Mongolian Derby Second Time?

Its Friday and my favourite afternoon past time is sitting in Hermanus on the West Coast of South Africa. I eat oysters, drinking white wine and watch the Southern Right whales feeding their calf’s in Walker Bay. Add the company and it’s idyllic.

Unfortunately ‘the adventurer’ is not in South Africa but Horsham, West Sussex, England, staying with my father. Not that visiting ones father is unfortunate. However after being here for two weeks I am pulling at the bit to get away for the weekend.

Off to London and the bright lights this afternoon, meeting my good friend Nick. Those regular readers will remember that the last time I met Nick and his friends in the city a £500 wager was placed and duly won by yours truly. This evening event is only a prelude to the real reason for going to the city, although who knows what will materialise from this evening shenanigans.



On Saturday morning I shall be going horse riding. I have entered a competition, the prize, the entrance fee to the 3rd Mongolian Derby a not unsubstantial $10,000. To win, I need to make a video being interviewed sitting on a horse.

Why? You are asking would I want to enter the same race I came third in two years ago. Where I had four unofficial dismounts and took six stitches. Where I lost feeling in three toes due to hyperthermia. Where I lost so much weight I looked like this at the finish line



The Mongolian people are one of the most generous races of people in the world. They are fun, and they laugh easily. Their hospitality shows no bounds. I entered a camp one evening, using only sign language. I asked if I could stay the night. I was shown to a tent, where they showed me a bed. I was then shown to another tent where a wedding party was in full progress. I was given food, strong drink and a seat next to the bride. Two aunties, who had also taken strong drink, proceeded to teach me naughty words in Mongolian, much to the amusement of all present.

It was amazing, songs, speeches, and laughter. In my old age I intend to tell the tail to my grandchildren, of the day I attended a Mongolian wedding.

Is this my reason to enter the longest and toughest horse race in the world? Not a chance.

Third place is only the second of those who came last. As you know ‘the adventurer’ is nothing if not competitive.

I want to enter the race TO WIN.

New Years Skiing

New Year was spent in Le Grande Terche, a ski village south of Morzine in the French Alps where this Adventurer happens to be lucky enough to own an apartment.
It is part of the Porte Du Solaire one of the most expansive ski regions in the world. However Le Grande Terche is a small family resort consisting of one black, three reds and three blue ski runs. In the village it has three bars and three restaurants. A friend Gavin and his girlfriend came to visit for the New Years festivities.

The evening started badly, I had roasted a chicken for dinner prior to tearing up the village at midnight. Even Gavin a kick boxing coach could not beat the toughest bird any of us had ever encountered. Not to be deterred Champagne was opened and the EFS (French ski school) set off the evening with a touch lit descent followed by an early fireworks display. The fireworks were set off early due to health and safety reasons, i.e. nobody could be trusted to be sober enough at midnight to light the fireworks. Now that is the kind of health and safety I agree with.

The last time I was out with Gavin he had worn a ‘Morph’ outfit to the public house we were visiting, much to the amusement of all patrons. It was no surprise therefore that after the Champagne he produced face paints explaining he could not get the Captain America outfit into his luggage. Once suitable attired we went off to paint if not the town, then the New Year revellers red, green, yellow and blue.

At 4am after a night of partying where at one time we had a cue of revellers waiting to have their face painted we decided to call it a day and slopped off to bed.

For the next few days paint was found on sheets, table clothes, towels etc. people we met that night came up to us shaking our hands wishing us Happy New Year, or shaking their heads and running in the opposite direction. What a couple of pounds spent on face paint can do is truly remarkable.

New Years day, a little jaded we approach the pieste for the real excitement of the holiday. Gavin and I set off to teach the debutant girls how to snow plough on the green slope before lunch. To our great delight both girls seemed to pick up the basics quickly leaving us to try a little more difficult slope in the afternoon.

Now I am quite a reasonable skier as one would expect of the Adventurer who owns an apartment in the French Alps. I was taught by my cousins who were in the Canadian ski team. So I had a quick look at Gavin’s style told me he was an intermediate skier with lots of fitness and upper body strength to get him out of trouble. I took him straight off pieste and watched him slip down the mountain on his back side.

Tough chicken? If there is one thing that annoys me, its people who criticize my cooking!

A little gem of a boozer!

Upon returning from South Africa, I have been residing at my sister’s apartment in Hove, on Second Avenue, 50mts from the beach on the top floor of a converted Victorian House. It is a beautiful spacious two bedroom flat. No I am not trying to sell it has already been sold. My sister is waiting for the sale to be completed, and while she is waiting, she very kindly offered me the use.

Hove is next door to Brighton which is a holiday resort for wealthy Londoners. London being only an hour away, it is also popular with day trippers, and has very active night life. All very good, bright lights, loud music, lots of twenty, thirty some things enjoying the sea air, and partying the night away, but where do you go to find a good pub which to have a beer after work?

