CYHA News

In the Middle of the Wild Wood

On a Friday night in November we gathered in a dark car park in deepest Surrey, and set out by moonlight down the track into the dark forest in search of Tanners Hatch hostel, discussing the Blair Witch Project as we walked. Soon we saw the welcoming glow of light through the trees and arrived at the tiny cottage to find the log fire burning and Ian providing tea and biscuits.

Some who hadn't been there before were alarmed to find the toilets and shower were outside in the annex. This set those of us who've been there before it was "modernised" to reminisce about the old days: no electricity, no central heating, no showers… the only heat from the log fire, gas lighting, an unreliable water supply, and toilets that froze up! But even that wasn't so bad - the recollections of the YHA pioneers who first converted the derelict cottage into a hostel in 1944 describe how they had to sleep in the open listening to flying bombs passing overhead!

The original bunks built from branches gathered in the woods have now been replaced with modern beds, but retaining some of the triple-decker layout. And the memorable fire escape instructions remain: "1. Unfasten bolts; 2. Open windows; 3. Kick out cill; 4. Jump!"

We made good use of the fine weather on Saturday, enjoying the autumn colours on a 12 mile walk taking in part of the North Downs Way to Box Hill. The views were great, and we arrived back at the hostel, tired but satisfied, just as darkness closed in around the wood.

Ian set the log fire for the evening while Marion and James cooked a tasty meal for us. Then we made use of the hostels collection of musical instruments (recorder, drums and tambourines) to play "happy birthday" to Gerry.

Sunday's walk to St. Martha's Hill near Guildford gave us marvellous views from the church on top of the hill. We finished with a stunning sunset view from the car park. Two splendid walks from one of my favourite hostels.

Dave P

Thanks! I would like to say thanks to everyone for making Tanners Hatch weekend special on my birthday. I haven't been through the best of times recently and it meant a lot to me.

Gerry

Vote of Thanks

As Dave's 40^th birthday approached, we were unsure how to mark the occasion and give Dave our thanks for his 12 years of service to the group. Should we commission the Poet Laureate? Publish a souvenir colour supplement for the news letter? Book a troupe of dancing girls or Wembley Arena? In the end Ali & Helen took the initiative of arranging the 'October weekend' which involved much conspiratorial muttering in dark corners of the Charles Peters lounge, whilst we attempted to keep it all a secret. We still needed Dave to collect the money for us, but managed to coordinate people to collect for his birthday present (people showed their appreciation by raising the sum of £800) - and muster our resources to produce a delicious buffet supper. The event went as well as possible considering Dave didn't organise it, and I managed to deposit the world's largest sausage roll close to (unlucky) junction 13 on the M1.

It was a great opportunity to be able to acknowledge our debts to Dave for the smooth running of the club from which we all benefit. CYHA has enriched our lives, enabling us to enjoy shared activities, friendships, personal challenges and even for some of us old timers, become like an extended family. We hope Dave realises how much he personally has contributed to its success - so, on behalf of all of us, sincere thanks!

Trudi

Apology

Apologies are in order for an unfortunate omission from last month's AGM report. It's not that the birth of Matthew Ryan Strellis was any less important than those of Katie Hawkins and Rosie Durgan, but merely that our sieve-like memories don't reach all the way back to January. Very sorry.

Weald Walk

It was a lovely sunny morning when 9 of us met at the Weald Park near Brentwood for the start of a "supposed" 9 mile walk. With so many different car parks to choose from it's a wonder we all managed to meet up at all, and get away so promptly.

The autumn foliage was splendid - lots of yellows, golds and reds on the trees, and fallen leaves crunched underfoot as we headed through the ancient parkland. The woodland theme continued as we entered "The Moores" woodland reserve leading towards Navestock and lunch at the Green Man. Alas the weather did not hold and soon after leaving the pub a slight drizzle set in. However the afternoon's walk was shorter and before long we were drying out round a cup of tea at the Weald's visitor centre.

Marion

The Cotswold Way à Deux

Not that we didn't enjoy Dave's fabulous birthday weekend or that we, in fact, objected to anybody's company but on the Sunday at Milton Keynes, that well known exotic and oh so logically organised location, in which people still get themselves hopelessly lost, Helen and I cut the Union Canal walk short in order to get ourselves to Chipping Camden from where we 'braved' the Cotswold Way.

