfields across the UK and nearly getting lost in poor weather, but if you’ve been reading this blog for a while you’ll know that I’ve upped the ante somewhat and flying for me is no longer simply about being in the air, but about testing my limits and seeing the world from a whole different perspective.

On Saturday I went ‘normal’ flying again, for the first time in far, far too long. In fact, I’m currently desperately trying to get enough hours in to retain my license currency, having failed to pay attention to the fact that it will lapse next Sunday if I don’t get my finger out – and if that happens it will mean a repeat of the Skills Test. Frankly I’d rather just keep myself current, and so I’ve been flying in a PA28, going cross country and just generally trying to get back up to speed in conventional aircraft so that I can go and log some solo time again. Of course there’s a good chance I’ll fail to get in the necessary hours and will still have to repeat the test, but c’est la vie – at least I’ll be back up to speed enough to cope with it by then!

Normal flying is ace, I still love it and want to do more. My friend Matt came with us on Saturday and sat in the back whilst I flailed and fannied about trying to learn to fly a new aircraft type in some of the most windy and turbulent conditions I can remember ever flying in. Not once did he complain, but in fact seems to have really enjoyed the experience – so much that he’s now trying to talk himself out of wanting to learn to fly himself…Of course for me, knowing how much enjoyment the trip gave him, and how much he’s been buzzing about it afterwards is a truly magical feeling.

Saturday’s flight tested me mentally, in that suddenly I’d had to remember how to do everything I’d not done for a year an a half – plan a flight, do the calculations, prep the aircraft, fly it (whilst learning the nuances of another different aircraft type), navigate, cope with sub-optimal wind conditions, fly into an unfamiliar airfield without damaging anything or making myself look like a useless dweeb, all whilst also trying to convince an incredibly experienced and talented instructor that I’m not totally incompetent and can in fact pilot an aircraft by myself. I was nervous and not a little stressed, but I still loved every minute of it. I do have to also admit that the time I’ve spent flying the Pitts with Paul seems to have given me a degree of confidence I would otherwise have been lacking…

The previous day (Friday) was when I’d realised my somewhat urgent license scenario, after I’d been flying the Pitts again. Friday’s flight itself had been something really quite special for me though…I’d overcome a couple of mental barriers and been left feeling invigorated, positive and just a tiny bit sick.

Actually, I’ve understated that last part – Friday’s flight had left me feeling sick as a dog for the whole of the rest of the day in fact. My head had been in a spin, along with the rest of my body and the aeroplane. Several times…

Dread. Fear. Sheer bloody terror. When Paul looked me in the eye on Friday and told me I’d be learning to spin and recover, fear was what gripped me. Fear, verging on panic. There was nothing I’d been dreading more – I knew that I was going to have to learn sometime, not just from an aerobatic point of view but from a safety point of view too, yet when the moment came to climb into the cockpit and head off to deliberately start stalling and throwing the aeroplane into what for all the world feels like a uncontrolled tumble, I wanted nothing more than to run away and never fly again.

Being forced to sit down and talk it all through on the ground, to explain what it was that scared me and what I actually thought a spin was proved to be a revelation. Having someone explain in simple terms exactly what happens and why, and how you are actually controlling the manoeuvre and choosing to end it (as opposed to ‘recovering’ as if something had gone wrong, when sometimes it’s exactly what you’ve been intending) was exactly what I needed. I needed to understand, to know what I was going to be feeling, and to trust. I was still scared when it came to the first spin in the air, but knowing I was in good hands and trusting that those hands were pushing me forwards to progress was an exhilarating feeling. Finally gaining a degree of understanding of what was happening and then being encouraged and guided into a knowledge and a new capability of control meant that by the end of the flight I realized I was actually enjoying myself. Laughing and grinning uncontrollably, I was enjoying the feeling of pushing things, forcing myself forwards out of my old comfort zone and on into a realm that had been a closed door a few hours before.

