Paint it Black

After 7 years and 8 months I am now the proud owner of my Kung Fu black sash 1st dan. 'Become a black sash in Kung Fu' was on the original bucket list and pre-dates the Purple Book so it was a fantastic, if bitter sweet moment in getting it.

The grading involved our whole club wit heveryone looking to step up to get a new sash and learn new things in 2013. At stake were two purple sashes, a yellow, two browns and of course, two blacks. Me and Kev were both feeling confident despite still being unsure on a couple of areas. Kev was still being troubled by little bits in the sets and for me it was my usual nemesis, the blocks.

For those of you baffled by the ins and outs of Kung Fu, here's the low down. Sashes are earned in gradings from beginner to white, blue, orange, green, yellow, purple, brown then black. Each grading from the blue sash upwards requires you to perform different elements. There are the walking techniques which involve various hand and foot attacks, blocks where one person blocks and counters another's attacks, and the sets, a combination of often intricate movements performed alone. As the gradings get higher, the sets become longer and harder to perform and the techniques require more skill and flexibility. The black sash requires you to perform everything you've ever learnt. This includes around 20 walking techniques, a selection of 20 different blocks, 7 sets, 1 knife defence set, 1 stick defence set and wood breaking.

I forgot how nerve-racking and tiring the gradings get, and this was the big one. Part of the grading included jumping kicks, a favourite of mine but often very hard to do. Trying a jumping spinning kick with the weaker foot is a spectacle I can tell you. It's one of those things you can only let go and just give it all you've got. Despite mishearing the wrong first set, they all went pretty much as clockwork. Kev though was really struggling with the black sash set, Bac Pye Surn or 'fist of the Bac Pye Mountain' for all you non-orientals. All instructions are in chinese when it comes to the moves. From orange sash onwards you no longer perform front kicks, they are 'Tsin Tak'.

The stick defence went easy enough, the knife defence was full on as ever, the fact we were greading for black gave it that extra bit of edge. All seemed well until we were called back up and I knew what was coming next, the blocks. Arm and kick blocks require knowledge of 40 different blocks and attacks and are chosen at random for the black grading. It is this randomness that I find hardest to overcome. Where the sets are a continuous set of predefined movements, the blocks require complete yet partial knowledge. Luck must have been on my side though as I knew 3 out of the 4 I had to perform, messing up just the one. I remember sitting down semi-dejected, hoping for the perfect grading and just coming up short. It didn't matter though, my sets and walking techniques had done the job and me and Kev had passed. Although I was still disappointed with my performance, it was quickly changed when I put the sash on for the first time. I later found out i'd received an A- mark for the grading which i'm pretty chuffed about. One day I might even become a sifu (instructor) myself but until then i'll happily settle for the title Ross Jenkins, Black Sash 1st Dan :).

Rossifer x

Omnibus

A lot of catching up to do. It's Sunday so time for the omnibus...

ROSSIFERTIETH

Day 1 Archery

What do you do when a major birthday milestone looms? I'm guessing most people would hire a big hall, invite loads of people and get drunk. Not my style. To celebrate my 30th year alive I planned it the only way I know how; as varied, fun and random as possible. Although it was my birthday, the real celebration was of the Purple Book and how my life had truly started since its creation.

I had plenty of ideas of activities I wanted to include, weirdly enough I'd already done all of them but I was determined to get others involved to introduce them to my world and hopefully introduce them to something they'd never done before so they could feel as I do every time I try something new. I had a few certs such as archery and rowing and a few maybe's such as jet skiing and paint balling  I wanted everything to be accessible to everyone and didn't 'want the cost to be a factor. After changing my mind several times I eventually came up with 3 days of fun. First up, archery...

Arriving at Maidenhead for the archery was a bit of a shock as we were greeted by a long queue of people and the promise of a 2 hour wait until we would shoot. Eventually we were greeted by cousin Ryan and Uncle Andy, really glad they were able to make it. Life isn't always easy for them so I'm glad they accepted the invite. After ages waiting in really hot weather we eventually got kitted up. Of all the activities this had been the hardest to find. Archery fever has hit the UK after the Olympics and the Hunger Games film. Stupidly I thought booking archery would be as easy as it was in Center Parcs back in the day but this was the only 'show up and have a go' day I could find.
It's been ages since I last fired an arrow but it soon feels natural enough. Archery is something I can easily see myself doing in the future. If I ever settle down into just having a couple of hobbies I'd like archery to be one of them. According to the chappie doing the training I have the perfect build for an archer, long arms with no pesky muscles getting in the way. Either that or he was being a sarccy bugger but I'll accept the former ;) I was partnering up with cousin Ryan while the two oldies where a bit further up together. From Mum's laughter and Dad's cursing I could tell who was winning, every time I looked over Mum was in the Gold and Dad was having to fetch wayward arrows at the end of each pass. Ryan needs some practise but the important thing is he's getting into it. As I've always said, the only thing better than experiencing new things for myself is seeing others do the same, that excitable spark that can only be gained from discovery.

