So the Amazon drone went back because it was too big and complex for a learner pilot, so I received this next one yesterday and I’ve been putting it through its paces (more like the other way round) anyway, here’s today’s flight log…
It’s a little fold up drone handy for transporting…
And here it is unfolded and ready for a test flight…
And now I managed to get it up in the air but there’s not much wiggle room in the lounge so its mainly up and down to get a feel for the controls…
That thing looks like it should have machine guns, Foxy. Would it be powerful enough to carry weapons, do you think? 
Wouldn’t it be fun if you could shoot at people with it. Not enough to do them any harm of course, just something that would sting a bit. 
Do you think you could train it to walk to “heel” and follow you on your jaunts?
Actually Harbal, while I was searching for a suitable drone I came across a youtube clip of footage taken by some drone users, and one of them was a drone following a group of people and shooting them with a paint gun. I’ve tried to find it and post on here, but like most things internet, it has vanished into cyber space…
Absolutely Fruitcake, the drone I sent back was equipped with GPS and where ever the mobile phone went that controlled it, it would follow. Unfortunately, the reason why I returned it was because I do not have a smartphone. However, there is a company called ‘Hubsen’ who produce drones with a remote controller that has a screen. I ordered one but it appears they are sold out and difficult to obtain.
I wouldn’t be brave enough to operate such a drone, but I would certainly like to see it in action. 
Watching from a place of cover, obviously.
I think they were all in on it Harbal, I don’t think the victims were randoms…
I was reading about one of my past exploits yesterday and thought it might be of interest to the odd member…
THE SNOWDON MARATHON
As I lay awake on that late October night, I could hear the wind scurrying around the rooftops and howling through the gaps in the window frame. It had been fine and calm all day, and the warning of storms on the radio led me to believe that this was the beginning of those storms. I was a long way from being engulfed by sleep, for although I was warm and comfortable, I was a worried man. The reason for my worry would be clear in the morning, when I stand on the start line of the Snowdon Marathon. I will be running 26.2 miles in some of the most hazardous conditions, where even in summer the temperature can plummet, mist can descend, and freezing rain can beat down the hardest competitor.
I knew what the wind was trying to do, it was attempting to intimidate me, to make me go home and forget this foolhardy challenge. But I knew that if things went well it would be the most scenic and satisfying of all my marathons.
I woke at six a.m. to find the wind still taunting me, the sea was rough, and so was I! Never at my best in the mornings. I showered and assembled my kit, my wife slept peacefully as I crept out of the room so as not to wake her. Jim was apprehensive as we made our way down to breakfast, Weetabix and toast, that should do it.
After an hour’s drive to Llanberis we met hundreds of worried runners, the wind had eased and it wasn’t all that bad for running, except for the cold, it was freezing! We had to walk up to the start, about a mile and a half away. Few words were spoke, it resembled a procession of condemned men and women. “Oh yes” there were quite a few lady runners as well, I was surprised on such a tough marathon. The start was off road in a field, where we met some familiar faces and exchanged thoughts. We were soon pushing our discarded clothes into marked bags for collection later and applying Vaseline to the sensitive bits of our anatomy that tend to rub together on a long run. It’s hard to remove warm clothes when you’re cold but experience tells you that after a couple of miles you will be too hot and have to take things off, you either carry it to the finish, or throw it away. So it’s best to only wear the minimum however naked you might feel now. A Helly Hanson thermal top would protect me from the cold’s embrace, while a waterproof in my bum bag would prevent hypothermia in the rain or if I had to stop running for any reason.
