Mansfield born and bred. They’re not wrong.

By Sherwood, do you mean you’re staying out Edwinstowe way? Pleasant enough little place, Forest Lodge is fine if not memorable unless its gone downhill. My parents live in Ollerton now (not much to recommend there either, but the Italian in the old village, Bella Vita, is nice enough and that bit of the village is quite nice. New Ollerton isn’t.)
Down the road in Wellow, both pubs, the Red Lion and the Maypole, have a decent reputation locally these days but I haven’t eaten in either for years so can’t confirm. On the way there, The Ollerton House is my folks’ local. Lovely people, but basic food, though the carvery on a Sunday is excellent value in a function-type room at the back.

My folks tend to head further east or north for nice pub lunches: Dovecote at Laxton has always been decent. The village is interesting with motte and bailey and still using the ancient traditional open field system.

Probably out of obvious range, but had a great lunch with my parents at The Apron Cafe, Gamston Airport, near Retford recently. Its a restaurant rather than a cafe, right by the small airstrip.

As for things to do: Clumber Park is a good NT estate, lovely lake, plenty of land to wander. At Edwinstowe, and the remaining bit of Sherwood Forest itself, plan a walk to take in the main woodland, but also Budby Common (RSPB these days) which is heathland and unusual for this area. Sherwood Pines is good for easy trail riding (I guess I should mention this on this forum!) but a bit sterile for walking. There are some “downhill” zones, with even the odd jump. Newark is a nice proper market town. Welbeck has an interesting gallery, the Harley Foundation.

I play guitar a little to accompany my singing. I’m not particularly good at either, and tend to melancholy stuff; I’m told I can make any happy tune sound miserable. Mostly I play round campfires in the middle of nowhere, sometimes having portaged the guitar with a canoe across bits of wilderness. Fortunately I have friends of a similar standard to take turns with, and we even attempt to play together occasionally. Attempt. I do, though, have one mate who is a professional classical guitarist who brings a bit of class to our drunken sessions and is very tolerant of the standards he has to lower himself to!
I have almost no understanding of music theory, and my timing can be a bit weird too.

I also have an antique mandolin, gifted by a friend who’s dad had brought it back from Italy after the war, and wanted someone to have it who would use it. I’ve only played this a little so far, find it quite hard.

I used to play the tin whistle a little, but didn’t get very good and have pretty much not picked it up for 20 years.

Somewhere I have a harmonica which I can make a noise on by breathing.

Please tell me the flame is going to be on top of the Tower. That would be good.

This is more like what I expected. A piano on fire for no reason during a, to be fair, lovely version of Imagine, followed by a lost member of the 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse galloping randomly down the Seine for a bit too long. Much better.
Or maybe its the wine. French, St Emilion, of course.

Logo is excellent.

Sorry, the rest is dull, hoping something might happen after the parade of countries, but for now, I’m out. The weather certainly isn’t helping, but it must be difficult to create any real atmosphere when not in a stadium.

Danny Boyle’s London ceremony still rules. One of the most unexpectedly brilliant bits of TV watching I’ve ever seen, I only tuned in with low expectations as it was “on a budget” compared with Beijing, yet I stayed until they rolled out McCartney at the end.

My instinct is to say “map and compass”, as I’m a proper map lover. There’s another reason I want to say that, which I’ll come to at the end.

I can’t say it though, not honestly. A huge amount of my nav is actually done using a phone app. Always, though, I have looked at the bigger landscape on a bigger screen or, preferably, with a map laid out on floor or bed and pored over. I don’t use the app to follow a pre-loaded route, its simply a map in my pocket that also has the ability to pinpoint my location. And that is a real pleasure to me, having a map of the UK (or other countries) in my pocket is a miracle of modern technology.

In the mountains or wild country, I always have a “proper” map with me. I get this out frequently, but normally only when we stop properly for a break. Its then that the other aspect of maps comes in to play; maps are not just a means of navigation from A to B, they’re a tool to enhance your understanding and enjoyment of a whole landscape. This is where a full size map can’t be beaten, I can lose myself just crossing that landscape in my mind, exploring different places. Often this is mostly before a trip, but whenever I stop for a break, the map is out so I can look at the bigger picture. Maybe something in the distance will catch my eye, and the map will tell me all about it, a lot harder to do on the phone screen. Maybe something I see on the map will make me detour to have a look.

