This week's diary comes to you live from the Alps where legendary outdoors chronicler Alfred Todger is fresh from tackling the classic north face of the Igor.
Grindelwald, Friday 17 November, 2006
For one week only, I'm writing outdoors diary from outside of
Muckthwaite, well, I say 'outside' but in point of fact, Jack Clegg -
landlord of Muckthwaite Arms - and I, are in t'Swiss Alps.
There were none of that modern airline rubbish neither. I hopped
on t'back of Jack's Lambretta and we headed south. Some 73 hours of
non-stop riding later, we finally arrived at our destination, the
Igor I think they call it.
Well, after a few pints of local beer, which to be honest with ya,
has nowt on Muckthwaite ale, we headed off for a reconaissance of the
walk Jack had planned for the morning. We set off through some
meadows towards a large crag that reminded me a little of Muckthwaite
Edge, dark it were and quite greasy looking.
'That's the fella,' says Jack. 'They call it the Nordvant. Looks
easy enough though.'
I weren't so sure, there were some steep-looking rock and all, but
more worryingly, I could hear these rattling, crashing noises as
sounded like falling rocks. Still, I were willing to give it a go, so
we started on oop.
After an hour or so, the walking got a little harder and at one
point, Jack were reduced to swinging around on end of a rope that
someone had forgotten to untie, but it weren't difficult and even the
falling rocks were easy to dodge as long as you kept looking oop.
In fact it weren't long before were standing on the very top of
the Igor. Magnificent it were, but we were anxious not to miss tea at
the guesthouse where we'd put oop for the night.
It were then that I had a right brainwave. The other night I were
watching a young fella called Leo summat on't telly. Well, when he
reached the top of route, he simply jumped off.
'Hang on', I says and I gave Jack a little push to help him on his
way - it were only when he were tumbling downwards that I remembered
the bit about the parachute.
I hold my hands oop and admit it, I made a mistake. Just how big a
mistake dawned on me when I realised that the keys to the Lambretta
were still in Jack's pockets.
Not a bad day, though to be absolutely honest, I think the Alps are
overrated.
Alfred Todger