Nine Thirty passed and we surged off along the track to the road, with all this nervous energy it’s hard to go slow, but you must remember that there is a long way to go and if you don’t know the course you must beware of surprises. I made steady relaxed progress along the first half mile or so of flat running through the village of Nant Peris, then came the first climb of the day, it was a long hill of about four miles up to the Llanberis Pass. I dug in and listened to the chatter of other runners, It soon stopped as the climb made its presence felt, I was beginning to warm up now and was glad that I had decided not to wear my gloves. We seemed to climb forever and I wondered how much energy I had got left, round every bend in the road I thought that I would see the top, but no, it went on and on. I spotted some buildings in the distance, that was it, the top, but the road was getting steeper with every step, my legs ached and I was breathing heavily, I was hanging on by a thread, just when I thought that I would have to walk I saw the crest of the hill just a few hundred yards away, and besides, nobody else was walking so I toughed it out up to the drinks station at the top. I snatched a cup of water as the road levelled out and gobbled down its contents, after checking the whereabouts of other runners I flung the empty vessel to the roadside. By this time the road had started to descend, “right” I thought, now it’s time to do some work. I had recovered and was back on full power so I let it go down the hill. It felt good as I picked up speed and started passing other runners, I took the right turn at Pen-y-Gyred and saw the five mile marker. I continued to make good progress, I glanced behind to see a stream of runners snaking back up the hill, the awesome shape of Snowdon appeared on my right with the sun illuminating her weather-beaten flanks, I could not think of a better place to be.
If there were any hills between here and Beddgelert I didn’t notice them, my legs were going through the same routine that they had gone through a thousand times before while training, there was no pain or objections by them and my mind was free to wander where it wanted. I avoided conversation in order to take in the marvellous scenery and the magical sensation.
The spectators in Beddgelert were brilliant with their shouts of encouragement for the runners, it gave me a heart-warming feeling, we were heroes, I was floating on air, I was soon brought down to earth when my lungs suddenly demanded more oxygen and a bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, this was one mean hill! The pace dropped off dramatically but I sensed another runner going with me stride for stride, together we were passing people struggling up the hill, but without a word we pushed until there was no more hill left. I turned to him and said “ We did well there didn’t we?” He agreed but had to bid me farewell at the drinks station so that he could stop to remove some objects from his shoe. “ I’ll try and catch you up” He shouted, as I disappeared up the road, but I never saw him again.
My pace returned to normal now and once again I was running with very little effort, I spotted the fifteen mile marker as I passed some lads in a group having a chat, when again I noticed another runner on my shoulder going stride for stride with me. No words were spoken, but I knew that we had a common ambition, to complete this marathon. It was uncanny the way that we stayed together, I was feeling the distance now, and I knew that he was, but we seemed to encourage each other, if I slowed down then he would too, and if he dropped back I would ease off the pace until he caught up. We went on like this from seventeen to twenty one miles, then came the battle that we had been waiting for, this next hill was the big one, Snowden!
As the road took a turn for the worse, so did I! My legs turned to jelly, sweat trickled down my face, and my lungs were filling to capacity, the smooth swift pace disintegrated and I slowly picked my way through a crowd of exhausted runners walking up the hill. Round a sharp right hand bend on to a minor road revealed an even steeper climb with more walkers than runners and as the road turned up to the sky my friend was dragged silently backwards and out of touch. I meanwhile was determined not to go the same way, I dug in hard, and although I was going through the motion of running, I was going no faster than a slow walk. All of a sudden I could take no more and grudgingly with hands on hips, I slowed to a walk. I didn’t want to do this, but the severity of this climb asked for more than I could give. I walked and jogged the best I could until the track started to level out, weary runners were spread out in front of me, and I was weary too but we were all jogging now, no more walking. The boulder strewn path was getting flatter by the yard with just a small rise up to the summit, and quite run able.
The third placed Lady runner asked me if there were any more hills, I told her that there was not, my reply made her happy and spurred her on, but I didn’t tell her that I hadn’t got a clue. We reached the summit and I took in the view, nestling in the valley below was Llanberis, I could make out the little white building of the Royal Victoria Hotel, the finish, and all downhill…
The sight of the finish sent blood rushing to my head and I started to gather speed, I could see runners in front picking their way around rocks and other obstacles, being used to running on the fells I leaped and bounded over anything in my way, including the third placed lady runner. They all fell to my mastery of the rough terrain, my legs felt strong and I was full of confidence, I passed other runners at a suicidal pace, the faster I went the stronger I became, nothing would stop me now. A weight had been lifted as every step took me ever closer to the paradise they called the Royal Victoria Hotel.
