We left Todi and had a mammoth drive through Italy, Switzerland and France. It was slated to be 10 hours of driving, but things didn’t go to plan.

Leaving Todi, we hit Italian rush hour which was a bit interesting and I had to concentrate hard to avoid the other cars. It felt like the worst of London driving. We made it to Florence quite quickly though where we’d planned a quick stop to post some postcards that we’d not managed to get stamps for. Well, that was the plan. Our detour into Florence took an hour, going through some beautiful sights and via the main sorting office (that doesn’t sell stamps). Eventually, I dropped Sean off next to the main train station and kept running circles around the block until he came back. Turns out the train station sells stamps…

The weather closed in on us at this point, with heavy rain following us up all the way to Milan. Far from being an interesting and fun drive, this was a hard slog. It wasn’t until we started up into the mountains that the rain eased off a little, but we rapidly hit the clouds and so our progress was slowed down once more. We were aiming for the Gottard tunnel and after weaving my way around queues of lorries, we finally got there.

The tunnel is, I’m sure, a feat of engineering. I certainly appreciated it for that. The drive, though, is boring. It’s a tunnel. Think of the Limehouse link, only 15 miles long and you’re pretty much there. There is, however, a radio station broadcasting inside the tunnel with emergency information, which I thought was quite nifty, though it’s not signposted well enough for someone driving along the motorway.

We came out of the Gottard tunnel and started the journey towards France. It felt like we were past the crux now…which was the wrong feeling, since about 10 minutes north of the tunnel, we hit a traffic jam. There was traffic as far as the eye could see and it was all stationary. After sitting there for a few minutes I turned the engine off, as did everyone else. Within minutes, the road was packed solid in both directions and we settled down for a long wait, with no idea what was going on. Luckily, we’d packed some food for the journey, so we had somethign to eat. It was quite surreal – high in the Swiss mountains, in a picturesque valley with chalets all around us….and cows. Now, I though the Swiss cow bell was a cute little tourist trinket. Turns out, they actually use them. So we’re sat there with a herd of cows next to us, all of which wear bells. Who knew – after a while, that noise gets intensely irritating.

Eventually, after about two hours of delay we got going again – the road narrowed ahead due to roadworks and just at the entrance were some fresh skidmarks and broken glass by the side of the road – which answered the question of what was going on.

By this point the journey wasn’t so much fun as “let’s just get there”. We were both ready to go home and it was only necessity that made us stop in some services just inside Switzerland near the French border. We were starving and needed something, even if it was service-station sandwiches. What we got was just incredible.

We walked in and looked around, getting our bearings. To our right was the restaurant which, at ten o’clock local time, I was expecting to be closed – but it wasn’t. We shrugged and wandered over, before being assaulted by an incredible array of sights and aromas. They had a number of areas, each selling a different kind of freshly cooked food. We looked on in amazement and chose Chicken Cordon Bleu which they cooked in front of us. It wasn’t a five star restaurant, but it was certainly something that Little Chef and Moto could learn from. It sure as hell was not Burger King or McDonalds.

We set off again and got to the hotel just around midnight, having had to call them en route to find out why they weren’t where TomTom said they should be – turns out this is a common problem and her first question was “Do you have satellite navigation?”. She gave us directions from there to a village with the same name as the street we were on about 2 miles away. Reception had closed down for the night when we arrived – this was a small local hotel and our keys were waiting for us on a piece of paper with my name badly mis-spelt.

Thursday morning, a quick breakfast after not enough sleep and we set off again, determined to have a better day. The weather agreed and after some patchy showers, opened up into a beautiful if slightly windy day. We make great progress through the French motorways and hit Calais almost 2 hours earlier than our ferry. A quick stop in a supermarket to take advantage of the cheap diesel and we drove down to the terminal. Without blinking we got put on the next possible ferry leaving in about 30 minutes and we mooched around for a bit admiring the drugs dogs at work. We even managed to get BBC Kent on the radio. We both smiled – I think we were both glad to be going home at this point.

We had a lovely dinner on the ferry – we stood outside Langan’s Brasserie for a bit before threw caution to the wind and decided to end the holiday in style with steaks on the way home. Very nice indeed, as was the creme brulee and, by this time, it was nice to have English accents around us.

It was getting dark by the time we got to Dover and with a reminder from TomTom to drive on the left again, we were back on British soil. Not quite home yet though – we drove to Slough where I met up with some of my work colleagues for a conference the following day. I was far mroe tired than I expected and on Friday, by lunchtime, I was falling asleep in the comfort of the conference and decided that I wasn’t doing any good here. I took off, met up with Sean in Leicester Square for some lunch and we drove home.

