Outdoors Diary - Friday 20 October, 2006

Muckthwaite, Friday 20 October, 2006

I were having a gentle cat-nap last Friday when there were a terrible banging and a thumping on my front door. I jumped oop and opened door, there outside stood old Bartholomew Codger in his dayglo Peter Storm cagoule as he's had since 1973.

'Come quick,' he shouts. 'It's a team call-out. There's trouble on t'moor.'

Well, I gathered my kit together and ten minutes later I were at team headquarters in cow shed behind village abbatoir. Now I don't mind telling you, I were more than a little surprised. Muckthwaite Mountain Rescue Team is a venerable institution, but we've not had a call-out since 1987 when young Timothy Hodgkiss built a paraglider from Meccano and bed linen and tried to fly down Muckthwaite Pot, right messy that were...

Anyhow, young constable Furbutt, the team leader addresses us Churchill style like. 'There's a fella in trouble oop on Muckthwaite Moor,' he says. 'Follow me.'

And with that he took the lead and all five of us and t'stretcher set off for the moors.

It were a wild day, sheep blew past us as we toiled up towards the moors. Young Furtbutt were almost flattened by a falling cow, but eventually we reached the area where the casualty were said to be.

Right easy to find he were, huddled down behind a large cow. As we got close, Constable Furbutt took the lead, then young Garry Gearhead pipes up. 'Good grief,' he says 'It's Graham Townshed, the gear tester for Try Getting Out. I recognise him from the magazine. It's like a dream, do you reckon I could ask him to sign my pack?'

I gave him a look that shut him up then, all according to the book, I approached the casualty. 'What's wrong? 'I says. 'I was having a bloody nap. This had better be good.'

He goes all shaky and sick looking. Then he says in a quavery voice: 'It's my layering system. My hydrophylic base-layer's not wicking properly so moisture's accumulated close to my skin. What's worse is that these boots lack torsional rigidity and cushioning in the mid-sole is frankly inadequate. It's not safe to continue.'

Now of course there's nowt worse than basic layering-system failure but when I realised he didn't even have a map pocket and the adjustment cords on his jacket weren't tethered properly, I concluded he were beyond help.

'Come on lads,' I said. 'This one's a gonner. We've done all we can, but it's hopeless. He's barely wicking and his DWR has completely gone.'

Bartholomew made the sign of the cross and muttered a few words and we headed for the pub.

It just goes to show, you can do your best, but choose the wrong baselayer, and it can all go horribly wrong. It were a nice walk though.

Alfred Todger