Inside Out

They wouldn’t tell me what I was going to be doing for my stag weekend. All I was told was to turn up in Nant Peris and to bring my black tie evening suit.

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Working on a Navy base has its perks. Every meal is a good solid portion designed to keep a sailor going through his watch. The facilities are excellent and as a civvy you are treated with politeness and respect (at least to your face).
However, being surrounded by barbed wire and phase one trainees being marched in circles and balled at by men with little moustaches isn’t exactly my natural environment so it was time to “go ashore”, turn in my pass and leave the concrete frigate behind.
Heading for the coast and parking up next to an old coastguard station, now manned by volunteers, I pull on my running trainers and set out along the coastal path. It’s steep going, the track rising and falling but it is spectacular, especially as a set of steps leads to a chapel perched on a narrow isthmus of land.
Free of the confines of the base, the wildlife is plentiful and I pull up sharply as five dear cross my path twenty feet ahead. Gulls and terms reel overhead and rabbits scatter as they hear me coming.
Driving back through the camp gates, I begin to understand why shore leave means so much to sailors.

March isn’t the ideal time of year to be jumping in the rivers of North Wales. With snow on the hills still and persistent light drizzle, the water temperature is 4-6°C and the air only fractionally above that.

However, Dave from Boulder Adventures called and said he had a new gorge to explore and would I like to tag along. Jumping, swimming, climbing and sliding, all mixed up with a little adventure, of course I would!

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It was midnight and my finger was hovering over the transmit button on the radio microphone. For the first time in 40 years of sailing I was about to call the Coastguard for real. Suddenly without warning the static ceased and the speaker spluttering into life.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday…”

Someone else had beaten me to it!

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Christmas Day is rarely noted for its frantic exercise. This year however, rather than just fall asleep in front of a rubbish film, my brother and I decided to brave the elements and head out.

Weston-Super-Mare may be full of grandmothers and bingo halls but it’s also blessed with an enormous beach. Despite the recent snow the sky was clear and we could easily see the ten miles across the sea to Wales. We wrapped ourselves up against the cold and breathed in the sharp, fresh air, which invigorated us after spending so much time cooped up in a stuffy house.

Weston beach is usually full of people on dirt bikes, windsurfers and kiteboarders. On Christmas afternoon, with the tide a very long way out, the beach was almost empty. Over an hour or so we passed only a dozen or so people, mostly couples or families out walking the dogs. It was one of those rare occasions where you have something to say to each and everyone of them, “Merry Christmas’.

Leaving the town centre behind, we meandered towards Brean Down, the promontory at the southern end of the bay. As we did so, the sun began to set behind the headland. Despite the fact that sunsets happen everyday, I rarely take the time to appreciate them or have the chance to see them in their full glory, marred as they frequently are by London’s buildings. This one was glorious.

It may not be much of an adventure, but to a city girl like me it’s a thrill to stand somewhere without crowds and take the time to watch a sunset from start to finish. Even now I’m home, it inspired me to go outside this evening and have a look at the sunset. Even buried behind London houses, it’s still glorious.

This LittleBigAdventure was contributed by Lorna Robinson.

It had been a cold, grey, damp winter. The cloud had barely lifted off the hills for more than a few hours in months. The bare trees were covered in moss and dripped continuously. It felt like we hadn’t been out to play for weeks.

Then one night the cloud disappeared and it was clear. No moon meant dark skies and the stars leapt out of the inky blackness. The Milky Way traversed from horizon to horizon.

Donning head torches, two friends and I walked up into the old quarries behind the village, built a fireplace from some pieces of slate and lit a fire. Under the stars we toasted marshmallows and put the world to rights. There was a cold wind but lots of layers and the fire kept us warm.

It was gone midnight when we picked our way through the slag heaps and back to our homes. Our eyes were red and our hair and clothes smelt of smoke but it didn’t matter, it was just nice to have been out doing something.

Climbing Everest, skiing to the Poles, kayaking the Stikine, these are adventures. Sometimes, however, you don’t have the time or resources for a full-on adventure.

That’s where LittleBigAdventures come in. Sometimes just doing something is enough. Explore a local stream in your kayak, spend the night out in a sea cave or turn your neighbourhood woods into a downhill track.

LittleBigAdventures are about getting out there and living adventurously when adventure seems far away. Sometimes they are as much about the people as the place. Coasteer along a new bit of coastline, abseil into a disused quarry or swim across a lake.

Just go out and do something.

And if you do, let us know and we’ll post it here. Take photos, write some words and inspire others to get out there.

See the LittleBigAdventures