Eat Clean Train Dirty....and so it begins!

So I don’t blog often. It bores me and saps my bodily juices of creativity that I normally savour for:

A: the kitchen (as a self-confessed Masterchef)

B:  the bedroom (as an often highly acclaimed Pornstar);  

C:  my hunt for the next crazy arse pain inducing adrenalin fix

(Note: at least two of the above comments are a lie).

But, here I find myself, on the end of a keyboard tapping away, letting rip, juicing away!

A lot has gone on since my last blog. Been electrocuted, carved up by ice, nearly avalanched, almost blown off Beachy Head cliffs, eyeballed a shark,  smashed a few mountains, smashed a few Sambuca’s , almost smashed a sheep.  

So what’s next? Well I’m starting a new health programme with my boot camp known as “Eat Clean, Train Dirty”. Not rocket science, just eat clean non-processed healthy foods and train as hard as your body will allow without breaking it. Simples.

The goal is six weeks to turn this slightly flabby relatively fit exoskeleton into a lean mean running burpeeing machine. So for the next six weeks it’s no booze, no takeaways, no sugar, no crap. Basically, if you were to mentally paint of picture of everything you like to eat as a treat, cross it off the list! Except for sheep…they are still allowed but only if you cook them first.

On the list are anything that grows, especially if it’s green, except marijuana, anything bloody with four legs, chickens (result), stuff that grows on trees, things that live in the sea (except Whales, whales are definitely not included. Nor penguins, too cute.) and finally anything that looks like water, tastes like water and basically, IS water!

It starts tonight, so in preparation I have gorged myself on shit for three days. Weighing in this morning at an all-time great of 73kg my goal is simple. Be strong in the head, work hard, eat clean, encourage others and just do your best!

I’ll be recording everything I eat plus all my exercise (except sex as the calorific loss is negligable) and I’ll be logging and blogging once a week, probably, if I can be arsed. So, if you’re not interested. Do one and go and eat a cream bun.J

Have fun, good luck and love to all the EcTd team, especially my training partner Mrs S xx

Jeremy Kyle, Everest and the Yeti

It’s been a long time, again, since I’ve updated my blog. Mainly because my blogs only get about 50 hits per hours so it’s really not worth the effort of blistering my fingertips tap tap tapping away on this poxy keyboard. Any case, who wants to read about an adventure seeking, egotistical, slightly backward wannabe Roux Jnr. That said, if you Google random blogs you will find many more dull and less interesting balderdash  blogs than the shite I’m about to write. Per example:

Kevin aged 18, Birmingham

“today I took my dog for a walk and it was windy and it was wet and my dog barked at a squirrel and the squirrel run away up a big tree and it was funny and then I went home and fingered my girlfriend and watched myself on the Jeremy thing show and laughed more and my dog barked at the TV when he saw me on it and it was well funny. Then my dog bit me so I hit my girlfriend in the face coz I hate her and all my mates shagged her when I went to the shop to buy a pizza and now she’s had a brown baby and I’m not sure if I’m the dad but I don’t care coz really I do luv her  l luv her so much, I luv her nearly as much as her sister who gave me a blowy on the toilet yesterday and her mum who is well fit and has lots of different blokes every night at her house cos she is so fit but she is not happy as she screams and moans  a lot and the other day I heard her shout f*ck me f*ck and I think she meant me and not the bloke from the council housing association who was inspecting her bedroom for bed lice or somink. I’m gonna bone her”….  

KEVIN

(I’m  now struggling to write something more interesting than Kevin. Dammit).

Yeti Head! Not every day you see one of those is it? Well I am one of the few to have had such an experience. I was on a Himalayan mountain, Everest in fact, alone, in a blizzard at 7,255m above sea level in November 2013. Visibility was down to 10m, storm force winds and ice ripping into my skin like a babies arse in a shot blaster, when the dark shadow appeared in front of me. At first I thought it was a Polar bear but there was not an Iceberg around for 1000 miles; then I thought it was a hairy bearded Nepalese woman but it was far too tall and not quite so smelly. Confused and dazed by altitude and not having eaten for 11 days I stupidly said “What are you”.  I was not expecting the reply that came.  It was the most ferocious roar that penetrated through my snow filled ears sending shivers down my spine and dropping me instantly to my knees….I shall never forgot those words………”I’m a f**ing Yeti”!!!! I shit my pants, literally, shit my pants. Fearing for my life and expecting any moment for the formidable and ferocious beast to tear me limb from limb I knew I had to stall him. Buy some time. First thing that came into my head I asked “What’s a nice bear type thing doing on a lovely mountain like this” and before he/she could answer I whipped out my 47 multi tool penknife and cut its fucking head right off!