Day 2 - Canoeing

Canoeing on the Thames looked and sounded cool, I love rowing but had never actually done canoeing where you're pretty much jammed into a solid sleeping bag and tasked with trying to go forward in a straight line. No one out side the Jenkins household was up for this one so me and the oldies rolled up to Thames Valley Business park and were in fact the only 3 doing it. The first obstacle was getting me into the boat. Our instructor ended up having to get out her tool kit to dis-assemble everything inside the canoe so I could fit.
Once in the water things started out OK, despite the fact we all had trouble moving forward in a straight line. What with the old man crashing into me and the various show off boats on the Thames making waves I was convinced I'd be doing a barrel roll in no time at all! About a 1/3 of the distance in I hear the sound I'd been dreading, a bloody great splash. I remember thinking 'Oh Goddddd which of them is it?!' I look around and see Dad still in his boat, oblivious to everything else as he was in the zone trying to go forward in a straight line. Blind panic ensued as I rowed back to the old woman who had capsized and managed to swallow half the Thames. Our instructor had got there first and I'd shouted at Dad to track back as well. Despite being in shallow water I could see Mum was well and truly freaking out, it took her ages to realise she could simply stand up on the river bed.
We eventually got Mum up onto the bank where she called it a day. We rowed back to the start towing her boat with us while she walked back on the towpath. We left her to read a book in the car and get as much of the Thames out of her system the same way it went in when we were out of view. We made our way back up the river, eventually going up the kennet at the fork in the river going towards Caversham. Dad had to stop at one point as the task was proving back breaking for the pair of us. With his usual style and grace he flopped out of the boat onto the bank for a breather. Like many of the Purple entries we all suffered for the joy today, it was something I loved doing but will skip in the future. Despite getting a lot more freedom in a canoe rowing is far more relaxing, I'd love to have access to a giant lake and my own boat to row on, can't think of a better Summer activity.

Day 3 - Segway & Go Ape

Not too much to write on this one. This was my fifth time segwaying, Mum's third, Dad's second and Abi's first. It would have been her second if Sean was able to have a go himself back in Segmay, I can't way until he's big enough so I can invite them both back. What to say? The weather was perfect, the path section was great, the offroad bit even better and we all loved it. Dad bailed trying to do a sneaky shortcut on the hard course and that downhill section of the hard course was awesome as ever. Riding a Segway is like riding a bike, stupidly tricky the first time you do it then ridiculously easy every other time. If I was to wait 20 years to have another go I'd still pick it up in seconds. If I had a spare couple of grand I'd have one of my own along with the bragging rights of the coolest way of getting to work each day :)

Go Ape was the joint highlight of the 3 days of fun along with the Archery. It's one of those things I know puts a lot of people off because of the rope ladders bit which is a shame as the zip wire bit is the bit everyone wants to try. After the briefing I dragged Abi to the front with the usual tactics, get to the training section first! Unless you are patience personified you really want to be the first of the group to go, especially if there are kids in the group as they have to be supervised on all sections of the course.

Happily I was up all the rope ladders like a rat up a drain pipe. I usually can't stand them but a good talking to goes a long way. We had what looked like the cast of The only way is Essex behind us, all oranged up wearing whatever is on the pages of Front and OK this week. I must be getting old when I look at spacer earrings on blokes and want to give them a good slapping for their stupidity. Damn it I'm 30 now, give it 10 more years and I'll probably start writing letters of complaint and needing reading glasses...
After getting through all the usual sections we come to a new bit, the final section is now split into two so two people can swing into the cargo net at the same time, a fantastic idea. This is also the section blokes dread though, the drop before the swing is no less forgiving on the gentleman region. After the final zip wire section it is the end of the 3 days of fun but the start of a brand new adventure...

Pennine Way

This part of my Rossifertieth had been planned a while back and although it had nothing really to do with my birthday it was a cool way of extending my celebrations. It started with drunk chatter around the fire down in Brighton where me and Abz promised ourselves a holiday together away from the Prawn, work and civilisation. The Pennine Way stretches 268 miles along the backbone of England from Edale in Derbyshire to Kirk Yetholm just inside the Scottish border and is one of the most famous walks you could hope to do in Britain. Our aim was to do a small chunk of the route, Edale to Stanedge. Despite the fact we would be taking all our stuff with our via 2 beasts, we were walking in August so thought the weather would be kind to us. I was actually  concerned about getting too hot on the journey. I wouldn't have to worry...
The same curse that seems to afflict the two oldies on their holidays seems to be following me and Abz. Camping in Brighton had brought with it the worst winds I'd ever been out in and the Pennines would bring their own forms of trouble.
After camping overnight in Edale we started on the walk itself, going past the Old Nags Head, the official start of the Pennine Way. We'd be seeing a lot more of this place even though we didn't realise it yet...

Despite being as unprepared as usual I felt confident walking with Abz who, as a Mum, was infinitely more organised than I was. We had no OS map and I had no waterproofs but of course didn't think this would be a problem, this being the Summer after all. Half an hour into the walk it started to drizzle. I quickly started to get wet from head to ankle, luckily my feet were keeping dry thanks to my posh new hiking boots I'd got for my birthday. Every trip like this I become more adept to my surroundings and it seems i'm starting from the ground up, put simply I love my birthday boots x

After 90 minutes or so we reached Jacob's ladder, a relentlessly steep ascent of man made stone steps which is no laughing matter when you're tired, soaking wet and carrying a beast on your back. Once we'd reached the top we were both feeling pretty knackered. Abz's boots were getting wet at this point and I was starting to lose the feeling in my hands as they were getting soaked. We'd been passed by a chappie on his gap year before joining the army and he was already long gone. He was planning to walk the whole route before fighting for queen and country and I have no doubts he managed to do it within breaking a sweat.