I am addicted. I’m hooked. I never want to let this go again – I want to fly, to push myself, to push my limits and find out how good I can be. I want to be helped, guided, cajolled, pushed, pulled, bullied, coaxed, comforted, cuddled and held, beaten, battered and forced out of my comfort zone over and over and over again. I want to understand who I am and what I can be, I want to know where my limits really lie and how far I can push them.

My head hasn’t stopped spinning despite the rest of my body stopping, and I love it. All of it.

life, the universe and aerobatics

Sadly the answer is not 42.

I’m not sure there really is an answer actually, but some slightly more specific questions will, of course, have slightly more specific answers.

Living life in the short-term is easy. You just think about what it is you want to be doing today, tomorrow, maybe even next week. You plan trips and holidays for later in the year and you think about ways to pay for everything and just focus on a means to survive. The medium-term isn’t much different. For me, the medium-term covers the next couple of years, the time during which I have definite contract work scheduled, time during which I know for sure I’ll have some form of income, as sporadic as it may be.

My dilemma comes in a variety of guises and eventually, when I finally focus enough to see through the outer layers, is revealed to really be a question of what happens in the long-term.

What has gotten me questioning things like this? Well it’s simple really – I’ve found a new love, something that has captured my imagination and my soul and is something that with things the way they are happens to be completely unsustainable.

Anyone that knows me will know that I tend to not do things by halves. A symptom of a chronic lack of self-esteem perhaps? A product of being bullied as a child and never feeling like I could ever be good enough? However you choose to look at things/me from a psychological perspective, the end result is that whenever I find something I feel is worth doing, I tend to throw everything I can at it. I’m a constant underachiever inside my head – no matter how others may view me and the things I do, deep down inside I know it’s never enough, which is why I keep on trying, fighting and flying.

And this is where we get to: flying. I’ve always wanted to fly. Gaining my Private Pilot’s License was one of my life highlights. Never before had I worked so hard for something that meant so much to me, which is why having to stop flying after I quit my job was so painful. Finally getting back into in the past few months has been something of a trial though – I’ve felt at once incompetent, useless and unconfident. Meeting Paul and taking my first few flights in the Pitts Special started to change those feelings though, and hence I now find myself in a short/medium/long-term dilemma…

I want to fly. I need it, this is a big part of who I am. It’s an odd thing to do though – many of the days I’m due to fly I tend to wake up in the morning full of dread, wishing for bad weather so I don’t have to go. I don’t understand why this should be, because upon climbing into the cockpit those feelings instantly start to melt away. Feeling the weight of your fears dissolve as the cushion of lift pushes you off up into the sky is something quite special, for me only topped by the challenge that finding a focus in the freedom of aerobatic movement has started to give me. I need this, like a junkie needs their next hit, somehow I can’t let go and in fact, I don’t want to.

Ok so it’s not as simple as just wanting to fly, I don’t just want to fly, I want to fly aerobatics. I want to learn to fly the Pitts Special, and by that I don’t just mean becoming able to get her into the air and back down onto the ground again safely (although these two elements are a major challenge in themselves), but being able to understand how she handles, feel instinctively how to treat her and fly in partnership with her, carrying out manoeuvres and sequences that at first feel impossible, but upon learning feel unlike anything else you could ever imagine.

There is another element to this dilemma though – being the way I am, just learning to fly aerobatics won’t be enough, I know I’ll want to do more. Is this something I could be good at? Really good? I don’t know, but I need to find out. Somehow.

Sounds simple so far doesn’t it? I know what I want so I’ve just got to find a way to do it right? Well this is where the long-term issues start to rear their ugly heads. How on earth do I afford this? In the short to medium terms, I have the means to continue but not for long, and in the long-term I have no way to sustain the habit, financially it is crippling.

“If you want it enough, you’ll find a way.”

So here we are, I need to find that way. I’m not sure my field of engineering can sustain me in the long-term, the radio industry is evolving rapidly at the moment and I can see it changing into something that no longer captures my interest, and I’m not someone who can live life working a job that I hate – I need to be inspired, I need to enjoy what I’m doing, especially if my life is dominated by the time it takes. It’s all well and good having hobbies that grant you freedom and satisfaction, but if the work you do in order sustain them leaves you resenting the need, then what is the point?