THE MOUNTAIN

 

 

 

THE YETI (before I cut his f***ing head off)

After feasting on a few slivers of juicy warm brain flesh, I kicked the Yetis head all the way back down to base camp, obviously after a quick run to the summit and planting my Westham Flag on top of the world. Exhausted from all the kicking, I sat down on a Himalayan cactus for a rest which is where I met Tarquinii. Tarquinii was a middle aged bald bloke from Tibet who claimed people often refer to him as the Dalai Lama. Isn’t that some kind of horse / goat creature? What a weirdo! Anyway, we got talking and before you knew it we were both laughing at our stories of old, getting smashed in Thailand and ending up copping off with a lady boy and giving them the old crocodile Dundee treatment. That’s when he looked down and asked me what that thing was stuck to the end the end of my crampon. “Oh it’s just some old Yetis head that I cut off a few hours ago”.  His eyes popped out like ping pong balls on stalks; jeez he looked just like Grasshopper, for those that remember. Apparently old Lama and his ancestors have been on a quest to find the true mountain Yeti for over four centuries. Like I give a shit. I swapped him the head for a kit-kat chunky and off he went, holding what was really only a cracked up skull that looked a bit like the top of a hairy coconut shell.

I thought nothing more of it until later in my journey back to Lima I visited an historic and beautiful Sherpa temple and had to queue for 45 minutes and pay 500 Rupees to see an ancient and sacred Buddhist temple treasure.  As I entered the incense filled room  to the sound of Harry monks blowing a monotonous hum drum out of a conch shell,  I saw the sneaky little f**ker. 

HARRY MONKS BLOWING ONE OUT

 

 Dalai Lama aka Tarquinii smoking a cigar and counting dollar for showing off his friggin Yeti coconut head to Buddhist and tourists far and wide “Yeti slain by Sir Edmund Hillary”.

 

YETIS HEAD

 

Fair play Tarquinii you cheeky little scroat!!

That fateful day is where I stumbled across Roomie, my ginger bearded fellow mountaineer.

More adventures to follow…..

11 working days....

A warm quilt wrapped around my naked body, cup of sweet tea in hand, dog at the end of the bed licking herself.....only 11 more days at work and it's serious adventure time!

Great day up in the big smoke yesterday, usual smash and grab in Snow and Rock followed by a fat feast in China town. No beer, being a good lad in October, not one drop will pass my wind cracked lips. Purchased my new sexy boots. No, not thigh length leather, no not pink latex high heels, we're talking sexier..... La Sportiva Spantics oh yeahhh!!!

No chances being taken on this Himalaya adventure, I want to be warm as possible and hopefully not snapping off blackened frost bitten extremities and bringing them home in a sandwich bag to show the kids.

Had a good few weeks training. 105 miles of Coast 2 Coast across Scotland in 15 hrs57 mins, got smashed up proper in The Hurt race, man that was one hell of a hilly run and have been cycling to work, bit of gym, martial arts. All good stuff, all necessary!

Must get up now, shower and work. Have a good day all.

Sitting in bed, dreaming mountains...

Good morning to all my friends, family, lovers, haters, sheep shaggers and raving homosexuals. How you all doin'?

A short update to let you know I am still alive (I hear you disappointment) and still dreaming of cracking one off on the top of Everest! Been another mad few months in the life of the Smallster. Ramming sheep in Wales, North and South. Having my bell end and anus simultaneously electrocuted at Tough Guy Nettle Warrior. Getting drunk in the Swiss Alps and stalked by Peter Sutcliffe (when the fuck did he get out). Getting beaten up by women in the Dojo, once again. Having my ass bitten by my dog when we go running, playing shit golf, that sort of thing.

50k bike ride tomoz, for charity of course, and then smashing up a 100+ mile 48 hour coast 2 coast of Scotland next weekend with my buddy Robson Greenfingers. Supporting Alzheimers. It's gonna be Shwweet! Saddle sores, blisters, aching limbs and getting smashed. Triffic :-)

Work has kinda gotten in the way the last few months but that's about to be rectified. Only 6 weeks until the Himmalaya. Only 6 weeks until it's off to attempt Island Peak summit. Only 6  weeks until I embark on a journey to come face to face, toe to toe, eye to eye with my ultimate goal in life........it's all I dream about....I refuse to die until such time.....conquer or be conquered.

Much love. Enjoy the sunshine x

MUDRUNNER OBLIVION "Dirty Weekend" 2012

It’s Monday lunchtime as I sit at my desk; chomping on a sirloin steak drizzled with England’s finest mustard, lovingly nestled next to two fried eggs, easy over.  A protein overdose to repair my poorly calve muscles that were battered yesterday like a Whitby Cod in a deep fat fryer.

Mudrunner Oblivion is the cause for such drastic repair. A fearsome 10k in the amazing grounds of Eastnor Castle.  An event cancelled earlier in the year due to horrendous rain and storm force winds which was of course the correct call (despite a 3 ½ hour journey and sleepless overnight in the camper with billy big drops doing a tap dance on my hot tin roof!).  Rain, who cares, that’s why it’s mud runner right? but getting killed by fallen branches and re-naming it “Log Flume Death” is probably not the best marketing strategy and certainly not the best way to get repeat customers given that you’ve just killed a couple with a ten ton Oak. We move on….