After another couple of hours we came across a giant peat bog. The weather had   well and truly set in with a dense fog shielding the way forward. We'd been following the traditional cairns up to this point, piles of rocks and stones used to guide travellers. I spent most of the journey wandering why a nice sign post with an arrow wouldn't have been better and even more so once we'd trekked across a stream and got ourselves lost at the bog. With no visibility or idea on where to go next things weren't looking great. Would we have to try and camp out here? Abz's phone wasn't working as phone reception was a no go in the whole region. We tried to escape the region with Abz falling into one of the bog's and damn near getting stuck. We eventually across a lifeline, a local walking his dog with a fancy GPS gizmo and OS map. I secretly hated him for having one of those smug 'Ha ha look at these amateurs getting lost' attitudes, especially as I was now in a bit of trouble thanks to my lack of water proofs and now completely numb fingers but was grateful to see someone else. We found out we were now wayyyy off the Pennine Way. Priority now though was reaching civilisation. He directed us to the nearest village which ended up being Hayfield. After what seemed like an eternity we started to see early signs of anything other than complete wilderness. Gates, an abandoned factory and A ROAD! As well as my fingers being screwed my feet were now starting to get wet, my boots had eventually given in to the elements. We came up to a house and asked the friendly owner for the nearest pub, it was a few minutes down the road she said. After a few minutes and a bit more I saw the most beautiful view of the day, the Sportsman Inn. This was to become a close third to Find the Bridge parts one and two when I damn near burst into tears upon the sight of the pub and hotel after being so knackered, I was so relieved to find this place. It was warm, dry and cosy. I stripped off to my first layer and had my boots and socks off as well and flip flops on.
After 5 minutes of just sitting and breathing without the beast on I ordered 2 pots of tea, 2 plates of food and then asked Abz what she wanted. Only after a certain amount of hell do you truly appreciate the small things in life such as tea and chilli con carne. After a while I had a look at a map they had on the wall of the pub. Only then did we realise just how far we'd strayed off course. We had been walking for over 9 hours, clocking up who knows how many miles and we'd screwed up, big time. I'm still claiming to have someone or something watching my back ever since that evening at Pavlov's Dog but in all seriousness we could have been in real trouble out on the bog. Instead of the straight line from Edale to the youth hostel at Crowden we'd done a dog leg and ended up in Hayfield. We had to decide what to do next. Miles away from Crowden, with pre-paid tickets from Manchester to home we had to decide whether to go to the next nearest train station at Glossop or cut our losses and go back to Edale. We decided on the latter, and after a second lot of grub were taken back to Edale by the local friendly taxi driver. Say what you like about northerners I've never met friendlier people on this earth. Abz was chatting to him the whole journey, I chipped in now and again but was too knackered for anything more.

We eventually got back to Edale where we'd started. Our original campsite was fully booked (despite only looking half full) which ended up in our favour as we went up the road to the second camp site. This one was run by a husband and wife team, the woman in the cottage ribbed me for carrying what was the lightest of both beasts though this was only due to Abi's stuff being saturated with rain. The site had a small shop run by the husband and a cafe by either their daughters or other local girls, a truly homely place I'd love to visit again. The shop had a cash point plus waterproofs, and giant socks which I will never be without again. Each adventure teaches me something new and I will never leave home ready for a soaking again.

The campsite was also home to a camper van and sold camper van mugs which meant I loved it even more. We spent the next day chilling in the area trying to dry all our clothes and equipment out. We went to the Nags Head a couple of times as well as the visitor centre at the old camp site. As well as Internet access it had a gift shop so Abz could get the little dude something for the occasion. After spending the evening in the other pub in Edale we woke up the next morning and made out way to Manchester, via train and not on foot as we had planned.

The rest of the day was spent soaking up time til home time. The Paralympics were on so amongst other things, we stopped to watch some footage at the seating area that had been set up in the city, a great idea. There was a sign saying all bags would be searched on the way in but the bloke on the gate took one look at our beasts and thought he wouldn't bother. Two knackered travellers with bloody big bags to search just wasn't worth the effort. I was planning on taking Abz to my new favourite eatery in Reading eventually and luckily Manchester is home to two Tampopo's. Despite having to lug all my stuff around I came out with a bottle of the lush chilli sauce they have with the prawn crackers, one of the many reasons I keep eating there. We spent the next couple of hours exploring Manchester. We were in the Man City section of the city, football obviously dominates here with a clear divide on who supports who. The city has some great quirky shops including a funky looking sculpture on top of one of the roofs. If it wasn't for both of our shoulders nearly giving up[ on us we would have spent more time exploring but decided to make our way to the train station. The next couple of hours were spent up on the first floor people watching with the beasts of our back, playing cards and reading until our trains flashed up on the time board. Eventually the time came and we said our goodbyes, I was on the train to Reading and Abz was London bound. Once again this adventure had it's fair share of ups and downs, the downs just adding to the whole experience. After a few weeks the feeling eventually returned to all of my fingers after the 9 hour deluge out on the Pennine Way. The lessons learnt would help me no end in further ventures, including the one found a stone's throw from 'Find the Bridge Part one'...

Open Mic and Scafell Pike

The first part of this has little to do with me but still merits an entry into the book as it was performed by a good mate who is as delightfully random as the book itself. Jason managed to start his road towards the Open Mic championships whilst shopping in town. They were hosting a 'Reading's got Talent' where he went up and sang everyone a song. This led to a quarter, a semi and a final round which ultimately led to his inclusion in the night in question. Open Mic UK is a chance for unsigned talent to put themselves in front of people from 'the industry' who can open doors to stardom should you impress them. He was up against 11 other singers from a very eclectic mix of genres. After getting to the venue early and trying to shelter from the bad weather outside Jason rocked up, full of confidence. A few minutes later the supporters were allowed in. Before Jason's turn we had SCARLETINAAAA, an angry sounding sister rapping about splitting up from her fella, a white bloke trying to rap (rarely a good thing) a Lithuanian with a fantastic basque but average voice, a few singer song writers and a few more singers. Then it was Jason's go, singing 'drugs don't work'. If I'd been wearing a hat i'd have taken it off in respect, anyone who can stand up on stage and sing has balls of steel. He ended up missing out on the judges and audience vote but it didn't seem to matter, it was now time to party.
The photo to the left is all you're getting for this one. Let's just say it's the most extreme night out I've ever been on and what happened will stay on the night out. This is one entry I'm happy to enjoy without divulging to the masses...