I also play games with myself; know where I am on the map before the phone catches up and puts a dot on my screen. Its rare that it beats me unless I’ve only moved a short distance since the last glance. I am guilty of not practicing proper navigation that frequently, though the sheer amount of time (every day) I spend looking at maps does no harm.
“I tend to find two type of map readers, the analytical who think in bearings, steps, pacing and that side of it, and those who are “Landscape” navigators, who can look at a map and see how it relates to the landscape around them, they are the ones who walk with their heads up, the best navigators combine the two.” 
I’m definitely a Landscape navigator normally, and sometimes have to force myself to slow down and use analytical methods. The latter are so important if you ever only have map and compass to work with, and the skills do become stale.

What I’m trying to say with all the above is that maps are so much more than just a navigation tool to me. The process of planning at home, through to being out there on a hilltop or wilderness lake, is enhanced hugely by maps. I just get so much joy out of using them, and still feel like a cheat if I just use the phone. I was recently in Sweden, canoeing a route through an intricate terrain of glacially formed lakes, linked by many portages, fortunately mostly fairly short, and surrounded by eroded rocky mountains. Though I had the app, I far preferred to have the open map out in front of me in the canoe, as in this unknown, magnificent, landscape it told me so much more than just glancing at the phone to check out location and direction and I loved navigating to hidden portages using a compass bearing.

Day to day, though, I use that app. Apologies to my map-loving soul. My work takes me all over the place, and I’ve always got that map in my pocket. Here you’ll have to trust me on what I’ve been saying, as the other reason I wanted to say just “map and compass” is that I might just work for a certain National Mapping organisation in the bit involving paper maps. I joined them, relatively recently in my career, because of all I’ve said above, I’m not saying it because of who I now work for. Honest guv. The reality is that everything works best together; there is a place for paper, a place for stand-alone GPS, a place for phone use, but a combination of the lot is the way forward. I just think a large map offers so much more pleasure than just a small screen. Of course, I’ve been caught out by tech failing, so would always have a back up, but whether that is a bought map, paper printout or other tech doesn’t matter as much if you’ve thought it through properly.

Of course, the other point is to make sure you know how to use whatever method you choose well, when the going gets tough, and that you can also confidently use your backup method, not just wing it when you’re already out on a limb.

The Gorges du Tarn has to be worth 3 nights+ and the campsites are pretty much all lovely. I recommend La Blaquiere. One day exploring the gorge by van, one day hire kayaks and do La Malene down past camp (the most spectacular section but also the easiest). Loads of companies to choose from at La Malene.

On the way out, do the Millau viaduct; from below and from the services on the north side is great for views of it, but you still have to drive over it, just because.

Le Montdore and Puy de Sancy is a good call actually, you can do a circular route over the top via quite a nice narrow but easy ridge (tiny bit of almost scrambling).

Definitely bike friendly: https://www.chilternvelo.co.uk/cafe/

I think sometimes people think only Scotland has properly rough, wild, country yet I think some of the toughest I’ve found has been in Wales. Thanks for sharing.

Mal, your photos continue to be inspiring!

Thanks Matt, but that very landscape is just totally inspiring, which helps! Don’t tell anyone about it though ;)

Escape via the Polly Lochs

Escaped to the road, and hitched back to start. As always, winds changed our plans several times, especially when it came to trying to get back east into 30mph headwinds, hence we just kept going west!

Two days on Loch Sionasgaig

Portage to Sionasgaig (about a mile. 4 hours)

A week in Assynt over Easter

The Uidh Fhearna between Lochs Veyatie and Fionn Loch

Suilven and camp

On Fionn Loch

Leaving Fionn Loch for the portage to Loch Sionasgaig

I found exactly the same when I last did Jack’s Rake. It struck me as greasy and very exposed. Hard to believe what I used to skip up and down in my youth. I think a lot of it is down to lack of leg and core strength, I just don’t have the same confidence in my balance and foot placement these days.