In my wanderings in search of such an establishment, I came across a little gem of a boozer with a unique past. The landlady, Sue gave me a warm welcome, and the regulars were just as friendly.

The Bow Street Runner

In Brighton people know the story of Brighton Pavilion. George 1V, the Prince Regent built it as a discreet location for him to enjoy liaisons with his long-time companion, Mrs Fitzherbert. The Prince had wished to marry her, and did so in secrecy, after his divorce from Queen Caroline for her adultry.

Another story is told by the locals who drink in the Bow Street Runner. An urban legend true or not, has grown and is told by the regulars a friendly lot, it has to be said. They tell me the pub was originally a police station, looking back in records I found it did indeed change its name from the Station Inn. Aparently it was getting too many telephone calls requesting the time of the next train to London.

Landlady Sue and a few of the regulars

According to the locals the police station came into being because of the ammerous advances of a royal who had taken a lover across the street. The police opened a small police station to keep an eye on the royal and his late night wanderings. Once his lustfull ways had been fulfilled the police station closed and turned into the fine public house it has become today.

Nobody could tell me which royal or who he had liaisons with. Not surprising as the pub had been in excistance for over two hundred years, and I have had trouble remembering what happened last night on occassions.

The pub is in Brunswick Street coincidentally Queen Caroline’s title prior to her marriage to George 1V was Caroline the Duchess of Brunswick. Perhaps it wasn’t a he, having an affair but a she? Has the story has changed down the years? Could it be that Caroline was the one having an affair? After all she was divorced for her adultery. Was the police station opened for her protection!

I’ll have to pop down and inform the locals in the Bow Street Runner of my pontifications. Not that I need an excuse to revist such a friendly establishment.

Brighton 100

A 100 mike bike race which starts in Preston Park at 8am, a quick 100 miles (approximately 160km) and finishes back in Brighton’s Preston Park. In between a lot of leg work and one of the most talked about climbs in the world of bikes, Devil’s Dyke!

A good contingent should be taking part. The idea of a few beers, and fish and chips on Brighton’s famous promenade after some mild excursion is bound to bring the faithful out for one of the last rides of the summer.

Just before we start to think that 100 miles on a bike is a hard day’s work. Gill and another of her friends has decided to complete the shorter course, 50 miles on skates. There is always somebody, somewhere making what we do look like an infant schools sports day.

To race day and the good contingent had fallen dramatically with cry off’s for various reasons, from a believable “I’m going to see my kids” to Nick’s “I’ve got to work!” ‘Fess up my buddy your girl friend was doing a half marathon and you got told to cheer her on. Gill had gone to a party on Saturday evening and was having difficulty in finding …. well anything!

Tim and Dora set out on their sea side excursion alone on the 6.30 train from Victoria. Arriving in Brighton to a cold dawn, rain in the air and a 25 mph wind straight in your face no matter which way you are heading. After numerous set backs and adding another three miles onto the route due to a sign which had blown away they completed the 50 mile course in 4hrs. In the conditions not too shabby!

A disappointing 750 riders turned out for the ride, may be it is held too late in the season to attract a better number.

So it was off to Kemp Town for a few well earned beers and to the promenade for fish and chips twice in Tim’s case.

Gill eventually arrived in Brighton at 10am and was last heard from saying “Just finished my 50 mile skate after two falls, two blisters and 8 hours of continual skating.” Hat’s off well done!

As for the Adventurer; I went to see my kids. But I made it to Brighton to enjoy the beer and fish and chips!

Art in the Park

New Monthly Arts and Crafts Market to Open in Stanford

Sunday 3rd October at Galashiels Lodge

Stanford will be hosting its first Art in the Park during the weekend of the
Stanford Stretton's Bird Fair. The art and crafts market is to help showcase the
incredible talent Stanford has on offer. It is to be held from 10am to 3pm on
Sunday 3rd October in the magnificent gardens at Galashiels Lodge, 10 King Street.

Janet Marshall, who is running the event said

“We intend to showcase local artists, They produce quality art at affordable
prices. The public can meet the various artists and watch them as they work,
while enjoying the beautiful gardens in a delightful venue. We are hoping the
children will get creative and interact with the artists making arts and crafts
to take home. It’s a family day out in beautiful Stanford, which is what
Stanford is about.”

The magnificent mountains that surround Stanford, set on the beautiful banks of the Klein River with its abundant birdlife is conducive to the creativity of
many of the craftspeople. It seemed fitting the first Art in the Park will
coincide with the annual Stanford Stretton Bird Fair.

“Art in the Park plans to grow and offer a variety of media including painting,
drawing, photography, pottery, jewelery, fibres, sculpture, wood, and glass.”
Continued Janet “ if any artist would like to be added to our mailing list for
entry forms, please email:janet@orcawireless.co.za.”

