Outnumbered & Abroad: Ghyll Scrambling (Part 18)

Wales (Sunday, September 30, 2018 - Day #6) - I struggled to stay awake once again. I’m not sure what is wrong with me, but I know that even if I do fall asleep, I’m not getting rested.

The after effects of being around so much mold will haunt me for weeks. I coughed so hard and so much last night that Randi, bless her heart, came over to quietly ask me if I needed any water. Coughing so hard that my eyes were profusely watering, all I could croak out was, “I’m fine,” while blinking back tears.

What worried me more was that Nicole seemed tired as well. Equal parts guilt filled me that it was my coughing that had kept her up and that she was going to ask me to drive.

Making our first gas station pit stop on the way out of Liverpool, we were all pretty anxious about what the cost to fill out tank was going to be. We couldn’t quite read the sign and thought we had to be mistaken that it was 130 pounds per liter. Thankfully, we were reading it wrong! It was 130 pences per liter.

At the gas station, I got waters and travel snacks. There wasn’t much in the sense of your typical American road trip fuel. I got there version of potato chips, gum (in a fancy, medicine looking container) and … a bag of cheesy bread loaves!

The gas station had more of a grocery store look to it so I figured carbs would at least fill out stomachs up if we needed it. I was shocked at how inexpensive the food was and equally shocked that all I could find were sanitary napkins and no tempos. Pegging them for just being out, I didn’t worry about it too much.

Once we had fuel, both vehicle and human, we were on our way to Clue #15 - a clue that I was most excited about. The pretty rolling hills of the English Countryside took me back in time to the favorite books of my childhood like National Velvet. As we passed through the countryside, Randi got her first “I Spy” card - the British Piebald Sheep.

The GPS System couldn’t track to the place where we were going so, once we were into the small adjacent town to the coordinates we needed, it came down to my navigation skills and, I have to say, I am very impressed that we made it there without a wrong turn or mishap. Mainly because they have a different way of measuring distance and describing locations.

We met John, our over enthusiastic guide who looked to be in his mid to late 30’s, full of energy and full of fun! He explained we were going to be “Ghyll Scrambling.” (I would later learn that “Ghyll” is gaelic for “gully.”) When the three of us all continued to stare blankly at him, we explained how the trip was working with the clue card and that we had NO idea what we were doing in the middle of the hilly countryside.

He proceeded to bely-laugh before he explained that we were going to “baby-canyoneer,” “kayak without the raft” and “bodysurf” our way down the large hill behind us via the small creek.

John gave us our proper equipment which was wet suits, shorts, jackets, life vests and helmets. Trying to change in the blustery British winds, along the edge of a muddy farm road and a hilly sheep pasture was about as easy as putting on spandex after a hot shower.

Nicole and I had the option to wear two wet suits and I decided to chance it, deciding that my fear of freezing was more pressing than drowning because of a lack of mobility in so much blubber. Once we were appropriately suited up, John gathered us up to leave.

We headed about a mile, if that, straight up the mountain on a dirt farm road. I found myself irritated by the strong headwinds and frustrated as Nicole routinely kept falling further and further behind. Yes, the path was steep and the road was rocky, but we were moving at a very leisurely pace. John had us stop multiples time on the way up to wait on her and I could tell that he was slightly worried about her ability to keep up on whatever was coming next.

With her head down, holding the neckline of her wetsuit, she was walking side-to-side, not stepping forward. She was intentionally making the trip up the hill harder and harder for herself but her eyes almost seemed unfocused and not with us. It was the strangest thing. But there always seems to be a way that things work themselves out. This change of events worked out in a way that I couldn’t help but feel my feelings and sentiments towards her change.

Now to save all parties the details, an impressive snot rocket was launched and, because she was trailing, was carried by the wind and smacked Nicole dead in the face. Feeling both pity and the hilarity of the sitcom screenwriter level humor of the situation, I had to stifle my laugh.

It wasn’t much longer that I was over walking in the cold, stopping and waiting in the wind, and overall how long this was taking because of Nicole. Annoyed, I “snapped” in about the only way that I can. I grabbed Nicole’s hands that were holding each other and went, “Alright, let’s finish this” and I promptly towed her the rest of the way up the hill. A tactic that may being illegal in the world of equestrian ride and ties, I utilized it to the best of my ability in the hills of Wales.

The gully/ghyll we were going to be adventuring down was half natural and half manmade as, at one point in its history, the creek had been a part of a lead mine. In fact, the lead for the first pencil had been mined right there (allegedly)! John offhandedly mentioned that there was pencil museum and monument nearby but you could tell that the outdoor adventurist in him could honestly care less and seemed to think it was silly. Us crazy Americans definitely had the same thought of, “Do you think we can go?”

join explained a little bit of the backstory on gayly rambling and told us how it was an original pastime and hobby activity of the nobles. Starting at the base, they would boulder and climb their way to the top and to “win” you couldn’t get wet. Basically, a start up of “the floor is lava” kind of game. The way times have changed the activity is literally 180 degrees! Now we start at the top and work out way to the bottom and the purpose is to get absolutely soaked!

Our guide told us we could dunk ourselves in thew water to get acclimated or just head off. We all decided to go for it … which made me laugh at his pointless question. My first slide down a natural rock chute resulted in full submersion at the bottom. Before you knew it, we were all having the time of our life! We proceeded to crawl, scramble, boulder and slide our way down the British countryside.