We both had an absolutely awesome time and certainly clocked up some miles. I’d like to do something similar again, though in a more comfortable car and with more time to spend in each place. Brussels was lovely and we want to go back there. We never really saw Zurich, and Strasbourg was a lovely surprise. I’m not sure I’d want to drive in Italy again – the other drivers make it very stressful. We’re already putting ideas together as to our next one, suggestions so far include the UK, north or eastern Europe and the USA/Canada.

Anyway, Sean and I have been planning a trip to Italy for a few months now and it’s almost here. Tomorrow afternoon, I leave work and drive to Cardiff to pick Sean up. The next time we’ll see the house, we’ll have drive through Belgium, Luxembourg, France, a bit of Germany, Switzerland and Italy.

I am, understandably, somewhat excited. Internet access has been sorted despite Vodafone being useless – thankfully, 3 are targetting users wanting some decent data rates at the moment, so I have a 3 SIM in my laptop’s built-in 3G card. It’s PAYG so I won’t come home to a £300 phone bill and it means that I can keep a record of the trip on my blog.

I’m just waiting for clothes to dry now and hoping the weather will last…

Update: Track my travels on Dopplr

Every organisation has its own internal politics – it’s just how life is. Some play power games, some want money, some build empires, and some just want to get on with the job. Politics in voluntary organisations can be particularly bad – it’s not that surprising when you get a bunch of people together who all believe passionately enough in a cause to donate that amount of time and effort. It’s the main reason I stopped my work with the First Responders – between the voluntary side and the involvement with the ambulance service, there was just too much politics. Mountain Rescue in this area has traditionally had some interesting politics, but never let it get in the way of the job.

So when Mountain Rescue politics did kick up last week, it caught me by surprise and annoyed me. More than that, it blindsided Sean. As a result he’s now announced that he’s no longer interested in joining the team, which is a shame – I was really looking forward to working with him on jobs and seeing him do well on the team.

Thing is, it’s got me thinking and has got me pretty angry right now. Do I really want to be part of a wider organisation who can treat people like that? I love the job that we do, I love getting in there and doing the job, and I know that 99% of the people in the organisation are there to do the same as I am – get on with rescuing people. But I find myself questioning my membership over the event. I’m sat here at the moment while there’s a rescue going on a few valleys away thinking about my membership and my commitment and other things – my hayfever, my contribution. Hayfever’s stopped me halway out the door today because I realised that if I wandered up a hill with the pollen this thick, I’d be collapsing in a heap of mucus, sneezes and wheezes before I reached the casualty. No drugs can stop that amount of pollen from affecting me.

So my head’s in a mess with a million different thoughts going through it right now. I’m damn well sure however, that I’m not going to let politics or the team come between Sean and I.

Postscript: I toyed with the thought of posting this for a while. I’m aware that several people will read it and feel like I’m airing the organisations dirty laundry in public. However, I feel strongly that since I started this blog that I would comment on the things that I came across that mattered to me, whether positive or not.

Well, OK, he’s lived here over the various University holidays over the past three years, but as of this Saturday, he’s finished his degree. He’s packing up the last of his things and throwing them in the back of his still-new-to-him car and bringing them here.

Am I excited? Am I fuck. I’m bouncing.

There is, however, the small logistical matter of where the hell we’re going to put his crap. Because folks, I have a lot of crap. The office has recently been semi-emptied – that is, we’ve gone through all of the tat in there, put up some shelves, filled the shelves with tat we can’t bear to throw out, thrown out shitloads of tat and shoved the rest in the corner or into the spare room. The other day, you know, that day. The Day Mal Got Married*. Well, he was staying in the spare room given that his bride to be was staying in their place. So, I had to reorganise and it turns out it’s not quite so much of a Tardis as I’ve been treating it.

So, I have a feeling that some general reorganising is going to have to be done in the house when he comes home. But that’s just logistics.

Right now, I’m just looking forward to spending evenings snuggling on the sofa watching Gray’s Anatomy. Or Casualty. Or the Bill. Or something.

* Oh God but this deserves a post of its own, just as soon as I’ve nicked some pictures to illustrate because I, like the idiot best man I was, did not take a single picture all night. Seriously.

So when I was sat in the office today and one of the managers walked in and said “I’ve got flowers for you Aled.” my initial thoughts were “Yeah, right, whatever.” Failing miserably to spot the punchline I looked up as he put the flowers next to me and handed me the card – it had my name on it. WTF?