No rest for the wicked, that phrase held new meaning the morning after the night before. After the night's frivolity I had just over an hour to get myself home, pack my stuff and get to the station to get to Lancaster. The two trains would take around 4 1/2 hours to get me up north to this reassuringly unchanged beauty of a place. All the buildings look as if they'll outlast time itself. I can imagine the interiors being as warm as toast to protect from the often biting cold and unforgiving rain that can only come this far up north in England.
After meeting up with Pyro at the station we waited for Dawson and Big Bren to join us. We had all the camping gear in one car along with the 4 of us which meant trying to fold myself around everything. After getting to the holiday home they'd been using for the week we split into two cars, I ended up with Big Bren and Jessie the dog. Always wondered why I love cats over dogs, I was about to find out why. On the 2+ hour journey to Wasdale Jessie spent just under 2 hours of it bouncing back and forth on the back seat every time she wanted food, drink or the toilet. Weirdly enough though this wasn't unexpected. My 3 travellers were all at one point part of the Science crew at work, a department known for their often baffling behaviour so none of this, or the events to come would come as a shock.
The Wasdale site is National Trust run, I'm still in two minds about an organisation that is stoic in it's revitalisation of various parts of Britain but at the same time banning wild camping. The sight of the National Trust signs filled me with dread during 'Find the Bridge part 1'. Our mission here was to climb England's highest peak, Scafell Pike. I'd come close before but knew this time I'd be guaranteed a summit, what with camping right at it's base. Little did I know I'd be climbing it twice in one week...

As bad weather was forecast on the Wednesday we ended up scaling it on Tuesday. I say 'we', the two elder statesmen ended back at base camp after 20 minutes after Big Bren complained of chest pains. Me and Pyro made our way up, following the cairns and going up the 'fun route', a scramble up a loose rock slope and climbing up a rocky section. Loved that bit! After spending the next day in Windermere, joined by Nicole, Dawson told us he was determined to make it to the summit. So on the Thursday, with Big Bren now on her way home with Pyro's lovely lady (and Jessie), the 3 of us went up and had another go. This time we saw snow capped peaks from the camp site. It had been snowing in the hills over night, we'd had the temperatures but now the white stuff so it was great to see the first snow of the year. The climb up on the Thursday seemed much easier. This time we knew exactly where we were going and the snow actually made it easier going up. Any precarious rocks or gaps were now covered in a thick layer of snow to protect us. Weirdly enough though, Dawson was accusing me and Pyro of showing off by racing ahead then waiting for him to catch up. Despite doing this to make sure he wasn't left alone, he still insisted we were taking the Mick. After much sulking and cursing we managed to get him to the top. While we were having a second picture taken though Dawson decided to make his own way back down. Despite being a chain smoking bloke devoid of any fitness we had no sight of him with only a 10 minute head start. With every minute we descended we wondered where the hell he'd gone to. We went down the easier route, not via the scramble which it seemed he was taking, not the best route out in the snow on your own. About 30 minutes from the bottom we eventually caught glimpse of him. He'd calmed down a bit but was still calling us show offs.


This argument would last until the one pub in Wasdale and then until 1 in the morning. It wasn't enough to have Pyro and Dawson gleefully effing and blinding amongst themselves in the pub without doing it again at the campsite. We were in danger of getting thrown out of both, Dawson was already getting weird looks throughout the week without all this. I'm pretty sure they don't get many black, homosexual South Africans up north so he wasn't doing himself any favours if he wanted to stay inconspicuous. Like I said earlier, camping up north, during autumn, with the science crew, none of this seemed weird in the least...

Another great little adventure with plenty of great memories and little details. Driving back from Windermere all kind of lost. Going down the narrow country lane and coming across the flood. Big Bren cursing and Jessie going mental in the car. The solitary pub in Wasdale with the huge INN written in black ink on the side. The 'village green' being no bigger than my front garden. Going without sleep for over 40 hours after that night out. Climbing 'Scafell Masiff' twice and this time getting my kit perfect, not a drop got through. Fingers crossed in the Summer next year I'll be on my way to the big one, Ben Nevis, the final of the 3 peaks. Whether it's with the Science crew, the two oldies or just me, I know the events will end up on this page with a similarly looking windswept photo of yours truly.

Rossifer x

Spartan Race

July 22nd, a date with all manner of asterisks and arrows pointing towards it as it had every possibility of being the highlight of the year so far, it didn't disappoint. In my latest tradition of finding new and insane assault course type challenges to do this promised to be the most challenging yet. I was gutted in the fact that the Warrior Dash had been cancelled in June, an American activity with one UK venue with the plug being pulled at the last minute. The 'Spartan Race' was to be set in the same venue as the Dash in Redhill, Surrey.

Rather unwisely I had put off any sort of training for the event until I realised any good intentions were completely out the window, I'd just show up on the day and see what happened. It turned out I'd be having a fair bit of a warm up though just to get to the venue. I'd made sure I'd checked all the train times the night before but was pretty peeved when I got to Tilehurst station to find my train wouldn't be showing up. A quick jog around the corner also saw the only bus for 1/2 hour go whizzing past which meant the strong chance of getting to the venue an hour later than planned. There was still a possibility of catching my Reading train so I jogged home to get the car. Thanks to the law of sod I was stuck behind a Sunday driver for most of the journey, slowly seeing my time to my train leaving dwindle. Where to park to get the best chance of making the train? After losing the caravan club member I whizzed into the short stay car park at the station for the second warm up jog of the day. Ticket to Redhill, which platform, WHICH PLATFORM?! Gatwick, train, same platform to get to Abz's, all the ticket gates were open so through and around the corner I sped. Saw the train, checked with the dude with the flag it was the right one and got on just in time, pulled away 10 seconds later. I sat, covered in sweat and laughing at saving myself an hour's wait for the next train.