I’ve got some big decisions to make – I’m not looking for any sympathy here, this isn’t that kind of blog posting. I’m incredibly lucky – I have a life that has options, I have a husband willing to support me in whatever I decide and I have the chance to learn a skill that is truly breathtaking. I just need to find a way to make it happen.

life

I’ve not felt like writing much recently, there are too many things on my mind, and too much of life just seems to be getting in the way of living.

My home is gone, one month on I am still living in a caravan on the driveway waiting in limbo for a ethereal insurer to save us. Slowly I’m losing my grip on hope, one day salvation will come, but meanwhile the descending spiral of woes both real and imagined hasn’t even begun to slow.

Morbid thoughts have been clouding my mind after my involvement with the recent flooding as a SAR ‘observer’. My mother has been in intensive care after a severe infection and emergency operations, and with her and my longsuffering father all my remaining strength and positivity are invested.

I’ve been flying and failed to concentrate, failed to be caught in the inexorable grip of the G-forces we court when flying aerobatics, failed to immerse myself in the fight and just ended up feeling sick and despondent, this is not like me.

I’ve been to Scotland to attempt to climb, and been repulsed by the weather and avalanche risk, yet another unsuccessful trip to stir the soul into desolation.

A whole host of other things are also battling to drag my mind down to within sight of the bottom, yet somehow the light is still there shining above me and I can’t let that go.

I was successful at a job interview last week and will be heading off for a week of training next week with Ofcom – I will be working at the Olympic games in 2012 as an Venue Engineer (running radio investigation) – a chance of a lifetime and an experience I’m really excited about being given the opportunity to have. The interview gave me the chance to talk about who I am and what I’m capable of, showed me once more that I’m skilled and capable as an engineer and valued as a person.

I’m off to Rjukan, Norway after the week at Ofcom, for a two week ice climbing trip I’ve been planning since the middle of last year, and despite losing my climbing partner for the trip, and failing to be anywhere near where I would like to be with my strength and fitness training, I feel good about the whole thing, I know that all I need to do to have the trip of my career so far, is to open my mind and let myself believe in myself. This is a feeling I’ve not had before, a knowledge that as long as I try, as long as I trust and let myself run, things will work out ok.

I just need to apply this philosophy to the rest of life, it can all be ok.

the new year

My blogging of late has been horribly lax, and my simple explanation as to why, is simply that I’ve had nothing to say, nothing I’ve wanted to share. I’ve been ill for what seems like weeks now, in fact ever since my ascent of Maesglasau Falls with Dave I’ve suffered a whole series of setbacks – first the bout of food poisoning that left me totally empty in more ways than one, then what I have termed the ‘uber cold’ (it wasn’t the ‘flu, but it did leave me feeling as weak and lethargic as my last bout of real ‘flu did), and now some inexplicable round of serious infection in my lip and gums.

So basically, thus far, 2011 hasn’t really been my year. I feel drained, horrendously unfit and pretty disappointed in myself. Plans had been forged to enable this winter season to be incredible – I spent most of the summer training my fitness, my strength and psychological levels were good, and then work came and after that the seemingly never-ending period of illness. It all feels like such a waste.

So, now I’m sat here, dosed up on antibiotics, still in a fair amount of pain (stupid gum infection), slightly depressed about how things have been going, but also feeling positive that I’m going to turn it all round.

Plans for more Winter forays are being made, partners are being sought out, training is starting to be done to get me back into a fit enough state to survive the Ben Nevis walk-in. Of course my trip to Rjukan in March is still enough of a way off that I may yet still be capable of climbing that WI6 I’m lusting over, so all is not yet lost!

I’m also working harder with my Mountain Rescue stuff – this weekend should yield some hilarity with my Helicopter and winch training scheduled for tomorrow at RAF Valley (I can’t wait!!), and next weekend is the ‘Casualty Care’ course, for which I have been struggling to study but mostly failing because I find the text book such hard work – I just hope I can retain enough from the course to pass the exam in February!

