Archive for the ‘Expeditions’ Category

Swimming: The Next Step in Adventure – Guest Blog: Dan Martin

Thursday, June 10th, 2010

 I met Dan Martin in the Lake District last month where I commandeered a motorboat and shipped kit to an island that he swam to and where we cooked up a feast on an open fire and camped out like a real old-fashioned adventure.

OK, that’s not strictly true.

I think the first time we met was actually in a cheap Chinese restaurant outside South Ken Tube but that’s not a very exciting introduction. Dan’s website says that he is an “extreme athlete” and if you take two seconds to see what he’s planning then I think you’d be forced to agree.

I’m hosting the post below, kindly written by Dan, as part of the Adventurer’s Blogging Chain.

Swimming is the future of adventure. We’re running out of peaks to be climbed, running out of ways to get to the poles, running out of ways to cycle/sail around the world and running out of oceans left to row. Swimming is the untapped future.

Outdoor swimming is taking off around the world thanks mainly to the popularisation of triathlons and Ironman races. Marathon swimming is booming with more and more people attempting to swim the English Channel every year. More and more swimmers are getting back into open water and its great news for all of us.

I did my first ever open water swim at the beginning of May last year and am now addicted! It’s the rush as the cold hits you, the delight as you realise you’re alive and the way the world looks from a fish eyed view!

I think with the increase in popularity of open water swimming we’ll find more people trying to push the barriers of swimming. 25 years ago marathon running was thought to be only for the super fit, now thousands run marathons each year and some run further-across the Sahara, across America, around the world! In the public eye there is Martin Strel and Lewis Pugh achieving amazing things in swimming but behind the scenes there are hundreds of swimmers opening up new routes and channels and swimming further and in colder water than ever before. The mental barriers for long distance swimming are being broken down and swimming oceans is now possible. I will set off next year from the United States and swim across the Atlantic wearing only my trunks, goggles and a swim cap. I’ll swim in stages of about three hours and it’ll take between four and six months. There are a lot of unknowns with this kind of swimming but no more than when people first started heading south to the pole or up Everest or when we first put a man on the moon.

In more mainstream expeditions it’s now almost impossible to get to the North Pole without swimming across some stretches of water. The video below is of Mike Horn and Bourge Ousland walking to the North Pole in winter and having to swim stretches:

The only barriers that long distance swimming has are mental. I think the Pacific will be swum soon, I was sad to hear that Todd Cameron and Rob Hutchings’ Great Barrier Reef swim had to be cancelled due to finances. Lynn Cox swam a mile to Antarctica; Lewis Pugh swam a kilometre at the North Pole and on Mount Everest. Penny Palfrey had to pull out of a 72mile swim between Oahu to Kauai in Hawaii due to being stung by a Portuguese Man-O-War but was on course to make it. I think we’ll see the emergence of self supported longer swims towing a small pod with navigational equipment, locator beacon, food, water and room to sleep. Jon Bradshaw was looking into this for his Atlantic swim but at the moment it looks unfeasible. I’d say it would be possible with fins and a wetsuit but without that added propulsion then you’d struggle to make progress. Obviously swimming will never take the mantle of climbing or hiking but the 21st century is the time for swimming to the limits!

I’ve been fortunate enough to swim with a few of Britain and Ireland’s finest adventurers and the video at the top of the page was the result. It may not be an exhibition of the finest swimming but they all gave it a go! Well done Dan Richardson, Simon and Fearghal, Al Humphreys, Helen Lloyd and Tim Moss. The name and shame list includes Rob Lilwall, Sarah Outen and Mark Kalch-all of whom have turned down the opportunity for swims!

 

This article is written as part of the Adventurer’s Blogging Chain – a communal movement of like-minded people writing stuff for each other’s websites.

At any time, you can check if there have been any recent posts here on Twitter.

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10 tips for anyone planning an expedition – Guest Blog: Lynn Morris

Thursday, June 3rd, 2010

I got an email out of the blue the other day from an expedition I’d heard about some time ago: Atlantic Rising. They were awarded the Land Rover ‘Go Beyond’ Bursary for their very cool idea to travel around the Atlantic Ocean overland along the one metre contour line. This is predicted to be the new coastline of the ocean in 100 years if seas continue to rise.

Lynn Morris, one third of the expedition team, kindly wrote these ten handy tips for anyone planning expedition.

For the last eight months (and probably the next eight) my two friends and I have been living in a tent on top of a Land Rover while running an environmental education project. We have driven more than 12,000 miles through 15 countries and crossed the Atlantic by container ship. We are currently in Brazil, which is not quite half way.

Should anyone be planning something similarly exciting and slightly foolhardy I would offer the following advice.