Suspecting I knew who’d sent them, I opened the card to find a note from Sean. I won’t regurgitate the whole thing here, but suffice to say it was sweet and thoughtful and I rapidly turned purple as everyone watched. The flowers are beautiful, the thought and emotion behind it far more so. I think that I’m a very lucky man.

Of course, me being a geek, my first thought was “I should take a picture of this so I can blog it…”

Figuring that time was running out for Sean and I to have a break this year, I booked some time off (just a few days) and we packed the car and left. We had a vague plan – some friends in Betws Y Coed and my sister on Anglesey, but beyond that we could do anything. We packed a tent and everything we’d need just to pitch up for a few nights, filled the car up with diesel and headed off, L-plates stuck on the car and Sean firmly behind the wheel (and me in the passenger seat feeling very nervous).

We started off well with Sean driving quite well. However, it rapidly became apparent that we had to get to Sean’s mother faster than he could reasonably be expected to drive so we swapped quickly and set off up to Llangorse where she was attending a singing camp. Glorious sunshine greeted us as we arrived at what was in fact a very waterlogged campsite but the sunshine boded well for our trip. Toddling off up towards Brecon we hit the A470 and after stopping for tea and scones at Builth Wells, Sean drove us up to Betws Y Coed where we stopped overnight. Over dinner we made our plans for the morrow and the plan we’d decided on was something I’ve been meaning to do for a long time – Crib Goch. However, it wasn’t to be. As part of The Plan, I decided that a weather report was in order. The MetOffice however scuppered our plans (well, I suppose they didn’t themselves…) with a report of 55mph gusts on “exposed ridges”. I think Crib Goch qualifies as that. So we changed our plans and headed into Betws Y Coed instead. It turned into quite a nice day and we ended up taking a drive up through Pen Y Pass and down into Llanberis. A quiet bite at the famous Pete’s Eats and we headed back up to Pen Y Pass where I took the two pictures above. The top one is of Crib Goch from the back of Pen Y Pass. The bottom one is of the weather report as it was at the entrance to the cafe. Standing there taking the first photograph, I have to admit, I was glad we hadn’t attempted the ridge – I had to use a nearby wall to steady my hands in the wind and it would have been significantly stronger at the top.

After a few days around Betws, we headed up to see my sister. It was good to see the kids again, although my sister ended up feeling quite ill, so we spent some time around the house. Despite the lack of walking, Sean and I had a great time. We spent the entire time with limited internet access – at some points with limited access to any kind of communications at all. I barely fired up my computer – no work for any of the organisations I work with. Absolute bliss.

We drove home today – well, Sean drove a fair bit of it. He’s getting pretty good, though he’ll need some more practice before he goes for his test. I’m relaxed, unwound and ready to get back to work tomorrow. What more can you ask?

After doing my Ambulance shift on Saturday, I headed up to Aberystwyth. Sean and I headed out to a Greek restaurant in town, where I think I surprised the waitress by actually knowing what I was ordering and pronouncing it fairly accurately too. It was a cracking meal and as Sean and I were relaxing in his room later on, the pager went off for the first time in a while. This one was for a search in Penarth for a missing elderly gentleman. Weighing up the options, I decided to not attend – it would be a 100-mile journey to base, 2 hours minimum. Not really worth it – a decision that’s becoming harder to make with rising fuel prices, since I have to pay for my own diesel for going to callouts.

The search continued into the early hours when it was stood down – the team had an ex on Sunday which was supposed to go ahead until the pager went off again at 1000 – a continuation of the previous nights’ callout. Whilst my colleagues were scouring scrubland in South Wales, I was eating ice cream and relaxing on the beach in Mid Wales (sorry guys!). The afternoon peace was broken by another pager message – this time for an area call in the waterfalls which finished fairly quickly. With the afternoon dying away, the search was finally stood down and I enjoyed a peaceful night.

Until last night when, as I was pulling away from Tesco’s, the pager went off. I headed up to base, vaguely concerned about my frozen pizza in the boot. Once there, I found that we had a sighting of a flare in or around the Ystradfellte Reservoir and so we headed up to Storey Arms to meet the Brecon team. With people approaching the valley from all directions, it wasn’t long before we stumbled across some people who had been setting off flares for no good reason and should have known better. I can’t go into detail, but suffice to say, they’re probably not having a good day today.

