Red Cliff Radar Station - Newfoundland

Stalked by the infamous Newfoundland winds, lashings of rain, and the onset of a brisk Autumnal evening I was starting to lose hope of ever finding the elusive radar station before dark. Light was fading, and I had no torch or camping equipment with me.

But here I was, keeping to a promise made to myself that I would explore the beautiful province of Newfoundland as and when possible on my days off from work.  After all, what is the point of travelling the world if you are only to continue with the same drudgery and boredom that inspired you to leave? So after a gym session, heavy lunch and a lot of procrastination I found myself setting off for the abandoned radar station at Red Cliff.

A 1950s relic, the radar station is a good 20 minute drive from downtown St John’s. Or, if relying on the ever so efficient public transport system, a 90 minute journey away, by way of bus and foot. Finding a good hitching spot was nigh on impossible, and the walk, along rural residential roads was uninspiring, save for the odd glimpse into the ocean or onto distant cliff edges.

I finally reached the path that lead to the old station, which also serves as a trail head for the East Coast Trail. Unfortunately some parts seemed out of reach, but I was able to still explore a maze of corridors and crumbling step, walls adorned with graffiti, and allowed my mind to imagine life at the station back in the 1950s, searching for intruders above North American skies.

Few pics below;ds, rashing

The earthen track to Cuckmere Haven (Microadventure)

I'd bagged two days holiday from work, and vowed to make the most of my, what I was (probably irritatingly) terming 'midweek bonus weekend' in the sun...

Upon getting off the bus I kicked off my trainers, turned my phone off, hooked my bag over my shoulder, and set off, barefooted down the short, rutted, earth path to my location for the night; Peace, reflection, solitude and 'me time' (or Cuckmere Haven for short).

I spent the first hour or so exploring, attempting to skim unskimmable stones, and testing my courage as to how near the notoriously fast flowing waters of the River Cuckmere I could get, without falling in and getting sucked out to sea.

After that, I found a location on the grassy cliff to bed down for the night, in my sleeping bag (no bivvy needed on these dry, summer nights) - It was a majestic location near the cliff edge (though with my hatred for heights, not TOO near the cliff edge), over looking the famous chalk cliffs of the Seven Sisters, and the mouth of the River Cuckmere, almost framed by what I would describe as a 'mini valley' ON the cliff.

I lay down, undertook some basic breathing exercises, pondered a few ponderings, and after reading a couple of chapters from the book I'd brought with me, I dozed off into a light, dreamless sleep. I woke a few times, and on one occasion was fortunate enough to witness a streaking shooting star fleet across the night sky before the clouds rolled in. Obviously I took time to wish on it! When I awoke for the last time (a couple of feet away from where I had actually bedded down, having rolled slightly down hill) I witnessed the wondrous site of day break over the still majestic Seven Sisters Cliffs.

My sleep may have been disturbed, but the opportunity to sleep under the stars, hear only squeaks of nearby rabbits, and quiet mutterings of distant sheep and cows, wake up to the peaceful Cuckmere Haven, ponder my ponderings and forget all of the troubles of every day living, made this whole microadventure on my 'bonus weekend' totally worth it.

I glugged some water, brushed my teeth, packed up my bag, and set back down the rutted earthy path to pick up my bus back to content, excited and and slightly tired (or home for short) - I was back for breakfast time too!!


...photos to follow once the film has been developed.

The Micro-est of Adventures on The South Downs

There’s nothing more liberating than a backpack and no plan. Or in the case of last night, a backpack and a rough plan. A very rough plan. I had promised myself I would do a microadventure – And this is the microest of microadventures. 

The premise was simple – Walk off onto the South Downs, into the darkness and find somewhere to camp, from where I could watch the sun rise over Brighton. I had all I needed; Warm clothes, head torch,  bivvy bag, sleeping bag, some homemade chilli wraps, water, a hip flask full of Jagermeister, and a steely determination to withstand a sudden and unexpected dumping of snow (IN APRIL!!!!!), and the ghosts, vampires, and doggers I had been warned about.

Supplies for the micro-est of microadventures

I have lived in this area of Sussex for the last year, since returning from nearly a year in New Zealand. But, purely down to bone idleness I had yet explored the area. This made navigating the Downs by torch light rather difficult. Navigate rabbit holes – Check. Avoid electric fences – Check. Avoid getting attacked (or nearly attacked) by cows again – Check. Avoid falling down a steep slope – Check. Avoid setting up camp in a bed of stingy nettles – Oh. I got off lightly, my left hand taking the brunt of it. To ease the itching I left my hand dangling out into the cold night through the hole intentionally left open for my mouth and nose (I’m not such a fan of condensation and tend to get a little claustrophobic in a fully zipped bivvy) and set out about getting merry on jager, full on chilli wraps and watching the bright stars of the night sky in between intermittent cloud cover. It was bliss. I slowly nodded off, and aside from the occasional stir (fear of the doggers/vampires/ghosts of course), slept through until sunrise.

A rather blurry view of Brighton

Another view from my night's 'bed'

I woke, cleared camp, and sat down on Maria (my backpack), sipping water, waiting for that elusive bright orange glow in the east to take over from the bright crescent moon which had accompanied me all night long. I wasn’t disappointed. There’s something greatly invigorating about welcoming in the sun on a crisp spring (Who am I trying to kid? It’s still winter!) morning. I surveyed the scene and imagined everyone waking up for a day of work after a cosy night in bed. They may have been less tired than I was, but I doubt they were as invigorated as I was.

And so I made the 2hour walk back home, avoiding all of last night’s hazards and made it home in time for breakfast. Pan au chocolate and orange juice accompanied by The Naked and Famous on the stereo– Just what the doctor ordered!

Until next time (With better photos, I promise) :)