If all that weren’t enough, I’ve set up a couple of pages to raise some money for NEWSAR (North East Wales Search and Rescue) through two events I’m now signed up for:

Sponsor me (and Matt) in the Saunders Lakeland Mountain Marathon (my first ever MM) here: http://www.charitygiving.co.uk/laurenrichardson

Or, if you’re more of a road runner, sponsor me (and Matt again) to run the Snowdonia Marathon (my first road marathon) in October, here: http://www.charitygiving.co.uk/laurenrichardson2011

Both of these events will be serious tests of my resolve and my motivations, as I’m going to be putting in some real training efforts for both of them. The Snowdonia Marathon in particular scares me. I’ve never run that kind of distance before, and I’m out of running shape at the moment, but I’m determined not to embarrass myself and as such will also be participating in a few shorted distance races in the lead up (one of them will hopefully be the Lake Vyrnwy half-marathon, if I can ever manage to book a place, and I’m also now toying with possibly entering the ‘Race the Train’ event in Tywyn in August…should be an interesting year!)

Tips and encouragement will all be much appreciated, and I will be keeping the blog updated through the year with progress on how our training is going for each event. I’ll also be pointing out the links more and more as the time draws closer.

bitter and twisted

Sadly this is not a positive post, despite a good few days enjoying the wonderful cold and icy conditions Wales has currently been offering.

No, this is not a pleasant musing over some gorgeous ‘alpine’ weather days and beautiful mountain situations.

This, is a rant.

Firstly I want to say a massive thank you to the ‘climber’ (one of a group of three soloists, who were so rude, technically inept and downright dangerous it wasn’t even a good laugh watching), who failed to shout a warning after he dislodged a 2-3kg chunk of ice from the ice fall some 45m above us, and which hit me firmly on the top of the head. If you happen to read this (and I know who you are!) then I would appreciate a payment being sent to me to cover the cost of my new helmet (either cash or cheque would be fine – just email me and I will give you an address to post to). Also, one quick word of advice – either learn how to climb ice competently and thereby safely if you are going to continue soloing routes at all, or just learn to use a rope and gear, that way at least you’ll be a touch safer whilst you flail.

Whoooo. Ok so now that one is off my chest, a slightly less bitter and more generalised rant about winter climbing and the prolific availability of information via the internet.

Now, information and communication can hardly be argued to be a bad thing, and this is not what I am trying to say. However, the likes of the ‘definitive’ conditions blogs and UKC are providing very easy means for every climber who has ever so much as sneezed at an ice route to know where to go to find Welsh ice routes in good condition. Not a bad thing at all you may think? Well it wouldn’t be if the more popular and perhaps more easily accessible or ‘classic’ areas and routes weren’t suddenly being inundated by climbers whose skill levels are often akin to my level of ability at glass blowing (which for those of you who don’t know, is something I have never tried, and therefore something I’m unlikely to be good at…). Routes have long queues (for the sake of your sanity DO NOT go to the Devil’s Kitchen on a weekend, not unless you really want to experience the ice climbing equivalent of Stanage on a sunny bank holiday). The main problem in my mind however, is not so much the need to queue for routes, as people’s complete lack of consideration and etiquette (cat’s cradle with ropes as 3 pairs compete for the same 3m wide strip of ice?!), and often, lack of ability meaning the routes are quite literally being hacked to pieces. How there have not been more accidents lately I do not know.

So please, if you go and climb a classic ice fall that isn’t currently known about by the general population, for god’s sake don’t go and post on UKC about how fabulous it was, or let Baggy Richards know so he can tell the world it is in condition (no offence Baggy, I think your blog and the work you’re doing with it is awesome, but sometimes a little knowledge is good to keep quiet about eh?).

…uses for a nutkey

Nutkey, aka proddler. A climbing tool used primarily to aid the removal of leader placed protection when seconding.