Fair play to Mudrunner, they re-scheduled the event and instead of just being the one day Sunday free-for-all, you could do the race on Saturday or Sunday or take part in the “Filthy Weekend” and do both days all for the same price! Free camping in the deer park, camp fire Saturday night and a band (well solo artist) banging out classic tunes like Wonderwall, bit of Ed Sheran, Green Day, James. Cold Play, Travis etc. The dude was good!!  An inspired decision, almost festival like atmosphere and with kids (the junior Mudrunners),  having a great time too playing footie in the fields. My dog, among many others enjoying running around like a complete fruit loop that she is. Bang on the money!

Pumped and ready to smash it

So the event: Junior Oblivion, about 300 kids aged I guess from about 8 to about 14 dressed in spandex and donning free temporary tattoos on their arms, legs and face with slogans such us “Dirty Boy” , “ No Stopping” , “ Boom” were set for a 5K race. A few parents joined their kids. Of course I’m there with my boy to set the pace, push him on and most of all to be fair, have fun in some mud with my lad. It was awesome, the first 1k all uphill then into the mud, mud, mud, more mud, a few obstacles, more mud, water, mud, muddy water, cargo net, mud, wall climb, more muddy water, mud, hill, finish, …..and finally, the much anticipated, and appreciated …Tub Of Love (A large wood fire heated sponge filled outdoor bath).

Celebrating in the Tub Of Love

 A review from my boy “That was just awesome, so much better than I thought it would be….I wanna go again!!!! (Huge muddy smile on his face)”

Done, Junior Mudrunner medal display!

So, I escorted my off-spring back to the camper, threw him a towel, grabbed the wife and headed back to the start line for Mud Runner Oblivion Adult. 10K, same drill just bigger obstacles, bigger lakes, bigger hills and oh boy bigger mud swamps!

The Hill Start (Junior and Adult)

About 1,100 nutters start going up the huge hill. Staggered starts, 200 at a time five minutes between each wave. After the hill it’s into the forest for 8k non-stop undulating MUD! Thin mud, thick mud, clogging mud, dark mud, light mud, smelly mud, liquid mud and mud that was more like a parasite that just stuck to your hands and feet so you couldn’t make out the shape of your body parts.  At times you cross obstacles, not tough one’s but when you’re on your hands and knees in 12 inches of black/brown smelly s**t and can’t move….it’s tough…it’s cramp inducing and it’s just simply brilliant dirty fun.

At times the paths were very narrow and you get caught behind the walkers/resters, at times the muddy hills are so steep you slip up and slide down and at times the endless puddles of glupe just seem to go on, slowly chipping away at your calve muscles. Logs in water to jump over or dive under in my case, rope climb up a muddy steep bank, monkey bars with muddy hands  #impossible. You finish wading through two chest height lakes and over the 8ft timber wall with a race uphill to the finish and of course…the Tub of Love J

Goodie bag: Mars bar, crappy wooden block medal, decent T-shirt (all sizes), red-bull, water and a car sticker.

Overall: Brilliant event!!

Rating out of 10 = 8.5

Plus points: Brilliant organisation, enthusiastic marshals, brilliant course, exceptional value for money…..and oh sooooo much filthy mud!

Minus Points: Catering not too great (bring a picnic), Portaloos on camp as per norm stunk (bring some bog roll), bit too far from my house (no I’m not going to move).

Would I go again: Absolutely nailed on event for 2013…I’m there with wifey and son.

Note: I was fortunate to experience the “Filthy Weekend” after some very heavy rain and flooding. Next year it may not be so muddy and I believe it’s going back to the one day. I’ve asked them to make a whole weekend cos I just  love being damn filthy!!

Smally

First blog of the year.......

So as I write the plane bounces around, fasten seat belt light still on, the camp air steward bends in front of me revealing a Beckham'esk tight panty line. Do me a favour! He returns upright with a smile, a cold Heineken in hand.
You are forgiven Pedro. Pedro I think to myself, on a Ryan Air plane. Shouldn't you be called Mick or Shamus or something and why is Ryan Air blue and not green? And why are there no leprechauns on this flight. Weird. I double check my boarding pass to make sure I'm not on my way to Kazekstan to become goat fodder. All it well, Oslo Torp, destination confirmed.

So what am I doing here, apart from sitting next to a very pretty and buxom Norwegian lady wearing a V cut jumper and thigh length brown leather boots, probably reindeer skin. Well, i'm on my travels with the lads: Will from Wales, Mick and Paul from Essex, top geezers and Lord Cocks of Cocksville which is a made up name and title and he's from somewhere near Exeter! We're meeting Rob and Baggy, apparently a winter climbing legend at the airport for a three hour drive to Rjukan, the unofficial ice climbing capital of Europe. 5 days of climbing the famous heavy water of this part of the world. The place where Hitler took over the hydro production plant in an attempt to use the heavy water to make an Atom bomb to blow England off the face of the earth! The place were a crack team of British and Norwegian special forces sabotaged his plans and blew up the distillery making the Heavy water. The birth place of the WW2 "Hero's of Telemark". I bow down to you sirs, if it wasn't for these brave and committed true hero's I would not be here in my current state. I would be a deformed sperm glowing green in a shrivelled scroat sack next to the other three and a half scroat sacks of my two headed radio active parent.