As I was about to pull out of the layby after packing up, the pager went off again, this time for a possible downed hanglider north of Cardiff. By the time I got to base, we’d been stood down since no actual evidence of the crash had been found. We packed up and headed home where, at 2300, I finally managed to cook my now-deformed and defrosted pizza. I finally collapsed into bed around 0100 and fell deep asleep…

…until about 0145 when the pager woke me – search for a misper in Porth. With feet of lead, I dragged my reluctant self downstairs and headed off to base again. Not much to say about this one, there wasn’t a huge amount of information, it was a horrendously shitty area to search and he was found outside of our search area. By the time I’d packed up the vehicle in base and reached home it was 0600 and I managed a few hours’ sleep before I had to get up for work.

I just hope that this isn’t the trend for the week.

Technorati Tags: callout

I’ve not really been responding with the First Responders recently because of something that happened to me that has caused huge repercussions through my whole life – my car died. Now, I believe in Bangernomics – running cheap cars with higher maintenance costs instead of newer more expensive cars who depreciate quickly. However, I was expecting my little Rover to last another year or two, so it was a little bit of a shock when the head gasket blew and I had to get towed back from halfway to London. I have a temporary fix and I have someone looking for a more permanent fix for me, so I’m not too bad for now but it does mean that I’m not really able to respond for now.

We have had a job with Mountain Rescue – apart from a standdown after a request for assistance for a search in Redditch that is. It was a call to New Tredegar to assist the fire service with two youths stuck on a rock face. They were in a pretty nasty little gully, lots of loose rock, very unstable and we had a bit of a job getting them down. It was nice to be at the sharp end of a fairly technical job for a change, so I was happy with that.

Right now, I’m sat in a fantastic flat in Battersea in London getting Sean and his Dad ready for his Dad’s wedding. It’s going to be fun event I think, I’ve even got a reading to give and I’m taking the groom to the wedding in a rental car. The first of four wedding-type events of this year so far, Sean and I are going to be all weddinged-out by the end of the year I think.

Right, time to wash the car I think.

Jamming my shoes and jacket on quickly, Sean and I ran out and drove off. Arriving on scene, I texted one of our senior guys who I knew was en route and quickly changed into my boots and a hi-viz. I could see someone standing up by a small quarry uphill from us and Sean and I headed up the scene. A young lad had broken his leg and the ambulance crew were already on scene. We had a few interesting moments but apparently they’d already called 169 to come and assist and apart from covering them in a KISU tent and trying to organise a winching location for the helo, there wasn’t much for us to do. I had the amusing moment of clearing the scene of helmet-less people (mainly police) but other than that it was a fairly rapid and uneventful callout. 7 mins from pager to being on-scene and I think we were stood down within about an hour.

Couple of things come to mind though as I look back and analyse my own actions. I was very aware that although I’d joined First Responders to get some experience of dealing with scenes, this one threw me because I’d concentrated so much on the medical and there was nothing for me to do here – there was a paramedic on scene. I did have concerns about their health at one point since it was damnably cold up there, but 169 shocked us all as it suddenly appeared from over the hill and we were gone before it became an issue.

So, in retrospect, and knowing that hindsight is 20:20, what I could have done better:

• Got a better handover from the ambulance crew. To be fair, the paramedic was being a little brusque and somewhat territorial with his casualty, and while I could have been more assertive, it wouldn’t have benefited the casualty any unless 169 would have taken another hour or so.
• Got my KISU tent out. It was cold up there, but I was mainly trying to get a handle on the scene and get in contact with the rest of the team whilst Mike (who arrived a few minutes after I did) got his KISU tent out.

I think I did OK, certainly room for improvement, something I suspect will come with experience. I certainly think that had we remained there for any length of time I would have chosen a number of actions – got the ambulance crew out before they got hypothermic; got the casualty in a cas bag; moved him onto our stretcher off of the ambulance’s scoop stretcher; certainly I would have offered the casualty some Entonox I think - the Paramedic was sure that the kid was OK with his pain (until he nudged his leg), but I’m not sure how much of that was bravado on the young lad’s part. He refused my offer of Entonox since the casualty was hypothermic – it’s a controversial subject since it’s not technically contraindicated for hypothermic casualties and so long as the cylinder is above -4 celsius it should be ok (you have to shake it first when it’s cold just to make sure it’s mixed). My biggest concern would be monitoring his consciousness levels given that both hypothermia and Entonox can in extreme cases affect it.

Anyway, some food for thought. Good result and the young man seemed to be happy as he got his first helicopter flight, his leg momentarily forgotten as 6.5 tons of noisy, yellow helicopter thundered overhead.