Time on the train to cool off, 11 stops to get to Redhill. I was sat next to a blind woman with her son. How anyone can live with such a disability has always amazed me, but with a young son it must require a hell of a lot of trust from both parties. The little bugger put this trust on the back burner for a moment as he kept hiding his toys when his mum was trying to pack them away. Close to Redhill we came to Dorking Deepdene, everyone's eyes where fixed at the top of the hill over in the distance where the Olympic rings stood proudly at the top, a reminder of what we were all about to look forward to the following week.

Arrived at Redhill with plenty of time to get to the venue. Despite a slightly dodgy map and even dodgier map reading skills, A gorgeous spartan girl and a big queue of cars was the key i'd found the right place. I had over an hour until my 12:30 start time so made my way to the registration bit. Unlike the other races where you have race numbers to pin on, this one required you to write your number on your forehead, anywhere else that was visible and any additional smiley faces or body art you wanted to add. I remember looking around and seeing a lot of seriously buff men and women, most of which were head to toe in mud. Started to get slightly panicky, I'd winged all the other assault courses, this one looked as if it had the potential to break me. The one at Battersea had the odd 6 pack show off in attendance but was mainly Joe Public. This one really looked as if the Spartans were back, and even they were looking shell shocked after their experience.

After a second visit to the joy that is the porta loo it was almost time to start. Despite my Gandhi-esque figure I'd decided to strip off myself. Word was you want to wear as little as possible. I wandered over to the finish to see one of the obstacles, it looked like an ice bath with barbed wire over it, on closer inspection the wire didn't look as vicious so didn't seem to worried. That changed after hearing a fair bit of cursing from those going through it. Yep, the wire had a rather nasty electric current going through it, touch it and chances are you'd be swearing like a sailor. One of the girls going for it needed all the support of her mates to have a second crack at it after being shocked in the head. I began to see why we'd needed to sign a death waiver at the start!

Once the 12:00 wave had started it was my group's turn. Knowing I was no where near fit enough for the race I wanted to be near the front so I wasn't left behind. After a chin wag with those around we were greeted by 2 army instructors (Probably the sadists who designed the course) and a guy dressed as a Spartan holding a megaphone. The army guys warmed us up and the Dude in the skirt with the shield fired us up. The call was "AROO" for all the Spartans among us who would be expected to give everything out on the course. All theatre of course but this would feel more genuine the further through the course we got. The Spartan's sword fell and off we went. I'd overheard the first 1 1/2 miles were the hardest jogging part of the course, they weren't kidding. Uphill and downhill all the way, not a snip of flat even ground. Looking around, the consensus seemed to be the same. if we're finding THIS hard then what can we expect later on?

After the many ups and downs the jogging became much less of an issue, the obstacles were starting to come thick and fast. The final up and down made way for the jog through the woods and the first of many trails. A quick abseil down the muddy slope and a quick jaunt led, for me at least, the trickiest and most hated obstacle. A crawl under barbed wire and over mud. A few comments from behind about getting snagged and catching Tetanus made dam sure I wasn't going to get cut by the wire. After the energy sapping crawl over solid ground it got down and nasty with big pools of mud. I'd had to jump ankle deep in the stuff before in Henley during the night run but this time I was up to my shoulders in the bloody stuff. After crawling out of one of the pits it was straight into another, deeper one. I wish I'd pushed the smug looking official into the stuff after he gave me a knowing look as to what was still to come!

I can't remember the order of all the obstacles as they seemed to come quick and fast, here's what we all faced though: -

Climbing ropes, pulling a weight up one, rolling a stick with a rope and weight attached and lowering it again. Climbing an A frame, climbing various walls, carrying sand bags, carrying tyres, balance beams, throwing a spear, under a cargo net, crawling through a narrow muddy tunnel, more ropes and balance beams, jumping over fire and dodging Spartan gladiators.

Despite hating the mud obstacle under the barbed wire it actually galvernised me for the rest of the race. Before that point I still felt seriously unfit and weedy but after that I felt so used and abused I remembered how fired up it got me once i'd done it. In a way I was so pi$$ed off by the experience I was determined to let nothing beat me in my quest to finish, not even a pulled muscle in both thighs. On the largest of the wall climbs I felt pretty confident with my height and weight advantage but was soon brought down to earth. I put my foot on the side about to launch myself up and felt my leg go. The gut at the wall brought a medic over, I managed to get up on the 3rd attempt and it felt OK after a while. He had a quick fidget with my apparently knotted muscles (who knew?) and off I went, over the wall and onto the tyre lift. Eventually I came around a corner and saw on obstacle which looked familiar as I'd seen it before the race, I'd almost finished! This meant I was close to the dreaded electrified ice pit. After skipping through some tyres I came up to the edge of the pit and quickly planned a route through. Some guys behind were bundling through like imbeciles and getting the odd shock or three, I was determined I'd be getting through jolt free. Being skinny was coming to my aid again as I stayed low and snuck under. At the end I pulled myself through, quite happy as the ice had managed to clean off a lot of the mud still clinging to me. That soon changed with the very next obstacle, the crawl through the tunnel. A long and low slog which I know where the cause of my delightful war wounds on my body at the finish. After reaching the end it was onto the Gladiators, nice enough blokes dressed as Spartans giving everyone a token whack with whatever those pole things are called. One final obstacle which I took great pleasure in nailing despite a little reminder from my final muscles. The sloped bit with the rope had troubled many people but I was fired up and nothing was going to stop me whizzing over. Around the corner to another gorgeous looking Spartan girl armed with finishers medals.