It was the ideal time of year for it (in other words I had my half term holiday) but no, seriously, I love this time of year when the sun seems to dip the landscape into gold and the trees turn yellow or flaming red, and indeed it did feel a bit New Englandy in Olde Englande. Helen had been whetting my appetite by telling me about medieval strip farming, so of course, I was impatient to see the hip swinging displays of the Chipping Camden Dalers but even though we said "hello" to various farmers NONE looked even vaguely as though they were going to take their shirt off…

So Sunday 2.15 I was ready to go to the station and start our adventure, Helen was re-packing her rucksack. 2.30 I was ready to go to the station to start our adventure, Helen was re-packing her rucksack. 2.35 I was…well, I won't bore you any more. Unbeknown to us we started with the most dangerous stretch right at the beginning. As the underpasses of Milton Keynes are locally known as a 'mugger's paradise'… and we overshot the station and the lady at the station wanted to sell us a ticket to Walton on the Marsh or Motton on the Marsh or some such place… obviously the Cotswold were a foreign world to the cosmopolitan inhabitant of CMK. At any rate Helen's concertina After Eight Jack in-a-box kept me amused, not at least as each hilarious display was rewarded with a minty.

Having arrived in Moreton we settled in our B&B, did some window shopping for lovely unaffordable country clothes, found ourselves in a pub where we had a healthy dinner finishing off the chips with crème brulee and ginger wine (Ali told me ginger was very good for your joints, so the dinner must've been really healthy….). At the B&B we both discovered that we were reading books on murdering psychopaths… was this an omen??

After a cosy bus ride the next morning we wanted to start the walk properly by the commemorative stone at the start/end of the Cotswold Way but even though Helen usually spots/smells a plaque from miles away her powers of orientation failed her… while I never had any to start with! Having padded the stone we finally set out into what turned out to be an absolutely glorious day, up the hill along the ridge and to Broadway Tower whose associations with William Morris and the Arts and Crafts movement we explored. Our descent into Broadway was propelled by visions of jacket potatoes and coffee & walnut cake.. some of which came true! So while I was just about ready for a lovely siesta Helen chose to tell me that the major ascents were all still before us… she does choose her moments! Off we went along iron age forts, sun glasses on, sunglasses off with the company of the four most stupid sheep ever.. we must have 'chased' them in front of us for miles because they never really got the collective hang of letting us pass by a gate or a crossing path. Baahhh!!

The second night we spent in Stanton, a tiny but charming hamlet, where the B&B was a four-poster affair with polished silver at the breakfast table and smoked salmon and strawberries on it!! (As well as cats under and on the bed, which I'm not at all fond of, particularly when I don't know the cats…)

The second day was glorious again so we set off to Winchcombe via a teashop with a variety of cakes and potato & leek soup, my favorite! We stopped at Hayle Abbey, dissolved by Henry VIII, which must have been absolutely huge at one stage. There Helen followed the advice of an old wives tale that each leaf caught in flight represents a day's happiness, was found leaping under conker trees, maple trees, beech trees, in fact any and every old tree in order to indulge in the superstition which will brighten up the rest of her earthly existence for the whole of three days altogether.

We could see the weather front we had been expecting as ther was literally a line across the horizon, black grey and orangey one side.. the one we would have to deal with. While waiting for our landlady to come back from a concert we halted for yet more tea in a Swedish enclave in the Cotswold: all the waitresses were extremely blonde, good looking (stop drooling, Gerry) and obviously multilingual. Most impressive.

The next day the temperature dropped at least 10 degrees and it felt very wintery. After Helen's morning ritual of warming her plasters and re-packing her rucksack we turned our backs on Sudeley Castle with righteous indignation, as we learnt how much the owners have been alienating the locals, and ascended some more and some more and some more. It seemed to get colder and the wind more bitter at every step (but the again I am a whimp when it comes to being cold…). At the top we investigated Bede's Knap (I know it wasn't called that but I like to think the good old venerable Bede had a rest there) which is a burial mound with fake entrances, they must have been fighting to get in there. From there we could see the broadcasting masts where we had decided to diverge from the way and go into Cheltenham in order to get back to MK. They kept beckoning us and I for once was pleased to get off the top and descend into Cheltenham, particularly as it had started raining.

The rest was easy! We had a fun three days and know all too well there is more to do but for another time! And for those people who envied me for having Helen's company all to myself, just a little note: the privilege was all hers!!

Geli