I’m the same. A few years ago I really started to lose confidence on scrambly bits, and felt far more exposed than I used to, and I’ve always had a good head for heights (former climber). Took me a while to get my head round it, but eventually I realised the lack of “spring” in legs (and arms to an extent) and the therefore more laboured climbing, was sucking confidence as was a lack of the fitness of youth. By slowing down quite a bit, I’ve mostly got reasonable confidence back, though I’m definitely nowhere near as happy as I was 30 years ago skipping happily along the Cuillin ridge and the like, revelling in it.

My own TV is still a cathode ray in a big box bought in 2003, with a £20 Freeview box balanced on top, so as I stay in hotels for work I have a similar experience quite often! I sometimes find the whole big screen thing almost intimidating and dislike the whole having to turn my head to watch thing on the really big ones.

I am definitely old, and have been known to shake my fist at the sky.

However tech in the car and mobile phones I am pretty up to date with and find a lot of it rather useful. Still want to change gear manually though!

The final walk of our trip was on the wild lower hills between Gairloch and northern Loch Maree, with the wind a constant wearying factor on summits for the entire week. These are astonishing little hills, rocky and with surprisingly difficult navigation, given they top out at under 400m. An Groban and Sithean Mor were the two summits, a surprisingly tough day. The views were magnificent.

It is probably the most beautiful part of the world, for me, up there with anywhere I’ve been abroad, even though the scale may be smaller.
We were left with a last look at Suilven. We’d decided not to climb Suilven this trip, as we’d be back in early April…by canoe. Happy to say mission successful on that, but that’ll have to wait until I’ve actually edited the piccies.

…and more…

And there’s more…

Next it was 3 days in magnificent Assynt, staying in the wonderful Suileag bothy and climbing Canisp by the lesser-trod NW ridge.

Running a bit behind, but back at the beginning of March me and a couple of mates had a great week up in the Highlands.

First a day on the flanks of the Cairngorms in typical winter conditions! Spindrift and zero visibility so just kept to the flanks of the plateau.

The Crash avoidance warning on our Focus , thing loses it’s shit when there’s no chance of me hitting anything 🙄Trouble is an alarm goes off without warning that instinctively makes you panic for nothing 🙄

I’ve found the sensitivity setting now and tamed it down hopefully that’ll stop it’s gallop . That was an ordeal in itself the setting was in a sub menu of a sub menu of a sub menu 😡

That thing is flippin’ dangerous. I’ve also managed to turn down the sensitivity but basically, just when IT thinks there’s something dangerous ahead it shouts “BING BING BING LOOK AT ME” and flashes a bit orange thing in the console thus immediately taking your eyes off the road and wondering what the **** is going on, just when it thinks you should be paying attention and avoiding an accident.

Griffon vultures are indeed huge, and definitely check you out as a possible snack.

I was sat resting having climbed 600m from the bottom to the rim of the Gorges du Tarn a couple of summers ago. Looking out over the gorge, I suddenly heard a sound like a hang glider, and looked up as this enormous thing flew past about 20m above me having basically swooped down. By the time I could grab the camera, it was circling 100m above me. I must have been looking really decrepit and hadn’t moved for a while.

Later the same day, after a really heavy rain shower, one was drying out on a wall by the road as I headed back to our campsite. It was, indeed, ****’ huge. I presume it got unexpectedly soaked and couldn’t fly off until dry.

Wolf poo would be very cool.

As above, really.

Clothing can be quite easy to build up, the most important layers are probably the outer protective one, and the base layer next to your skin. Insulation mid-layers can be whatever you have. Places like Decathlon do really good value base layers, which are designed to be quick drying and move moisture from your skin, and waterproofs. Layering allows you to change your level of insulation to suit conditions. A thicker layer (warm fleece or light puffa-style jacket) is good for back up and at lunch stops, but you can manage with what you already have.

A rucksack around 30 litres would probably be about right, give or take. Should have some spare space for a proper lunch then!

Take plenty of liquids.

Hats and gloves could be needed all of the year in the Highlands. Always stick a torch in the bag somewhere, just in case. Small first aid kit.

If in doubt, bias the money towards the footwear part; boots or good approach shoes and decent socks (I use thin liners under thick walking socks, both from Bridgedale). I like the height of a boot but I’m fairly old school and many are happy with lighter footwear. They need good soles though, both in terms of grip and support/protection underneath.

