Profiles

From the outset ”The Big Push” was going to be a team effort.  Myself together with my teammates Lucy Metcalf  & Colin Jones from the Rotary Club of Carlisle Castle & Ron Bailey from Carlisle South wanted to emulate some of the problems ShelterBox and the ultimate recipients of this life saving equipment have transporting it from distribution centres to the villages and towns where they are needed after a disaster. Very often after an earthquake or flood there is little or no infrastructure so people carry the boxes many miles, in wheelbarrows, on heads, on donkeys, any way they can.

For our challenge we chose a hand-cart, homemade from anything we could find lying about the shed and stuck together with bolts and glue on a basic metal frame.

The kindness of strangers

Before we started the journey proper we spent a little time in Carlisle City Centre, and very quickly we were surprised by the kindness of strangers and their appreciation of the task we had set ourselves in the days and hours ahead. The money came rolling in, 10p here, £5 there.  We had only allowed ourselves 45 minutes collecting as we knew we had many miles to cover before nightfall. “Fantastic” said one old lady, “you’re mad” said another. Both were right and both delved deep into their purses and gave us the contents, every last penny. We were also heartened to hear people’s response to the BBC Radio Cumbria interview that went out earlier that morning. All wished us luck and many took away leaflets that they will hopefully read over a cup of coffee.

The time had come. We could not put it off any longer so with a spring in our step and a heavy bucket full of change we left Carlisle Castle with little ceremony, just a couple of well wishers.

The journey out of Carlisle was uneventful, down Botchergate and heading for the A6, an unforgiving road which is never flat for long and seems to go on forever. We passed Low Hesket just as the school was closing for the day. People stared as they tended to their gardens and several asked us what we were doing pushing a large green box big enough for a small man to curl up in. Again people reached into their pockets, £15 then £20 all in the space of half a mile. I didn’t expect this. We’re in a recession and most knew little about us other than we were obviously mad and  that  we were carrying a collection bucket on the front of a rather strange looking wheelbarrow!

We passed a shop, one of very few on our route. "Closing Down" the signs read,  "Everything Must Go". Out came a man, running and waving a crisp new £5 note. "Stop" he said, "I couldn’t let you go past without supporting you". He must have heard our radio interview and his kindness gave us an extra spring in our step on the way to our overnight stop.

Again and again we were stopped, a farmer, a cyclist on a charity bike ride, some people on a vintage car run. None of them knew us but all appreciated the effort we were putting in. Even when we stopped to spend a penny in a kind villager’s house we were given another £3 donation to the cause.

Blisters

On day two we started from Penrith and stopped for lunch just before we started our ascent. Those wise to Ron’s feet sat up-wind as a very brave Lucy tended to his blisters. We joked about the hard boiled eggs kindly prepared by my mother that they would give us turbo power as we climbed the hill.

Slowly and surely we climbed, each taking turns behind the barrow. The road up to the radar station on Great Dunn Fell contained several optical illusions known as “electric braes”. I had never heard of the term before . It's an optical illusion that makes you think you are travelling downhill when in fact you’re not. It was long and unforgiving but everybody pitched in and it  felt like we were using every last ounce of power just to reach the radar station.

But with just 2 miles to go, and the end being nearly in sight, we had underestimated ever so slightly the extent of the challenge that still lay ahead of us. With the width of the path being about 18” wide and the barrow being 24” we spent most of the trek from the radar station to the camp either carrying the box, which was still attached to the barrow, or stuck in ditches. Close your eyes and imagine if you can a scene from ‘Last of the Summer Wine’,  four willing volunteers with our  irrepressible self-styled leader Ron, trying to control ourselves as our exhaustion turned to fits of hysterical laughter as the cart and box sped off down the fell side leaving us far behind it.

Ice Station Zebra

An hour and a half later, bedraggled yet ecstatic, we arrived in the camp.  The scene that greeted us was like something out of Ice Station Zebra, lots of white tents all lined up with a uniformity that could only have been achieved with a spirit level.

Out came the champagne that had travelled with us in the box from the outset.  Slightly shaken, it was opened with much excitement and a loud cheer.  We were then shown to our 5* accommodation and given a tour of the facilities.

I’m sure much will be written about the Cross Fell challenge itself but our memories, which will stay with us forever, are of the storms that battered us from about 7pm onwards that night. But undeterred and being able to see little further than 20 yards in the driving rain we donned our dinner suits and posh frocks in true British style, toasted the Queen and Rotary and ate the most amazing 5 course meal that we had had in years.

Our congratulations go to the Cross Fell challenge team for everything that they achieved, not only in the organisation and welcome that they gave us, but in the money they have raised for Shelter Box. Our thanks are also expressed to Andrew Meggs & Julie Jones who joined us on the challenge over the two days.