  1. Find out how much money you think you need for your project then quadruple it.
  2. Shamelessly accept the hospitality of perfect strangers and overload their washing machines. We are utterly amazed by the generosity of people who have only just met us.
  3. Ruthlessly exploit any free wifi connection you come across. Specialist skill required: the ability to conduct conversation with drunk expats in hotel bars while chasing payments for articles, communicating with teachers or examining online bank statements.
  4. Accept delays you can’t do anything about. For border crossings that might take 5 hours bring a book and a snack. Bear in mind Brazilian customs officials are the slowest in the world (we have been waiting five weeks for them to give us our car back).
  5. Don’t be surprised when your hitherto reliable laptop dies. This will happen 15,000miles from the nearest Apple repair centre.
  6. Try to have some time off. In the first two months of our expedition we had one and a half days off. This is not sustainable. Sometimes it is good to get more than 8 foot away from your travelling companions/partners/friends (see point 8).
  7. Fight with your team mates/fellow expeditioners/tent buddies by all means. But if you only have two friends in the country it is best not to make both of them hate you simultaneously.
  8. Find a term for your colleagues/team mates/travelling companions/partners that does not make you sound too corporate, Victorian or as if you are in a ménage a trois (suggestions welcomed).
  9. Bear in mind however hard you are working people at home firmly believe you are sunbathing on a beach. When you get home all they will comment on is your lack of tan.
  10. If you are still thinking of a big expedition then go go go! Don’t be put off by the fact you have no clue how to fix a car, half the money you need, only the vaguest idea of where Suriname is and most of your friends think you’re mad – none of these matter. They will probably only add to the adventure.

The aim of the Atlantic Rising expedition is to establish a network between schools in low-lying communities and raise awareness through writing, photography and film about how climate change is already affecting communities. For more information visit www.atlanticrising.org.

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9 Tips for the Aspiring Long-Distance Rickshaw Rider

Tuesday, June 1st, 2010

When I started planning my trip a year or so back, I struggled to find any information about cycling rickshaws long distance. Almost as if it wasn’t a common thing to do. So, here are some tips if you fancy having a go (which I would highly recommend):

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1. Use the Rickshaw Forum

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2. Don’t worry any more or less about weight when packing than you would for a normal bike trip

The truth is that an extra pair of socks and one more litre of water won’t feel like as big an impact on you as it would your lighter counterparts but don’t fall foul of “Oh, it’s so heavy already this won’t matter…”. Stick with the same prudence you’d use to pack for any other bike trip. But…

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3. Make use of the storage space

Size and weight may be your enemies in many instances but do your best to make friends with them too. Loaves of bread and packets of vegetables needn’t be crushed at the top of panniers, and you might find, as I did, room for a wind-up radio and space to store a handy white board.

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4. Think outside the box to make use of your bike

In addition to the above, can you use your bike for shelter or anything else besides transport? I tied my tarp (like a tent) off of mine and used the seat cushion as a wonderfully comfortable sleeping mat.

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5. Be courteous to other road users

You are big and you are slow. You will inevitably take up people’s time so pull over to let them pass when you need to and always give a wave and a smile when you can’t. It’ll help avoid any rising road rage and save your vital energy for those hills.

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6. Consider your width

There will be times when you’ll get to the end of a cycle lane and hit a gate that you can’t get round or bollards you can’t fit through. Maybe you’ll be able to unpack and lift the bike over. Maybe you won’t. There’s no way to foresee these occurrences so just prepare yourself mentally for them and try not to curse too loudly.

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7. You can get up hills just as well as anyone else

My primary fear upon embarkation was that I would hit hills that I physically couldn’t cycle up. This never happened and I almost never used my lowest gear. Many times I saw people shoot past me on unburdened bikes only to get off and push when the incline picked up whilst I kept on pedalling. No doubt the threshold of limitation is lower for rickshaws but I managed at least 14% gradients and I am not Chris Hoy. Drop your gears, not your head.

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8. You will be slower than a normal bike

Once you get your head around this, it’s just like any other trip. You’ll soon work out what your average speed is (mine was about 8.5mph) and you’ll probably know that there’s not a huge amount you can do to change that significantly so then your progress is simply down to how many hours for which you want to cycle.

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9. The ups and downs of cycle routes versus roads are just exaggerated

Sustrans cycle routes take you away from traffic, remove the need for navigation (when they’re good!) and send you through some great scenery. They also tend to be longer than the road-based alternatives and take you up lots of extra hills. The pros and cons of this are no different from normal except that your speed and weight make those hills extra hard work, whilst your speed and width can make busy roads additionally hassle-filled. No great difference, no magic solution, they both work so just go with what you feel.

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1,001 miles in a rickshaw

Thursday, May 27th, 2010

Yesterday afternoon I arrived back home having cycled a rickshaw a thousand miles home from the Highlands.