I felt amazing, not quite as pumped as Battersea and no where near as knackered as Llanwrtyd Wells but seriously fired up at completing something so delightfully mental. The Spartan Race, despite being half the distance of the Survival of the Fittest and the Night Run, was way more extreme than the pair off them. In those two the obstacles came more of a break from the jogging which I always found hard but this time they proved a real challenge, especially if any mistakes were made. If you failed in any activity you had the pleasure of either 30 press ups or, even worse, 30 standing burpees. For the unknowing a standing burpee is going into a push up position, doing one then standing up again, I ended up doing 90 of these works of Satan. I think 3/4 of the course had to do at least 30 as I'd like to see anyone conquering 3 narrow balance beams going uphill covered in slippery mud. My other 60 came from a failed rope climb and an ability to throw a spear. The perils of pacifism I guess.


At the end of the race, everyone who was everyone ended up in the lake. There was a guy armed with a hose but it was much more fun going for a swim in the lake to wash off all the mud. After the final challenge of everyone getting out of the lake without getting caked in mud again it was time to go home. I'd come away  feeling ever so slightly broken with a couple of great looking bruises on my chest, another great looking medal and best of all more fantastic memories to come away with. The Spartan Race had well and truly done it's job, another page of the PB turned, bring on the next chapter.


Rossifer x 

Llama Trekking & Comic Con

A fantastic weekend, the start of what I hope will be one of the best summers so far. Despite a drip feed of purple goodness so far this year, including the delightful Notorious Night Run, it was to be this weekend which really started the ball rolling.
Proof that good things often come along like buses, I'd had 4 invitations this weekend and would have to miss a lot of goodness as well as experiencing a more than healthy dose of it. A hot day, late exam finish and drinkies for Woodstock, meant no basketball this week, a visit to Abi meant the drinkies didn't last as long as they could as the prospect of camping and trekking with llamas meant only the one night in Croydon.
Drinks at Prospect's local, the Mansion House, were in honour of 'Woodstock', our very own lovable hippie and free spirit who left us on Friday for bigger and better things. The sun brought out the usual beautiful people from the shadows, none more so than the one carved from marble and jet whose eyes are simply out of this world. After leaving the Prospect faithful it was time to dart off home to grab the beast before rushing to get the train to East Croydon. I forgot how awkward it was to carry, wearing it again brought back all the memories of trying to find the bridge first time around, this time I was armed with a wii and two guitar's as my camping gear would be joining me tomorrow.

After whooping Abz and the little dude at Guitar Hero it was off to Comic con the next day. As usual with most things purple I had no idea what I was letting myself in  for until I got off the train with the others and was greeted by several anime looking girls and a guy holding a huge plastic sword. Right then I knew I was in nerd heaven. The closer the three of us got to the Excel centre, the more outlandish costumes we saw. At one point i'd seen 7 Link's, 3 Rikku's, a Paine, 2 Jack Sparrows and several characters I had to ask Sean about. I'm not bad on spotting Square characters but anything Marvel or remotely comicesque and more vague than Superman and Wolverine is beyond me, nowhere near nerdy enough. Best outfit for me had to go as the girl dressed as Paine from FFX-II, i'd have got her picture if my camera didn't take half an hour to switch on.

I thought the whole place would have various zones for each thing e.g. Marvel, Capcom, DC... but basically it's just one big market. It's full of stores ranging from people drawing Anime and Manga pictures, figurines, steam punk, basically anything kids and the WoW loving fraternity would love to get their hands on. Time came and went and I had to be on my way. After goodbyes with my beloved hosts it was onto Guildford to meet up with the old one and then down the road into Hambledon.





The Merry Harriers, home to quite simply the friendliest bar staff you'll ever meet, some cracking local food,  live music, camping, Asterix books, live coverage of our boys beating the Norwegians at footie, a cat called Steve and of course Llamas. Just driving up to the place I knew the weekend would be ending as well as it had started. Any place that has it's own mog that happily sits at your feet while you're eating, random south american large mammals parked out back and 4 story edition of Asterix has earned my love and respect. Sat in the TV room with proper football loving blokes with pints of beer I was now the comic con nerd. Not hard to look out of place in a country pub reading Asterix, wearing a peace symbol and Steam Punk goggles. The match was followed by the live music and a zoology lesson from one of the locals. In the gents there was the biggest flying thing i'd ever seen. Apparently it was a 'May Bug' and legend has it if it gets caught in your hair it is an absolute bastard to get out. This thing was 3 times the size of any queen bee i'd ever seen so after awkwardly and hastily having a pee, I was off!

Camping with the old one meant all the odd cons. Brekkie on the bench and a brew on the gas stove. Despite arriving the evening before we still hadn't seen the llamas yet and didn't know quite what we'd be doing. Late morning we went around back and caught our first glimpse. It seemed a bit of a Mexican stand-ff with both parties not quite sure what to do next when faced with each other. I tried rubbing the noses of one of them which didn't go down too well, I always think if in doubt, use cat logic for animals as cat's like any area around their head rubbed. Word to the wise, if you're ever near one, avoid the cat logic. Remembered thinking I hope the llama that damn near spat at me wasn't my one...
After the intros we went into the field and were paired up with our llamas. The 9 starts of the show were Louie, Napoleon, Sariah, Running Cloud, Goji, Fidel, Mungo, Omar and our tall spotty beast, Pandhu. Everyone started off a bit weary, especially a quirky looking goth girl with blue hair and her mate. The first hour or so you felt as if you were being dragged along by your new furry friend. Apparently they eat for 17 hours a day and stopped every few seconds or so for a munch of anything green before moving on.

You soon learn that these are some seriously strong beasts you're working with and as well as a bit of coaxing it's brute strength that's needed to get them shifting where you want to go. A few of them were saddled up with lunch for the day and a thing full of water. A pretty hot day but nothing they couldn't handle being an animal of the Andes, hope I get to see some next year in Peru.