Ice climbing, that's what I'm doing here. Five days of climbing the frozen waterfalls of the upper and lower gorge of Rjukan. Never done it before so exciting times ahead pushing my upper body and calves to their limits of self destruction. Had to put the guide book down, reading the safety page which states at least 1500 people have died in avalanche and collapsed ice pillars in Norway. WTF did they have to say that for? I know it's dangerous, that's why I'm doing this shit, but hopefully you are reading this as a living blog and not an obituary, crying with sorrow at the loss of such an epic and illiterate writer of life experience and general bollocks. If you are reading this as the latter...have no fear, I have already lived a life....Mum, Pen. Ben, Kirsty and all my family I love you but don't be upset, it was bound to happen sooner or later xxx Friends, look after my family or I will come back as a haunted spectre of billy goats gruff and rape your pets!

I've not blogged for a while. Not really been up to much exciting really. Just normal ordinary day to day mundane crap. Full on snowy ascent of Blenkethra, run up Snowdon, scrambled Tryfan, Carneddau disaster x 2, run the Grim, the Grim night terror, Hell runner, Tough Guy smashed the Yorkshire three peaks, passed gradings in both jKD Jun Fan and Phillipino Kali and generally been travelling the UK in the sexiest thing on four wheels, my best ever spontaneous purchase, the delectable and damn right horny Chill Mobile.

It is one beast of a camper...drive where you want, when you want, stop, sleep and shit where you want. I love it ta bits! It is almost like an extension to my family. First night I slept in it alone in a remote car park in North Yorkshire, blinds down, scallops sizzling in the pan, Radiohead on the I-pod dock, I though this is just heaven. How more relaxed can you get. Not just horizontal but horizontal and floating.

Anyway, about to land soon so a little antidote to conclude this blog of what sometimes goes on in the warped and not quite normal head of mine. So I'm in the car park right, in a local village, it's dark, it's very remote, not a sole around, middle of winter, I'm happy. I hear a noise outside, sounds like a car, 11.05pm. Mmmm, why would you park up? Kids pulling over to skin up maybe, perhaps car jackers gonna try and smash their way in... or is it doggers. I've heard about dogging, a couple pull up in their cars, turn the vanity lights on and join their sexual parts together in a form of exercise and mutual exchange of shuddering body fluids. Whilst this is going on men, generally old perverts jump out of bushes and wank all over the windscreen. Or so I'm lead to believe.

So this image haunts me, I can hear someone outside. What to do, get my dick out and go and have a watch, turn the I-pod up and pretend it's not happening, grab a knife....! I ponder, ok let's take a look, cock firmly still placed well and truly in my knickers. I turn the interior lights off and open the blinds....I was half expecting to see an old bloke in a mack holding a pathetically shrivelled penis in his hand and a 1970's camcorder in the other...or, even worse, a 50 something MILF with big hair and red lipstick smeared all over her face staring through the window with a hand full of KY jelly and a 12" black dildo strapped to her head!

I won't tell you what I actually saw when I pulled that blind up! I'll leave you to ponder and wander through your own imagination!

Must go now...gay lord Pedro is telling me off......

Laters...bring on the Ice! Ice! Baby!

Another Crazy Ass Year......

They say you should always set yourself a target at the start of each year. A goal to hit, a dream to fulfil. As always, I think I've done this to the extreme. A little snap shot of what's in store for 2012 for the crazymeister. You can follow progress on face book and twitter @crazymeister

spot of ironing on top of Kili....

January
Endurance Event: Tough Guy

February
Norway Ice Climbing
Race: Icebreaker Duathlon
Night Race: The Grim, Night Terror

March
Winter Mountaineering Scotland : Aonach Eagach Ridge, Ben Nevis via Tower Ridge, Ring of Steel
Race: Sole Destroyer
Race: Bath Half Maraton
Endurance Event: Exmoor Ultra 40 Mile - TBC (only if training goes as planned / injury free)

April
India Ocean, scuba diving and advanced PADI
Race: London Marathon

May
Endurance Event: 112 mile self supported run of entire Jurrasic Cost in 72 hours
Endurance event: Welsh 3,000 Challenge. All 15 mountains over 3,000 ft in 18 hours or less.

June
Charity Event: London 26/26/26 Challenge
Mountaineering :Wales,Island Peak Training
Endurance Event:Lake District 42 Peak Challenge Bob Graham Round.
Totally Bonkers Event: Spain, Camino Del Rey via ferrata, dubbed the scariest in the world!