Quite simple little devices really – basically a short, flat metal stick with a hook on the end. So, what are they really for…

• thwacking nuts/wires that are ‘solidly placed’, usually when seconding (where it is your responsibility to recover all of the gear the leader has placed, no matter how masochistic you may think they were being)
• ‘re-seating’ non-optimally placed wires, when leading (of course, as a leader you won’t ever place bad gear, nor will you ever have to resort to the kind of violence for which your second is well known when removing your extremely secure gear placements)
• ‘hooking’ the trigger bars of cams/friends that have walked too deeply into a crack to be released by hand. This is what the hooks on the end were originally designed for. (Ok, ok, so I know this one is a bit of a stretch – has anyone EVER managed this?)
• ‘gardening’, that is, removing moss, mud, crud and other substances (eww) from cracks and holds
• ‘animal control’ – mainly removing large spiders from cracks, usually with a deft and elegant flick of the wrist in order to send said creature into a section of space a LONG way from you, and hopefully not onto your belayer’s head. (Other ‘animals’ may include all manner of insects, from flies, woodlice or earwigs, to man-eating furry caterpillars – anything larger is often best dealt with by running away)
• ‘fishing’ – retrieval of dropped items, sometimes achieved by tying the nutkey onto a section of rope which is then dangled (similar to ‘hooking’, but generally more useful)
• as cutlery
• as a stirrer (not the same as cutlery)
• as a bread knife (although probably more accurately described as a bread disintegrator)
• scratching those hard to reach areas
• pointing at stuff, especially obscure guidebook references
• torture, i.e. in transportation (how often do the damn things end up digging in your back through your rucksack? And what’s more it nearly always happens when you’ve made an extra special effort to prevent it – it’s like they know…)
• for aiding with mud bank top-outs to routes – the ‘mud-axe’
• the ‘universal toolkit’ – knife (very blunt), saw (even more blunt than the knife so you’ll have to be very persistent, it should also be noted that the universal nutkey saw is generally less than effective on any material with a hardness or density greater than that of lukewarm butter), chunky flatblade screwdriver (try it!), can opener (maybe? could be painful though…you have been warned), scraper (although possibly not ideal for scraping ice off of car windscreens…), etc
• poking unidentified items you don’t want to touch, but for some inexplicable reason, you just need to

running out

Running.

I've contemplated doing some serious distances but I just find it all too tedious. Went for a run this morning  - did 7.1miles (11.4km) in 1hr12mins or so, which is pretty slow really (but my circuit laps are incredibly hilly- I used to be much much faster when I was running on flatter surfaces, and I guess I still would be). It’s the first time I've pushed that kind of distance in a while and boy did I feel it towards the end.

Have you ever had a weird sensation of cold when running? Like you've just crossed that barrier of having used all your readily available calories and your metabolism doesn't seem to know what to do, so you feel cold and almost shivery, even though you're running just as hard as you were before? This morning was the third time I've felt like that, it's almost like an extreme fatigue where mentally you just can't imagine being able to finish the route - you've given everything and now you're running out, but you keep going anyway, one step at a time, you grit your teeth and keep going, swallowing the pain and the nausea until eventually you're done - and you hadn't even realised...

I’m not sure if I’m really cut out to be a runner, it’s just not my ‘thing’. Part of me wishes that I could suck it up, train and go run a marathon (a friend of mine got me thinking about this – he’s been a real inspiration to keep me going of late so thank you Anders), it seems like one of those things that you should do at least once in your life and what’s more, it would make my Dad proud. So maybe I should – I’d love to see the look on his face as he stood at the finish line waiting for me. He used to run and compete alot, he ran marathons – running WAS his ‘thing’. I’m sure he is proud of me, and of all the things I’ve achieved so far, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to make him smile and feel that warm glow inside, the one you get when someone you love does something amazing and you feel good to be a part of their small circle. So yeah, a marathon…I’m going to have to think on that one…