The first scary or challenging section that we got to was about a 12 foot drop over the edge of a waterfall. At this point, I had an immediate memory flashback to being a very young girl at Karen Long’s family’s cabin at the Lake of the Gods. They had a boathouse that all of the older girls and boys had jumped off. Being about 6 or 7 years old, I didn’t get too. I have never jumped off something high into water. Now didn’t seem like a good time to start. There was rocks and boulders everywhere! John also explained that the water wasn’t super deep so we needed to bend our knees to help take the impact and not break anything. I just walked straight up and did it! It was totally awesome!

Even more awesome - after some arguing, a lot of positive affirmation from the crew, Nicole did it! John told us there was another, more fun way, if we wanted to try it. My adrenaline was absolutely pumping; of course I wanted too!

John demonstrated how you could lay on your back and then shimmy our way off the waterfall to dive headfirst below. I wasn’t a fan. I’ve paid too much and worked too hard for the brain I have… plus I don’t have health insurance so an injury would be even more detrimental than most. Therefore, I opted to rescind my earlier excitement and repeat the bent knee pencil dive from before while both the Johnson’s went headfirst.

The next large plunge was ever farther down than the first one. John went first and then stood up on a boulder to point with his foot to the small area we were to aim for if “we didn’t want to get hurt.” He did assure us, however, that the water was “much deeper here.” I’m not sure that actually reassured me though.

Nicole’s “I like land” picture.

In fact, as I stepped up to the edge of the cliff, all I cold think was that we were doing a simulation of sorts of falling into a well and a bout of claustrophobia that I didn’t know I had started to flare up. I squashed the feeling down in the pit of my stomach and glanced around to see if there was a trail around the drop, but, of course, there wasn’t one. The only way forward was down into the well. GULP

I was so thankful for my life jacket as it popped me back up. I couldn’t really get my tippy toes on the ground. It was impossible, mainly because of the life jacket, to get enough propulsion to grab the top of the boulder John stood on to pull ourselves out. After what felt like eternity but was probably only a few short seconds, which Warren Clayton’s water proof camera on record proved later, I got out.

There wasn’t as many chutes or slides that I had originally thought we were going to do> would like to think that I’m pretty quick on my feet and was able to move pretty nimbly along the path.

Our entire group was so fast that John offered us to do the longer route back to the vehicles at the bottom of the hill. I really looked to Nicole to see what she wanted too ay as the one that probably disliked this activity the most. Just like with trail riding, your pace is only as fast as the slowest horse and the amount you do is based solely on the mental state and confidence of the slowest/shakiest horse on the trail.

“What’s the alternative?” Nicole asked.

“Walking the rest of the way down the hill,” John said.

“Let’s go!” Nicole said.

YES!

IN order to continue, we had to do more climbing. We headed to the top of a small hill to our left, away from the river. John pleaded with us to please be careful as it was extremely steep and straight down to the river.

Warren Clayton, being both the kid and the boy he is, out of nowhere, shouted, “I love running down hills” and went bounding down the hill. Unfortunately for m, I was between him and the bottom of the hill and I could have sworn he ran into me because, as anyone would have predicted, he lost his footing and started Big Foot striding down hill trying to not end up ass over tea kettle.

As we went through the more manmade/mining part of the lower stream, we didn’t have anymore big jumps but spent time navigating narrow canyons while water rushed around us. I think my favorite part about this section was a part where we had to climb underneath a massive tree that had grown across the creek, right where it chopped down about eight feet below. Using the tree’s root system as a handhold, we got to the other rocky edge where we let ourselves down.

Then we had a cold, windy walk back down the remaining road to the cards. I couldn’t laugh about how comical we must have looked, just nonchalantly strolling in those wetsuit outfits. The walk went faster though as Warren Clayton and I Chatted with John. Warren Clayton told him about the British’s favorite topic with us - his life as a cowboy.

“A real life cowboy?!” John exclaimed. He then proceeded to tell us about how his 70 year-old father just got married and, at the reception, he had “a bucking bronco machine.” The way h recounted this British novelty that’s an American tradition of fairs, birthday parties and rodeos, left me giggling.

“What do the rest of you do then?” John asked. “She,” he pointed to Randi after I explained, “has the hardest job.” I couldn’t agree more!

We made it to what felt like our first hotel of the trip but it took just about an hour to get there … and we were ravenous. Thank you God that I got those loaves of bread. They may have been random, b ut they were the best bread I have had in a really long time! It may have been another case of Domino Pizza, but my body needed those calories so bad!

Too exhausted from how physical Ghyll Scrambling was and how exhausting shivering can be, we opted to just eat dinner at our hotel. While the food was nothing exceptional we were once again exasperated by really poor customer service. The Chinese server wanted nothing to do with helping us and acted irritated over taking our order. It’s such a strange custom service world here!

We all hung out in Nicole and I’s room with the plans to both Journal and upload pictures (me) to Facebook for everyone back home. This is when we made the most marvelous discovery.

Apparently Warren Clayton, whose camera was water proof, didn’t just take pictures while Ghyll Scrambling he also took some videos. One of those videos just so happened to be of the first waterfall we jumped off, the one the Johnson’s went down on their back’s headfirst the second time.

Warren Clayton turned the camera on, hung it around his neck and then recorded the three of us going down after him. What I hadn’t noticed real-time was that, after I had gone, Nicole thought she was drowning so I had been busy grabbing/pulling her to dryer land. I did not notice that when Randi nonchalantly walked up to the edge of the cliff to jump .. she slipped and fell down the waterfall, bouncing twice on her butt before landing belly flop style.

We laughed so hard we about peed ourselves! As did everyone back home!

I am so thankful that we are still getting along so well!