July
Endurance Event: Hadrians Wall, solo run, self supported 84 miles

August
Hike: Swiss Alps Haute Route Arolla to Zermatt

September
Nokia Coast 2 Coast - 105 mile bike, run and kayak across Scotland in 48 Hours
Mountaineering: France/Italy - Ascent of Mont Blanc 4,810m Highest in Western Europe

October / November
Expedition: Nepal, Himaylayas -  to climb Kala Patar (5,545m), base camp Everest and ultimately the ascent of Island Peak (6,189m)
Race: Survival of the fittest, London


December
The Grim and a bit of a rest 

Island Peak

Happy New Year

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Here's to a happy, healthy and damn right crazy 2012

Best wishes

Simon

Doing Something Crazy...in the Kitchen

Ok people, most of you know I love a good adventure race, knee deep in mud and frozen water. I also love a good mountain. Nothing more refreshing than being thrown over a two foot cornice to dig an avalanche pit in a Scottish blizzard :-) Oh yeah baby! But, there is a sensible side to me that loves to cook, to eat healthy. I'm no saint; yes I love a beef pattie slapped between a bun from a well known fast food outlet beginning with Mmmmmmmmm but only on the odd occasion, usually when I'm on the hoof. No I don't ride horses. Also, where would Wednesday night be without a curry takeaway. Well still between Tuesday and Thursday I guess but it is my weakness on what is generally a healthy eating week.

Every January, I go extreme alas, no change there. I have this diet stricter than my primary school teacher that sellotaped me to my chair..those were the days. You do that now and she's be called a kiddy fiddling, bullying, child abusing masochistic pervert, stripped of her job, house, splashed all over the Sunday rag and slammed up for six months with manic depressive self harming lesbian. Anyway, it clearly did me no harm. Anyone want to hit my willy with a stinging nettle?

Now where was I, oh yeah my detox. Seriously, this shit works. I eat a diet at of fish, brown rice, fruit, nuts, pulses, goats cheese and that's about it. No caffeine, no wheat, no dairy, no meat although I do cheat and eat chicken sometimes, no sugar, no refined foods, NO F***ING ALCOHOL grrrr. Basically if hasn't just been dug up (no I don't do necrophilia), picked, or caught I generally try to avoid it. Lemon tea, cold shower, fruit smoothie and oats with soya milk to start the day. Tuna salad for lunch, Salmon with jackpot or brown rice for tea with a crumble of goats cheese and some leeks to jazz it up. You get the picture.

Now it can get boring, tedious, damn right monotonous at times but you have to stay strong. You have to imagine you are eating a raw steak off a naked lady. Use some imagination, what ever floats your boat and tickles your testicles or niggles your noona for the ladies.

After a few weeks, combined with a healthy sleep pattern, exercise and relaxation you feel amazing. Truly. Alive and alert like a new person, all ready to "TOX" for the next eleven months. Yeah!

If you fancy it, give it a go. As my last blog, I'll be posting some of my kitchen dishes and ideas for you to have a go at. You don't have to follow them, just maybe take a little inspiration from them and tweak them to make them you own.

Have fun in the kitchen, it's not a place for chores. It a place to express yourself, have some fun and promote your health and happiness for 2012. Hope you enjoy my dishes or those that come from your own imagination. Be lucky x

Foil steamed salmon with spiced butternut squash, saute peppers and brown rice

Foil steamed salmon with spiced butternut squash, sauté

peppers and brown rice

Serves two, allow 1 hour from chopping board to plate.

What you need:

Ø  Two fresh salmon fillets, skinned and pin boned

Ø  Half a medium sized butternut squash

Ø  Three bell peppers, red, yellow, orange…forget green!

Ø  1 Medium Leek

Ø  1 Lemon

Ø  1 Small onion

Ø  Small handful of fresh dill

Ø  Two garlic cloves

Ø  Tilda Butternut squash 2 minute brown rice (or cook your own)

Ø  Good few glugs of olive oil

Ø  Salt and pepper

Ø  About a level teaspoon of mild curry power

Ø  Half a medium glass of white wine or vegetable stock

Ø  Tin Foil

What to do:

1.      Preheat to oven to 190c or 170c for a fan assisted jobbie

2.      Peel and de-seed the butternut squash and cut into equal chunks about the size of a sugar cube. Place in a roasting tin.

3.      Glug olive oil over the butternut, don’t be shy. Make sure it’s all coated the season with salt and pepper and even sprinkle over the curry powder then toss around the roasting tin

4.      Peel and slice the two garlic cloves lengthways and lay over the butternut

5.      Place in the hot over for 35 minutes and toss around once or twice whilst cooking

6.      Next, trim the leeks then half lengthways and slice as fine as you can…watch those fingers!

7.      Cut four slices off the lemon, reserving the rest and place on the leeks

8.      Tear the dill into bits and place on the leeks leaving a few sprigs for garnish  

9.      Place the fish on the leeks and season well with salt and pepper

10.   Pull off a strip of tin foil double arms length. Fold together, end to and, then fold in half again. Tightly fold three sides over to form a sort of envelope making sure you leave one side open. This should form a double skinned pocket.

