The Rossendale Rambler

Walking with the Rossendale group of Ramblers has resulted in being led over high hills and moorland, through bog and driving rain, not to mention, which I am about to do, white-outs and blizzard conditions. The worst offender in these walks is the redoubtable Walter, who seems to have the uncanny knack of finding the worst and most 'awful' bogs around. I find myself having a bet before these walks as to the Richter scale of awfulness we might encounter. To be absolutely fair, other leaders also fall into the 'awful' category. I wouldn't like to think they felt any degree of being left out of this rating scale of 'awfulness'. After all they may give up altogether and not try to achieve the heights that Walter has so far in my mind achieved and the element of 'awfulness' would disappear from the walks altogether. This would undoubtedly put an end to my excitement and anticipation of these walks. Struggling against all odds over clumpy ground with bog holes big enough to drown a person unsuspectedly in the dark and lethal mire, pitting one's strength against the blustery wind and coping with torrential rain is after all the essence of Rambling, one could be led to believe, and is the conclusion I have come to, with some months of these experiences now tucked under my belt.

What excitement, what madness could ever be achieved in everyday life by comparison? I return from these walks utterly exhausted, legs buckling from under me, panting and gasping what seems to me could be my last, only to present myself at Kay Street car park the next week for more.

Any one who finds their life In any way dull and mundane should try this hobby to buck their ideas up and feel they can live, or should I say survive. Survival is after all what life is all about and if you are not testing this to the absolute utmost then brothers, and sisters YOU ARE NOT LIVING ! Gretchen - alive and kicking as on 2nd February 1999.

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