So anyway, this week is [hopefully] going to be a turning point for me – I’ve decided that because I still don’t have to go to work, and the main reason I left the world of the employed was so that I could train harder, get fit and become a better climber (well that and so that I wouldn’t end up killing my bosses), I am actually going to get my act together and start training properly. Too little effort, too much time spent reading, watching DVDs, cooking, eating cake, and just generally being lazy of late has not been helping me in my quest – so this week that all changes. I just need to resist the calling of the scones…

my head

Ok so I admit it, I have some serious head issues. I mean, what is it that causes me to freak out when climbing a route using hand placed protection? Ok so I’m not the most confident climber anyway (falling? What’s that? I’m too scared to fall indoors let alone out), but it seems that traditional climbing brings out the worst of my issues much more directly and strongly than any other form of climbing. Ok so that may sound logical to most, after all, relying on small wire wedges in sometimes questionable placements has got to be more dangerous than relying on a nice solid resin bolt yeah? Well for me the head issues used to be the other way around, I used to get far more scared on sport routes than traditional ones – a phenomenon I could only reconcile by assuming that the focus and concentration required to place solid gear on a traditional climb brought me a seemingly higher level of confidence in my own mentality and control than the simple clipping of quickdraws required on sport lines. I also used to think that traditional routes may have offered you more freedom of direction and routing than that provided when you have to follow a trail of steel hangers…however, my views of the different forms of climbing have begun to change…more on that soon.

Anyway, this week has been moderately successful training and climbing-wise as I have managed to do a decent length run (admittedly really slowly, more of a jog really I guess), a couple of wall sessions at the Beacon (which were INTENSE), and have been out real climbing on a day where the sky didn’t seem to be caving in on us like someone had left the taps on in the bath and the ceiling had finally given way.

the phone box mystery

Life is full of little mysteries and unanswered questions, questions like 'why do men have nipples?', 'why do we hiccup?', 'why does drinking tea always make me desperately need the toilet?', and 'why are there random video cassettes in my local phone box?'.

Yes, video cassettes.
Each time I walk past the phone box on the way to the local shop there are a selection of videos balanced in different places in the cubicle.
Phil and I have been puzzling over this for a while. The videos are usually in boxes but sometimes just have stickers on them. They are always 'innocent' (or at least marked as such) - things like 'Watch with Mother' or 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs' or 'Pride and Prejudice'.

The weirdest part though is the fact that they are changed regularly. The first time we noticed the cassettes we assumed they had just been left there as a one off. Sure enough the next time we walked past they had gone and the cubicle was empty - we assumed that someone had simply thrown them away, however, on our next trip past the phone box there were more videos - and they were different.
We don't walk past all that often, but each time we do there seems to be a new selection available, always seemingly of an innocent nature just like the first crop.

We don't have a TV or VCR and so haven't picked any of them up to find out what is actually on them, and to be honest I'm not really sure I want to know anyway...

Several theories have been discussed - is this the base of a porn exchange ring? Are these stolen CCTV tapes? Or have we stumbled upon something even more sinister?

One thing is for sure - I really don't get it!

trust

Have you ever had a climbing partner let you down? Ever been fooled into thinking you're safe: they're solid, reliable, completely trustworthy, only then to be let down when it really mattered? Maybe they were simply looking the other way, focussing on something else, just for a second...just long enough for a hold to snap, a foot to slip...

I was dropped once. I didn't really know my belayer - I'd only met him an hour or so beforehand but hey - he said the right things, he was a climber, he was safe.
It hurt a bit when I hit the ground, nothing major but it was enough to make me think - who am I trusting? What reason do I have to believe that I'm not going to be let down?


I wrote the above in a late night email to a friend a couple of days ago - I was annoyed and trying to make a point about something rather more menial (something along the lines of not responding to phone calls or texts). Reading back over it has made me think.

The past few days have been hard. One of my close family members is critically ill in hospital and has been since friday - thankfully now she's beginning to improve and we're all hopeful of a good outcome. I've felt stressed at work and haven't been able to keep with the normal routines of climbing and exercise. All of this I feel has triggered some philosphical thinking.

So why do we trust people without reason? Is this a normal aspect of human nature or am I just a fool? I just don't know. I like to trust people, it's just the way I am but sometimes you get let down, it's all part of the game I suppose.