11.  Open up the pocket carefully and place in the leeks, lemon, dill, salmon then add the wine or stock and then fold over and seal this end. The parcel should now be completely sealed. Don’t tighten parcel too much as the air inside needs to expand when cooking to steam the fish.

12.   Once the butternut squash has been in the over for 35 minutes, move it over to one half of the roasting tin and add the salmon parcel on the other. Continue cooking for a further 20 – 25 minutes for just cooked pink, moist and delicious salmon

13.  In the mean time, cut and slice the onions and the bell peppers

14.   8 minutes before the salmon is ready, sauté the onions in some olive oil for three minutes then add the peppers for a further five. Stir and season.

15.  The Tilda rice can be nuked for 2 minutes. I know this is not best treatment for rice but it’s quick, convenient and pretty tasty to be fair.

16.  To bring it all together serve the rice to one side, in a mould shape if you want to chef it up.

17.  Place the peppers on the other side and the butternut squash cubes in the middle.

18.  Cut open the foil bag carefully from the top and very carefully fish slice out the salmon, leeks and lemon and place on top of the peppers.

19.  The dress, you can add a balsamic and olive oil rocket salad and a sprig of dill either on the fish or the rice. Enjoy!!

 

Brought to you by SMALL WONDERS

Goal Posts forever moving, forever getting smaller, forever getting harder to hit the target

I love it when crazy shit happens; especially when I’m controlling it, promoting it, embracing it with open arms. Pushing the boundaries mentally, physically without emotion. Striving for the next hit of pain, torture and endurance.

The trait of a masochist, mind set of  a lunatic, body of a gently ageing 42 year old Essex boy that still has time on his hands before his body says “f**k right off chap”!

And why not, someone give me a reason? I love life and I love to live. I don’t like to conform to the norm, I’ll never ever be a member of the pipe and slippers brigade. Sometimes, well most times I need to release my inner energy on some crazy shit mountains, insane adventure race , martial arts or just something that’ll give me a buzz. It’s not adrenalin seeking, it’s called “Lust for Life”.

It is a fact the more you do, the fitter you feel, the more you want to do. If you do a 6 mile run, next you want to do a six mile run in the mud, then you want to do a six mile run in mud, snow and freezing water , then you want to do a  six mile run in mud, snow, freezing water in the dark! It just goes on, where does it stop.

I know when I will stop: 1) When I’ve run the Four Desert Ultra Marathon series and 2) Summited Everest. Then, and only then will I feel I  have fulfilled my ambitions, able to die a happy man knowing I have lived, loved, provided and achieved.

So lot’s of build up stuff already completed, mountains around the world, marathons, lots of adventure races, Tough Guy…that’s worth a mention alone. More to come of course, loads of adventure races for 2012, ice climbing, Alps, Himalayas, endurance hikes like Jurrasic Coast and Hadrians Wall, marathons, ultra marathons, Coast 2 Coasts  and FFS Tough Guy again in January. Looking forward to hypothermia once again L like a priest looks forward to a visit from the child protection agency.  It’s all very basic human nature to me, life, well life…..

“Life is like a box of fireworks ……….Well that’s all I wanted to say about that…..”

Doing Something Crazy

A Crazy Month, Crazy Morocco and totally bonkers Marrakesh!!!

Been a crazy month really, no change there I cry to myself. Busy at work….yes I do work you doubting Thomas bell ends. Run the Royal Parks half, wild camped with my lad in the forest of Essex, climbed the second highest mountain in the United Kingdom Ben Macdui, watched the mighty Hammers maintain 2^nd in the league, trained for Beachy Head fell marathon and then I get this e-mail from my mountain instructor

“I am heading off to Morocco on Monday for a 1 week trip to climb Toubkal. Unfortunately one member of the team has had to pull out and so his space is available at the last minute”

My reaction was instantaneous “Wifey, I love you, love love you, love  love love you, bestest wifey in the whole wide world kissey kiss kiss”.  

12 hours later, huge bouquet, champagne and thank you card duly purchased and delivered to my lovely wife and I’m getting packed to break the back of the highest mountain in North Africa. Get in you beauty!!

48 hours before I’m leaving on a jet plane my rucksacks are packed. Sitting by the front door like a panting dog waiting to go and sniff a pissy lamp post, Jaffa Cake tubes bulging from the side pockets.  You know what I think to myself….. I love life!