Unfortunately I shall be in London that weekend, however I know where my heart will be as Gerry Fourie would say “in Stanford”

Paul Chew

London to Windsor

It started all so innocently, as most things do, “Who would like to compete in the London to Windsor?” 40 mile bike run along the Thames. A fish and chip supper was the wager to be bought by the loser and handicaps were negotiated. Being a year or two older than the other two racers, I requested and was given rather a good handicap.

My competitors had only seen me ride once, a 60 mile run to Southend. I borrowed a bike, the chain came off three times and I carried no fluids or food so I took another three stops. I came in an hour behind one friend and three quarters of an hour behind the other. I enjoyed myself drinking cider and eating fish and chips by the seaside, so ‘Yes’ was the answer when asked if I would like join them again.

Four weeks later saw the three of us at 10.15am in Richmond on the start line. That was the last I saw of my two friends, still it was a nice morning. A great run along tow paths for 10 miles, there seemed to be a sailing regatta on the Thames. A run through a few picturesque villages, along through a wood and on to Windsor, with a great view of the castle and the river. One of the nicer summer routes it must be said.

There I sat taking it all in and waiting for my friends to arrive basking in my glory. Who needed a 30min and 20min handicap? Young wiper snappers, I showed them! Tim turned up 10mins later stunned to find me waiting, together we found a text message from Nick saying he had a puncture and turned in an hour after me.

A fine victory, keep the money because bragging rights go to the Adventurer!

Now a 40 mile run on a Sunday morning is hardly the breakfast of champions, it took me a respectable 2hrs 15mins to complete. Various reasons have been muted for my victory and here are some
a) I stayed in the night before.
b) I trained.
c) I took supplements to boost my energy.
d) I took the short route i.e. the 27 mile and not the 40 mile run.

Some of the above are true!

However as I sat there with my friends supping on local ale, trying hard not to look so smug, along came a couple of girls on skates! They had a couple of blisters, being a gentlemen I offered them my friends seats, who gave them up graciously, and sent them off to buy the girls drinks (there are some benefits to being older).

These two girls had skated the entire route! That’s 40 miles, 64 km from Richmond to Windsor! Congratulations girls, Gill and Esther a fantastic effort. Puts our fun and frolics on a Sunday morning into perspective, and the organisers had refused a give them meddles upon completion. Not on chaps!

We did the only descent thing possible and gave the girls our meddles.
Then it was back to the bragging, it’s so much more fun with an audience …. and a few more beers …. and fish and chips on the way home. What a great way to spend a Sunday! Thanks Nick and Tim!

To victory!

Walker Bay

I haven’t had much to write about over the last few days but came across this article on a southern right whale which breached off the coast of Cape Town on Wednesday. I sincerely hope the whale was not hurt!



As regular readers know I have just returned from Stanford, South Africa, off Walker Bay which is the nursing grounds for the Southern Write Whale. For six months of the year these whales stay in Walker Bay feeding their young and are seen on a daily basis as close as 10mts from the shore. Its one of the great nature spectacles of the world and I am privileged to say I have witnessed it.

We, my friends and I, regularly fish in these same waters, often hearing and seeing these magnificent beasts. We are in a small fishing boat, nowhere near the size of the yacht. If one of these animals should take it into his head to visit us in anger there would be nothing left of Mark’s and Anthony’s highly prized floating fun palace.

Why do we endangering ourselves sailing into the deep blue younder while there are dangerous animals weighing 40 tons plus waiting to snuff out our lives with a single swing of their tale? The truth is these animals are gentle creatures, that I honestly believe would not deliberately hurt any animal that was not threatening them – or their young. They are curious but gentle creatures and usually we are delighted to see them swim up to and around the boat.

The first time I came across an inquisitive whale was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean . We were sailing form the Cape Verde Islands to Brazil via Fernando de Noronha (the most beautiful place in the world - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jiNfvitbWA - it even beats Stanford).

I was on a 40ft yacht with two aquatints in 30ft in a swell on a beautiful sunny day when a fin was seen in the wave behind us. I looked up and saw what I latter discovered to be an adolescent Sperm Whale looking down at me through the clear mid Atlantic waters. A magnificent sight!

I began to get a ‘little’ worried when 30mins later he was still hanging around. I became ‘positively’ worried when he surfaced 10yds away from the yacht and soaked me with the spray from his blow hole. Can you imagine being soaked by the spray from a whale’s blow hole – its not very pleasant, the smell of fish staid in my hair for weeks? When we realised we were in its control, if he wanted to smash the boat he could, we could do nothing about it. Once that is established, we realise that he didn’t want to and I began to enjoy having him around.

Of course accidents happen, which is what happened with our Southern Right. Mark was in Walker Bay fishing on Wednesday and reported that whales were breaching all around him. Maybe there was something in the water on Wednesday?

In my opinion there is something in the water everyday in Walker Bay!