It took just over four weeks, meaning that I finished two weeks ahead of schedule. I passed through all the Special Olympics Great Britain operating regions, furthered the previous record of 955 miles and had a bit of an adventure. That, I believe, is mission accomplished.

Next Wednesday, June 2nd, I’ll be on London’s Southbank with my rickshaw from 7pm for a picnic and free rides. Please do come along.

I’ll stick up some more photos and pieces about the trip over the coming weeks but will also reinstate business as usual on the blog. Thanks for following me – the comments on this site, feedback on Facebook and support on Twitter were every bit as motivating as the waves and car horns on the road. I appreciate them.

In the meantime, since I’ve scored myself a bit of free time, I’m squeezing in another little adventure over the Bank Holiday weekend. Having spent a month cycling home from Scotland, I’ve decided my first act upon returning home should be to drive back up there for a 95-mile bike race across Skye. Let’s see how these new muscles work on a featherweight machine…

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Bigger, Stronger, Faster

Friday, May 7th, 2010

My forearms rest over the handlebars and my head is down. My body rocks from side to side and my legs keep turning over. I look ahead at the rising road and subdue a smile with gritted teeth.

In the pub last night, the guys propping up the bar all had the same response when they heard where I was heading: Puffed cheeks, shaking heads and a wry smile. Apparently there was a big hill ahead of me in the morning. I looked at the grid lines of my map which continued across the page oblivious to contours. Sixty five miles or so to Preston where a bed and friendly face awaited. Could I do that in a day?

Tomorrow I will be bigger.

Pulling out of the farmer’s field, I turn left and an elderly man stops his car on the other side of the road. He looks me up and down, stares coldly into my eyes and raises a thumb. I’m off.

The road sweeps round the side of rising hills into the mist with a feel of no man’s land and I press down on the pedals without relenting to the gradient. I summit, don another layer for the descent and stuff some chocolate. Coming down the far side I hit 25mph and swerve across the road as I glance at the speedo to confirm as such. My highest gear is seeing unprecedented levels of use this morning as my torso bobs up and down, making the most of gravity to aid the turning of cogs. There is a slight pressure in my head from the exertion and my eyes continually water but my body does not seem to be fading. I press on.

Cars honk their support and passersby wave.

“Keep it up!”, cries a woman flying past me downhill in the opposite direction.

“Hey!”, shouts another, caught off guard but enthusiastic nonetheless.

“Hey”, I offer in response but I’m not looking at him. I’m staring dead ahead.

They’re not cheering because I’m working hard. They’re not willing me to make the distance, maintain the speed, rise to the challenge. They’re cheering because I’m riding a bright yellow rickshaw that clearly weighs a ton and is festooned with banners and a flag. The sentiment is appreciated but today I am fuelled by thoughts of progress and that rare and blissful sense that your body is capable of whatever your mind can put it to.

Today I am stronger.

A fly crawls across the map I have wedged under bungee cords on the front seat. Lazily it walks across the page making a mockery of my efforts, ignorant to my dilemma and oblivious to the heat of my gaze. I maneuver my right wheel around a pot hole and when I look back it’s gone.

Ahead of me, a sign indicates toilets at the next junction but assessing the distance as I sail round the roundabout, I determine it to be a waste of precious seconds, vital yards, and continue to the nearest roadside bush. Before getting back into the saddle I open my food bag and moments later find myself 1,300 calories heavier. I pedal furiously back into traffic and sink another litre from my water bottle.

I am setting no records here. The speeds I’m achieving are laughable. I can’t even catch the granny on a mobility scooter before she turns off to post her letters and every other cyclist on the road passes me with ease. But that is irrelevant. This is about me. I have contrived a sense of challenge and I am relishing it. My body is responding perfectly to the stimulus and it feels good.

I check the speedo as I have done every 30-seconds throughout the day. The impact of each ascent and descent on my average speed obviously lessens as the day goes on but it doesn’t stop me monitoring every minute change.

8.72mph. 25% up on yesterday.

Today I am faster.

I know I’m on the home straight but I’m out of gas. Before my mind makes the decision, my body steers me into a bus stop and I sprawl myself over the front seat and bury my head, almost literally, in a giant bag of Doritos. I don’t have the energy even to maintain a facial expression and the crumbs of tortilla chips spill all over my top as I crunch lazily, staring into nothingness. I mount once more and follow the directions I’ve been given, my glucose-deprived world narrowed to the width of a single lane.

I often find social situations awkward and greetings are some of the worst. When do you shake hands? When do you hug and kiss cheeks, and when do you just stand two yards apart and say “Alright?”. Waiting in the driveway out the front of his house with the garage door propped open, Steve makes the decision easy by spreading his arms out wide and I’m not ashamed to say I fell straight into them.

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