Monday morning comes and it’s a drive to Gatwick, park and ride, check in, order a beer, kick back and smile. I arrive at Marrakesh airport early. The rest of the crew are arriving from Manxchester and their flight has been delayed. With hours to kill my mind immediately turns to one thing…beer???  Momentarily forgetting Marrakesh is an Arab country with tight restrictions on the purchase and consumption of alcohol, searching for the elusive elixir of life could be problem.  It appears not, as long as you go upstairs to the café and are willing to pay £8 for a bottle of Sol you can drink happily away. I’m not a tight git by any stretch but £8 for a bottle of Sol….I made my beer last longer than one of Willy Wonkers gob-stoppers in a Thai whore house.

After a few wasted hours watching Arab men in wizard suits waving name placards at unsuspecting arrivals, the airport begins to clear and out come the floor washing team. Now this is a big sparse marble floored airport so the wishy-washy brigade go about their systematic cleaning. A bloke in a white wizard suit has a big wheeled bowser full of water and a bucket.  He randomly throws water everywhere. His troop of oversized broom wielding hoppos then form a line and mop till they drop. Mighty effective if a little primitive.

9.50pm the gang pass through the sliding doors of arrival and we meet and greet. Rob, Paul, Martin, Mickey, Naomi, Steve, Vic and Andy. A motley ensemble of budding mountaineers with an apparent job lot of Mountain Equipment holdalls.

We are greeted by Muhammad, our driver who delivers us to the remote mountain village of Imlil. 90 minutes of pot holed dark mountain roads, hair pin bends and precipitous drops – nice!

We must be near to our accommodation when on an uphill bend the road is blocked by a recently and inconveniently dumped spoil heap. Mohammed utters something about Allah under his breath and backs the mini bus up and orders us out in the rain. It’s pitch black and we don’t really know what’s going on. We’re all startled as a corrugated shed door opens behind us and an overpowering  smell of donkey semen emanates. We can just make out a shadow as a bloke dressed like Borat pops out from the darkness of the shed and says "Heello Sexy Ladies...". OMG, does he sleep with his donkeys…..are we sleeping with his donkeys……what the….!

It turns out he is the head muleteer, the man that “loves” his mules, well loves to whack them round the head with a stick to get them moving. He walks us up a dark muddy and rocky path to our refuge. A stone three-storey building. We are greeted with a warm smile and ushered in where we are shown to our bedroom; mine being a sofa clad lounge with massive pillows that I’ll share with three others. It’ll do. Its gone midnight and we’re all a bit jaded.

Before the sleeping bags are unfurled, to our surprise the guardian takes us to a dining room, set for dinner. These lads are gonna feed us first. Top shout! Mint Tea (a sweet mix of green tea, mint and fag butts) Orange coloured soup, goat tagine (probably) and tinned fruit consumed in an elaborately decorated and hand crafted room was not what we expected. A good start by any ones standards (except of course the rich, famous or fussy). By the way, did I ever tell you about the time I was on Masterchef……..haha…

So, fed and watered time for bed. Now if I had known then, what I know now I would have cherished the silence and tranquillity of mild snoring, occasional farting and the 4.30am load speaker wallah wallah man waking up the entire village for morning prayer. This I was soon to find out would be considered a “quiet” night.

Morning was broken by the waking cockerel. Mine was unusually limp; apparently this is due to the adjustment to altitude. Breakfast of bread and Dairy Lea and our mules arrived to carry our kit backs to the refuge Toubkal Les Mouflons high up in the mountain pass at the base of big Atlas 4,000’s.

We needed some basic supplies for a spot of lunch so went to the supermarket. Waitrose eat your heart out. The butcher on the corner was an open plan stone hut with fly attractive meat hanging in the open air, bloodied chopping block and cleaver by his side. The green grocer was a shed full of boxes and random odd looking limp vegetables and the baker, well we walked straight past it….not to be mistaken for just a very small dark stone room with a stone hole acting as a customer service desk. An unmistakable must of donkey piss filled the air. The mini market was small but OK, all tinned and processed produce so we settled for cheese. Bread and Dairy Lea for lunch it is then, again! Looovely……or is that the Philadelphia advert?  

We head off up the village, fending off offers of rugs, fake silver trinkets, coloured stones and general Arab artefacts. We head back down the village having gone the wrong way fending off offers of rugs, fake silver trinkets, coloured stones and general Arab artefacts. We find the correct track to the mountain pass and once again head off up the village, fending off offers of rugs, fake silver trinkets, coloured stones and general Arab artefacts.

Once out of Imlil, the route up was amazing. Huge snow capped peaks popping out from low-slung cumulus. Dotted timber huts serving cold drinks, mint tea and local snacks. Giving way only to passing pack mules we sauntered to the refuge stopping once or twice for refreshments. The orange man near the top, eight fresh oranges hand pressed into each glass – sweet, fresh and delicious. I’m loving this! A local muleteer, ancient with few teeth passes us by. He grabs a clean upturned glass from the orange mans tray, collects water from a hose dripping from a low wall, quenches his thirst and returns the glass upturned to the clean tray. Mmmmm, maybe my glass has also been shared with a man who fell out with his dentist 65 years ago and has halitosis rivalled only by a rabid dog that has just lovingly cleaned its genitals.