Usually with these posts there's a 'the whole thing was great despite this or that happening', no such comments here. The whole thing was great, fullstop. If you ever see an advert for llama trekking then give it a go you'll love it. You're only likely to get gobbed on if you act like a dick or are in the wrong place at the wrong time when one of them is gobbing it's dinner at it's mate.

Good luck to Woodstock at JMA and big thanks to all the stars of this weekend, especially Abz and Sean, the old one for buying me the trek as a pressie, Julie for doing the trek and of course my beautiful boy Pandhu. Aint he gorg!

Rossifer x

Jog on

Just a quickie, a repeat entry for the Book with the only difference this time being my reason for running it. I had no Marathon to train for, sponsorship to collect or bonus gained from trying a new thing, this was all about crossing the line with the old one. 2 years ago I'd hoped to have done so anyway but had wanted to show an honest account of what time I could achieve. Despite being the fittest I've ever been this year it was all about crossing the line with Dad and helping him beat his old time. Every time we passed a noisy cheering crowd, someone we knew or a band playing I made him jog.

We were both kitted up looking like we knew what we were doing with tech tops, specialist socks and running shoes. Along the way we tallied up everyone of the supporters we knew along the way, I eventually won that 11-8 with the Prospect crew doing me proud. Despite the whinging in how much jogging I was asking him to do I managed to get Dad to beat his old time with 2 hours 44 on the clock, 5 minutes faster than 2 years ago. I also maanged this without anyone swearing at me for walking faster than they were jogging, like before! A big thanks to everyone who clapped us on route and the bands and people with stereo's on, only another jogger can tell you how much it helps. A great day but proof that we'll both be needing to put the hours in if we're going to conquer the 3 peaks in August and, if we're lucky, the big one in London next year. Judging by the state of many of the runners we saw though, and stories of those close to us who have trained and fallen, we'll have to find something that's not going to leave us both crippled whilst doing it. Only 8 hours after the race and I'm already counting the days til the next one. A quiet April in preparation for an epic May. Bring it :)

Rossifer x

Notorious Night Run

A week on from Thorpe Park came a new challenge, one I'd been salivating over since I'd booked it due to just how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. A 10km run, at night, wearing a head torch, over a cross country horse racing course with bonus points awarded for dressing as a jockey or a horse. £40 has never left my account so easily!

The 'HorsePlay' Notorious Night Run was the final of 4 equally baffling events spread out over the UK from the 'Mighty Deerstalker' in Peeblesshire over the Scottish Border down to Hambleden Estate in Henley where I was. Although just down the road, Henley feels a world away from Reading. All the blokes were tweed, all the woman seem to have pony tails and are called Harriet and the only other language spoken would be latin.

Rat Race, the company behind the event, are quickly becoming my best friends in giving me plenty of Purple ideas including one this August which i'm getting very excited about... The Horseplay event was split in two, a 5km jaunt for those who wanted a mini challenge and the full 10km for those after a double challenge. Not only would the double distance be an issue, the race is purposely started just before sun down so poor visibility was guaranteed.

At the start the announcer and wonderfully enthusiastic organiser of the event eventually got us lined up at the start just after 6:00pm. A final check that the timing chip was tied on your shoes, head torches were all switched on and that you weren't standing in front of anyone potentially quicker than you were at the start. Off we went, the athletes darted off ahead to avoid the log jam at the first obstacle, a whacking great log designed for a thoroughbred to jump over, instead bearing the brunt of 500 fun runners. This was quickly followed by the first water jump and then into the woods. Over another jump, across the field again and over more jumps, the terrain started getting trickier and steeper and everything started getting darker, the head torches were about to become essential.

The rest of the course was no doubt designed by a sadist. Forgetting the 10km distance, the course planner is, i'm sure, a hill loving midget as most of the run from then on in was up, down or traversing a whacking great hill which could rival Coopers Hill in Leicestershire for it's steepness. The woods offered many obstacles including low branches, hidden roots and the odd log thrown in for good measure, everyone present must have had a close shave or near injury on route. The course managed to bring the best out of all present as everyone seemed to be watching each others back. Whoever was running point could warn the others of what was coming and the light from whoever was behind you helped to avoid all the potential ankle breakers.

Close to the end the obstacles came thick and fast. The mud section won't go down as most people's favourites, nor the huge log jumps which even I had a problem getting over. After getting thoroughly soaked ducking under an obstacle in a pond we were on the final stretch for home. We could hear the MC, see the lights and here the crowds which really spurred you on. After a final water jump there was a cargo net to crawl under (not easy in the dark with a head torch on) and a final big jump onto a raised platform before a sprint finish over the line. Coming round the final bend I actually felt slightly disappointed it was coming to an end. Far from feeling knackered and fed up and counting the steps to the finish I couldn't help feeling I was starting to catch the bug for this sort of thing. A few years ago jogging was my idea of hell. It still is in a way, but throw in some mud, a few people dressed in tweed and the idea of doing it all at night, and you'll have trouble stopping me wanting to do it. In the finishing tent I got my bottle of water, big Mars bar and another beautiful looking medal. At this rate my trophy cabinet is going to be bigger than the old man's ;)

The evening was far from over. Once the last people had staggered over the line it was time for the prize giving and the entertainment. I was slightly taken aback by a woman who told me she wasn't over the moon about her performance who a few minutes later ended up winning the award for 3rd fastest female (or filly) on the day. The overall winner was a chappie with a very Henley-esque sounding name who nailed the course in 47 minutes, making my 1 hour 31 minutes look pedestrian. Out of 500 runners I was 242nd, a more competitive mind like the woman I spoke to in 3rd place would have seen me higher up the ranks but, as always, mine is a mind of Purple whose unadulterated joy came from simply being there and feeling the way I always do when experiencing something new.

