Geoff Shoults – Exploring the bogs of the Howden/Bleaklow moors!

For a very brief moment I was amused.  An image – possibly from Blazing Saddles – flashed through my mind before it disappeared across the bleak moorland.  I was up to my chest in thick, black bog and unable to move.

I’d been out for a day’s hike across the Howden / Bleaklow moors on a bright but chilly and breezy late-Autumn weekday. Having lived all my life in the Peak District I’m used to bogs and fancy that I’m quite good at dealing with them and already today I’d been up to the knee more than once. This particular patch of Featherbed Moss wasn’t very big,  a single mattress size at most, and didn’t look especially threatening – in fact it looked like it might not even trouble the gaiters. However, as soon as I stepped onto it I disappeared to chest depth. It was definitely chest depth because the map pocket on the front of my Velez Smock was taking on gloop. Essentially I had my head and shoulders poking out of the hill.

I couldn’t grab anything solid and I couldn’t really move. My mind was wading through its old filing cabinets trying to recall something useful about how to get out of quicksand. Something about swimming popped up and after some considerable effort I managed to get one leg closer to the surface and some frantic, slo-mo kicking and clawing inched me slowly towards terra-ever-so-slightly-firma.

Eventually I flopped onto the turf like an oiled-up seabird. My camera was covered in muck ( Fuji – tough as old boots) and I was soaked to my skin and shiny with peaty mud to the armpits.

My outfit for the day was a new pair of the Alta trek trousers, a couple of Cambia layers and my brand new, first day’s use, Velez smock which I’d just treated myself to as a replacement for my ancient but still serviceable original one. It was mid afternoon, cold, and breezy and I was still a good few miles from my van. I wasn’t looking forward to the walk back and worried that I may get seriously chilled.

And yet I wasn’t cold or particularly uncomfortable. I was very soon warm enough and enjoying the walk again, cleaning the worst of the oomskah off my camera and taking a few more photos. By the time I’d dropped into the valley I was drying out nicely though I probably looked a little incongruous and smelt a bit earthy.

I don’t think manufacturers often mention the Post-Bog-Immersion Performance Index when discussing the benefits of outdoor gear, admittedly it’s hard to portray in a glossy advert, but the point is that a mountain  jacket isn’t solely about keeping rain off. Paramo’s great strength is that it’s a jacket that you wear all day and can rely on to keep you comfortable whatever nature throws at you  or, indeed, in to.