Eventually, the refuge meets our eyes like a stone prison emerging from the surrounding rock. As we near, smoke emanates from the grey chimney. It’s chilly; a nice room with a roaring fire would be a welcome treat.

We are welcomed and treated to a FREEZER type bedroom room, very similar to Kibo hut at base camp Kilimanjaro. A big stone block with two massive wooden bunk beds eaching sleeping four in a row top and bottom and with touching ½ inch thick mattresses, a window the size of a lever arch file, except the window didn’t have a lever and a small light. We switched the light on…ahhh no electricity…head torch it is then. I took a top bunk up against a wall thereby instantly reducing my chance of getting bummed by 50% and the rest of the crew shuffled into their respective cots. If the room had a star rating, I would say minus two but to be fair I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by two Thai girls offering a body body massage whilst feeding me grapes and sucking the jam from between my toes. This was a mountain refuge in North Africa so deal with it head dick!

After I had unpacked i.e. dumped all my shit on the spare mattress next to me, we went for dinner. Nice dining room, similar to the bedroom but tables instead of beds but it did have a fire….being hogged by Germans as if it was a sunbed, oh well. Food was great, honest….Orange soup and flat bread to start which to be fair by day six become a little tedious helped only by large doses of extra Tabasco sauce to fire it up and make your nose dribble into your spoon. But the mains, seriously they were good, Chicken tagine with figs and dates, chicken tagine with preserved lemon, Couscous (said in a thick scouce accent…luv you Mikey)…..ok so the spag bol was shite. My advice chef, stick to what you know…J

It was a cosy first night, getting to know each other round a table wrapped in blankets donning head torches. It was less cosy getting to know each other in a freezing dorm wrapped in a sleeping bag listening to snoring, coughing, extreme nose blowing and of course farting. It’s a fact no matter how old you are, farting is still funny!

So I didn’t sleep much, in fact I didn’t sleep much the entire trip but when you get up and glance at the mountains you’re about to explore, the tiredness instantly evaporates. It’s replaced by a sense of excitement, adventure, adrenalin and just an awe inspiring feeling of all round happiness in a bubble of tranquillity. That’s why I love mountains!

Well I’m not going to dwell on the individual mountain days but they were all truly special and amazing. From sitting on the top of a col overlooking 100 miles of the lower Atlas and the Sahara desert to topping out on a stormy Toubkal, a snowy Raz , a chilly Timguiza and climbing a snow gully now named “Debbie’s Crack” it was all special. Great company, good laughs and the most breath taking scenery. One word “totally stunning”. Yes I know that’s two words but just “stunning” on it’s own just doesn’t cut it.

I have the most amazing pictures of our time in the mountains so here are a few: I took almost 400!!!

After we had been up Debbie’s Crack, and that’s not a euphemism, we sunbathed in the snow, and oh how we laughed when the lads filled my rucksack with rocks and cross-threaded all my straps. But during this moment of merriment we decided to sack the last night in the refuge and head to Marrakesh for a night of insanity staying at a rhiad in town.  My Allah we were not disappointed. For those of you that have never been: Take Covent garden, double it, add 2000 people, half fill it with food stalls selling sheep’s brain tagine and BBQ’d donkeys bollocks (probably), mix in some spice, chuck in handful of dancing cobras, turn the lights off, drive a load of motorbikes through it and you have the Medina of Marrakesh!!!! TOTALLY TOTALLY BONKERS…….it was perfect!!!

We ate; very well I have to say. A mixed street stall BBQ meal of chicken, lamb, beef, shrimps liver with salad, rice and donkeys bollocks (probably). We skipped the sheep’s brain. It looked OK but I was put off by the boiled head staring at me with these big herbivorous gnashers. I swear when they chopped the little feckers head off he was smiling. Probably had one of the locals up him at the time Bahhhh. Jealousy will get you nowhere Mr Small!

We ended the trek as all good treks should end. We got totally hammered! A taxi to the new town, rooftop hotel bar, four bottles of your finest red please treacle….hammer time! Of course finished the night in the usual style, midnight jump in the pool, KFC, lose your wallet, done!

The next morning, my eyes opened about three hours before the lights come on in my head and it was off for some spontaneous haggling in the colourful exotic realm of the covered market. I bought my usual array of totally useful and practical items: A hooded wizard cape, some goat fur and camel pointed slippers, a wooden stick carved like a cobra, some fake silver trinkets, some stuff you rub on you that makes you smell nice but in reality it makes you smell like a prostitute, an imitation amethyst rock, a wooden snake oh and of course enough mojule dates to sink the entire Spanish Armada.  Note to self: Don’t go shopping with hangover as you will come home with lots of expensive shit that you will never use (although I did greet the wife in my wizard cape and slippers which was nice J ).

So that’s it really, shopping done, airport, man hugs, home.

Great time, great company, amazing amazing place. Til next time Morocco. ……..The Smallster will be back!