The prize giving was followed by the excellent live band, Black Dog, a spandex, mascara and tweed wearing group who did an excellent couple of sets ranging from Hendrix to Phil Collins to the theme tune from Dirty Dancing. Any thoughts of sleep after that went out the window. I'd already decided to camp overnight before hand and had already pitched the tent before the race. Couldn't help finding it funny being the tallest bloke there yet having the smallest tent, even without a blow-up mattress there's no room to swing a locust once I'm in it, whoever called it a '2 person tent' must have meant 2 jockeys. The next 5 hours were spent dressed in 4 layers in plus the sleeping bag trying to get warm and get any kind of sleep with some drunken X Factor hopefuls on my left and some cockney blokes to the right of me who spent the whole evening telling most people exactly what they thought of them, including (weirdly enough) the 'boring old c*** asleep next to us'. Asleep? Chance would be a fine thing. Any less of the old you cheeky git! It was the one time I welcomed the clocks going forward. This had obviously not been the highlight of the day but in the end just added to the whole thing. Another fantastically memorable entry in the book, roll on the next one :)

Rossifer x

High Rollers

The slow start to this year well and truly ended today. This entry to the book brought with it many raised eyebrows - 'Ride on a roller-coaster'. In the years before the Purple Book i'd not only missed out on the things people wouldn't consider doing themselves, I'd also missed the ones everyone had already tried many times before. Upon hearing this my mate Kristof decided the way to break this duck was to visit the best place in Britain to get this done - Thorpe Park.

Travelling with a seasoned veteran, as always with all things Purple, I was more than looking forward to what was coming up. As with a couple of things in the book I didn't realise what I was getting myself into until I was right in the middle of it. If I'd reached terminal velocity on a skydive, what difference would a roller-coaster make?

Despite us visiting in the first week back into 2012 the crowds were no where near as big as I thought. After the up close and personal search for anything dodgy it was onto the first ride. "We'll go on something nice and easy to start off with" said Kris, slightly disappointed as i'd promised my first ride to be the most extreme but happy to go along. 'Nice and Easy' he said. 10 seconds into the 'Vortex' ride and I'm freaking out. If this is the hors d'oevres then what is the main course going to be like? Next stop Samurai, a personal favourite of Miss B at Prospect. Fearing the worst I had this weird feeling halfway through which felt strongly like 'enjoyment'! The last ride had messed me up and this ride was doign the same, but in a good way. Although slightly wobbly it was no time to hang around, time to get to the ride I wanted to do most of all - Stealth. This was the ride most people told me was the scariest they'd ever been on and ended up being the first actual roller-coaster i'd been on as the others were spinning things so didn't count. Kris went through the details; 0 - 80mph in less than 2 seconds. He didn't need to mention the huge curve up in the air bit, i'd already cursed a bit at the sight of it earlier...

You can't really prepare yourself for a ride like Stealth. To say it goes quick is like saying the guy off of Man vs Food has a decent appetite. I can honestly say I hated every second! The SPEED of that thing is off the chain, the bit that goes up and then quickly down felt like it had dislodged several vital organs and I couldn't stop shaking for 15 mins after. I'd went to X No Way Out after that (pretty lame in my opinion) and was still shaking from Stealth.

Everything felt better after that, no idea if I was just getting used to everything but I was genuinely loving every minute. The queue jumper tickets and luck with the queues brought along Saw, Nemesis Inferno and Colossus. Saw is themed on the Saw film series, the power of suggestion was a big plus as you couldn't help but remember shocking parts of the films while you were queuing. The famous Jigsaw puppet at the start warning you of what was to come and THAT bit when you go straight up before shooting down under the saw blades. Nemesis Inferno is my joint favourite, for some reason it was the one ride I loved every second off, my kind of scary whatever that means. Colossus had the 10 twists on it and seemed to get the biggest reaction from me at the end, apparently I swore more on that ride than any of the others...

A break for lunch before a first for me and Kris, the new Swarm ride. Themed on a national disaster, the ride was brand new and the first winged ride in Britain. This was the first time I could sense Kristof was feeling the same way I'd been all day, genuine excitement and anticipation at trying something new. From the outside Swarm looked brilliant. Live band playing, crashed aeroplane with the added bonus of actual planes flying over from Gatwick and a creepy guy dressed as a priest covered in scars. This was the only ride which had a Maximum height limit as well as a minimum. I was just over the height, half praying someone would stop me going and the other half secretly hoping i'd be allowed on. Past the first height guide OK, this would be the longest queue all day but still nowhere near as bad as I was dreading. The time was broken up by the odd group of kids bewildered by how tall I was and the sounds of those already on the ride. Eventually at the start of the queue I knew I'd be allowed to ride it. Kris at this point was at full tilt raring to go, he'd taken every other ride in his stride but had no idea what this ride had in store. Despite having my eyes closed for most of it, the bits I saw through my fingers were delightfully brutal. Several near misses, inverted angles at speed and my sort of scary (again whatever that means).

The day could only be rounded off by a good soaking. My wingman was dreading the Tidal Wave more than any other ride as it involved getting properly wet. No spinning around or gimmicks on this one, just a quick plunge into a huge pool of water, nothing was spared. The two drowned rats eventually made it back to the lockers and thankfully something new to wear. I'd crossed another biggie off the Purple Book, Ride a roller-coaster. Like so many entries there were moments of extreme pleasure mixed in with genuine dread at being there. As usual though it had been another epic Purple day out which I wouldn't swap for anything.

Rossifer x

Fav in order: -

1. Nemesis Inferno

2. Swarm

3. Saw

4. Colossus

5. Tidal Wave

6. Samurai

7. Stealth

8. Vortex

9. X No Way Out