As for nav, though your mate may be doing the main route finding, I’d encourage you to get involved and learn to enjoy using maps (digi, bought paper, home printed paper, whatever is your preference but have a back up to whatever system you use) as they are far more than just a tool to get from A to B. They help you understand the landscape, and get the most out of it, and knowing how to map read enhances the journey a lot in my eye.

A while back, we used to have a roughly annual event canoeing the Dudley (2900m) then Netherton (2768m) tunnels. It was a great trip, you can make a good circular route out of them. This meant we had to pre-arrange with the Museum who run trips through it as well as manage it for navigation. We were escorted by an electric boat, though normally left it behind.
Its fascinating paddling under Dudley, geologically quite varied and feels more like a mine than a canal tunnel. Much is unlined, so its bare rock. Also, it has a wiggle in the middle where it nearly didn’t meet…

https://www.songofthepaddle.co.uk/going-underground-in-dudley-t47424.html#p561577

Its funny, but afterwards pretty much everybody commented how they’d paddled faster than usual in the dark…

Though twice the width and with a towpath, the Netherton is uncontrolled so you do meet other boats. The Dudley is basically escorted.

1996 whilst planning a road trip to the west of the USA, especially Yosemite, from the Public Library in Staines. It was so exciting watching this basic website for Yosemite loading slowly and seeing the images of the place. The trip was just as good as we hoped.

I don’t think I had my own internet at home until sometime around ’99, but had been able to at work for a couple of years by then, and lost suitable amounts of productive time searching for random stuff. Possibly on Ask Jeeves!

Our final day, Les Vignes to Le Rozier, is arguably my favourite open canoeing whitewater paddle anywhere, and I hadn’t run it for a few years. Regular grade 2, with a couple of rapids pushing up towards grade 3, all in the setting of this enormous canyon.

And that was it, 7 days, 7 outstanding paddles. And we barely scratched the surface of what is possible.

The third day again moved up the difficulty a tiny bit, with more, and longer, sections of grade 2. The scenery remains remarkable.

Our second day was a little further upstream, St Enimie to La Malene, and just added in the odd little grade 2. Otherwise, more boring and dreary scenery ;)

With the two warm up rivers over, we headed for the truly magnificent Gorges du Tarn. A 500m deep limestone gorge with a lovely moderate whitewater river at the bottom. Astonishing place.

We planned our trip to slowly increase the difficulty, as my companions didn’t have much moving water experience. The first day was through the heart of the Gorges, the most spectacular part, but all just grade 1. Mostly, you just drift and stare upwards.

Next we had a day on the Cele, a small river that flows into the Lot. More limestone scenery, stepping it up a notch in size! The Cele also adds in some simple whitewater, mostly barely grade 1, with just a smattering of slightly harder. To round it off, there are some weirs with excellent “glissieres” to slide down.

Just back from a fantastic trip to the fabulous rivers that flow from the Massif Central in France.

First, the Vezere. Lovely gentle paddling in wonderful limestone scenery, with the odd fairy tale chateau thrown in.

@malgrey – care to share a link to your Easter adventures here?

I’d vaguely intended to post some piccies directly at some point, but haven’t found time yet. So here ya go: https://www.songofthepaddle.co.uk/the-voyage-of-the-pirate-of-moidart-t60508.html

@malgrey – yep, barely used P16 on Royalex that’s been stored indoors and never used on moving water.

It needs some name stickers removing and properly fitting out.

Got a trolley, multiple new BA’s, paddles, kneeling mats, third seat….all barely used.

Happy days.

Excellent.

I’ve seen a P16 on the Ocean, well a sea loch, in a sudden F5. There was an element of Pioneering going on, as the bailer blew away and it was the first time I was genuinely worried for my companions as we headed for safety! So the name could work, sort of!

Love the Wye, despite it being relatively popular.

@Matt_outandabout, looks immaculate! Nice one P16?

Love Fisherfield. Amazing place. Great photos.

Split it in two, presume there’s a max no of images thing.

We then had a dumping, not deep but very soft, and headed into Maol Cheann-dearg via a night in Coire Fionnaraich bothy, just because we wanted to. It was a tad chilly (-10C in the glen below) but we carried in enough coal, and a guitar and banjo, and the next day was fabulous!