I was stood standing by the side of a road in North Welsh
Wales. I had a ruck sack full of kit and
a kit bag full of more kit. I was one of
six trialists waiting for the mountain rescue convoy to come along. Eventually it did. I had been informed that I may have thought a
TAG was the lowest form of life in the air force, seems that there was another
level below TAG, mountain rescue trialist!
The convoy, was made up of land rovers, both long and short
wheelbase and three ton Bedford RL trucks.
None of the team members would look at us. We were told to throw our kit into the rear
of one of the trucks and we were then informed that we were basically no better than
the kit bags so you can guess where we travelled. We could see the other team members nice and
warm in their land rovers, smoking and laughing and chatting. We were freezing in the rear of the
trucks.
We got to base camp which was just outside a small hamlet in
North Welsh Wales called Capil Curig.
Very generously, the other team members remained in their nice warm
vehicles and, knowing that we were close to hypothermia, allowed us to keep warm
by emptying the trucks. From the main
road we had to walk about thirty yards, cross a low wire fence, go through a
small copse and finally arrive at the base camp site.
With the trucks unloaded we were shown how to erect a twelve
man, frame, tent and then allowed to erect the remaining four tents. The team members came over, collected their
kit and stored it in whichever tent they wanted to sleep in. We were told to choose any empty corner in
any tent. We were only allowed to sleep
in the corners of the tents, so that if there were any drafts we would keep
them off the established team members.
The experienced guys just slung their kit at a spot and left
it, we of course, laid everything out carefully. Then we were bollocked. Why did you lay you kit out? You weren’t told to? Fecking trialists! What would happen if we had to move out
immediately? Lesson one. With all our kit safely packed away, again,
we noticed that many of the experienced guys had disappeared. Jack and Pib were still on base camp. We were told that we could go to the local hostelry,
Cobdens Hotel and to go to the climbers bar.
We did, all six of us, and the bar was heaving. What I wasn’t aware of was that many students
from Bangor University came into the mountains and some of them were girl
flavoured. We were allowed to buy beer,
we were even allowed to drink it, but we were not allowed to socialise with the
team, we could stand in a corner and watch them. Towards the end of the evening Jack gave the
nod and we all left. Back at base camp
we had door stop sized cheese butties and huge mugs of coffee and then we were
allowed to go and keep the drafts off the real team members for the night.
The following morning I woke with someone standing over me offering
me tea or coffee. I couldn’t believe it
but the duty cook was standing over me with a tray of tea and coffee asking
which I preferred. Tea, I said, and was
given a lovely sweet mug of tea. How
fantastic was that. Jack went around and
told the trialists what to wear and we put on the appropriate clothes. We then came out to be given a fully cooked breakfast. I promise you I was in Heaven. I know I’ve gone on about my favourite foods before,
but standing in a field in North Welsh Wales, with a full English in one hand
and a mug of hot sweet tea in the other, is or was, for me, close to being the
best meal in the world.
We were told that, normally, the duty cook would clean any
cooking utensils and individual team members would be responsible for their own knife,
fork, spoon, mug and plate. Normally,
this would happen, but as there were trialists about… As we scrubbed the pots and pans the real
team members discussed what training they would do that day. It was decided that the main body of men
would take the trialists up Moel Siabod for a bit of a bimble. Sort of test us out. Once again we were told what kit to pack and
how to pack it and off we jolly well went.
Moel Siabod was a pig of a hill. The route they took us on wasn’t steep but it
seemed to go on for ever and ever. It
was boggy, so the going was awfully tough.
Near the summit one of the team members, Tom Taylor, had broken away
from the main body and ran to the top.
He had dropped his kit and came back down to us, to take the kit from
one trialist and take that back to the top.
One of the trialists claimed that his boots were hurting him so he took
his boots off and put his RAF shoes on.
We thought that Jack might bollock him at the top but he didn’t, for he lost
a shoe in the bog somewhere, that was punishment enough.
We were allowed to rest at the summit and were beginning to
get some practical instruction in map and compass work. Many of the experienced guys were itching to
get going, they were like race horses ready for the off. Although they half killed every one of the
trialists, with sheer exhaustion, they didn’t damage us so we were pleased to
get back to base camp. I promise you it
was heaven just to sit down and breathe easily, but we were so exhausted, even
that was hard work.
With some scoff inside us we were once again allowed to wash
the cooking utensils. There was a large
zinc washbasin filled with water from the river, we always camped by a river,
or other water source. A table was
brought out and erected. On it was
placed a bowl of water, the trialists were called over. If I remember correctly it was a guy called
Rick Mewes who ran this exercise.
“Right you lot,” he began.
He held up a sewing needle. “What
is this?”
I wasn’t going to answer, but somebody chanced an
answer. “A sewing needle?” “Correct,” says Rick. “What’s it made from?” “Steel?” said the same fellow. “Correct,” says Rick, again. I was
wondering if I should have volunteered an answer, as the questions seem to be
quite easy.
Rick then placed a small piece of blotting paper on the water
surface and the sewing needle on that.
The paper sank but the needle floated.
“Right,” says Rick looking at the clever, or brave, fellow
who had answered both of his questions. ”Are you as heavy as steel?”
“No,” said the same fellow, seeming pleased with his success
rate. I felt that it might be time to
start taking one pace backwards but was hemmed in by the experienced guys.
“The needle, made of steel, is floating on the water.” Rick checked us all to make sure we understood. “The needle is floating on what is known as
the meniscus, a thin film that covers all water.” The other guys were now joining in telling us
that this was how certain insects could skitter across water without sinking. We were then encouraged to approach the bank
of the river.
“Right,” says Rick. “I
am now going to show you the mountain rescue method of crossing a river. First of all you get a good run up.” Rick had moved away and was marking the
ground with the heel of his boot “About
here will do,” he said, cutting a rough line.
“Next step is that you approach the body of water as fast as you can.” Again he checked our faces to make sure we
understood. “Then you leap out, as far
as you can across the river. As your
feet are about to touch the surface of the water, you bounce! You bounce on the meniscus and continue doing
that all the way across the river. Understood?”
We all nodded.
“Right then,” says Rick.
“Who’s first?”
No comments:
Post a Comment