I could hardly control my emotions, I wanted to laugh out loud, I had a permanent smile on my face as all the questions had been answered, would I make it? Yes I would!!!
I glanced at my watch and it revealed a very good time for this tough marathon, I was shaking with excitement. I reached the tarmac path that led down to the road, and the firm smooth surface felt good underfoot. Once again my pace increased as the road flattened out and I was in Llanberis, a marshal directed me left and then right, and I was on the last straight with about half a mile left, my pace had subsided and my energy was spent but I managed a last surge up the short rise to the hotel,
Into the car park and under the finish gantry… 3 Hours 18 Minutes, Bloody Brilliant!
Wow Bob! What an exciting marathon, full marks and congratulations for doing so well. 
Believe it or not but I was with you all the way on that Run, strangely though I didn’t have the aches and pains you must have finished with! 
That was worth putting into print, it held my attention from beginning to end.
Well done!
Going for a lay down after that, I’m knacked 
Thanks Mags and Chillie, I was just going through some of my old reports and thought it might be interesting to someone. I was so emotional after the finish I just had to try and record the event. Looking back now, I’m glad I did, it brings back so many memories, Thanks for reading it…
I’ve got a few more if you’ve got the time to read them…
I’ll need to get in training first Foxy
Rightly so you should get emotional, that’s a fantastic time. Good to record memories that sort of thing to look back on later 
A definite yes from me, please 
It wasn’t always running where I found enjoyment and excitement. A fellow work colleague and me were chatting one day and decided that the coast to coast on road bikes was an adventure too good to miss. So we came up with a plan and this is how it went.
As we left home at 4:30am the rain was pouring down and it was still dark. We made a dash for the Station where we arrived at 4:50am, we were faced with a notice that told us that the Station did not open until 5:00am, despite this we made our way through the tunnel and on to the platform and dried ourselves off. As the darkness made way for a murky grey we boarded the train, secured our cycles, and at 5:30am departed for Whitehaven to start what was to be an exciting and testing challenge of endurance.
We passed through Conisbrough and I can remember thinking that just a few weeks ago I passed through here on the bike training for this challenge wondering if it would ever get off the ground, well now we’re here looking at Conisbrough from a different perspective. Tony and I chatted as the train made its way to Manchester Airport. We changed trains and after a brief stop (where we snatched a cup of tea) were soon passing through some very fine scenery at Lancaster, Grange-over-Sands, Ulverston, and finally coming to a halt in Barrow-in-Furness. We only just had time to cross the line before the train to Whitehaven rolled in and came to rest alongside the platform. One keen cyclist was already securing his bike in the small space allowed for freight. The train driver announced that three bikes was all he would allow, so this time we had been lucky, god knows what we would have done if the keen cyclist had brought a friend!
At 12:00am we were standing outside the station at Whitehaven, having just completed the obligatory photo shoot, and after trying to ring Sue with no success, we set off for the start of the days cycling at St Bees Head. It was five miles up the road, with up being the operative word. Maybe it was the weight of the pannier bags, but that hilly five miles was very hard work indeed, and it would be nothing compared to what was waiting for us in the Lake District.
The sun kept finding holes in the fluffy white clouds, all the grey skies had been left behind as we rode into St Bees, it looked so peaceful and inviting. More photographs, and as Tony chatted to some tourists, I made my way down to the little slipway that was being washed by the sea. I then had a quiet moment to reflect the task in hand and think of Sue, I wish she was here now. After rinsing my hands in the Irish Sea I joined Tony at the monument dedicated to Arthur Wainwright, the founder of the Cross country Coast to Coast. This was it, 1:00pm, and time to begin the adventure to link the Irish Sea and the North Sea by road, on bicycles.
The roads were still quite undulating as we cycled out of St Bees but once we reached the A595 the hills were less steep, but longer. Conversation ceased as we made good time and pace, in the distance the high mountains of the Lake District beckoned, and as we turned off the main road to follow a sign saying Hard Knott Pass a wave of excitement sent a shudder up my spine. We were soon at the foot of this enormous climb, “Awesome” I said as we stopped for a drink and recorded on film this monumental wall of rock.
Within minutes of engaging the climb I was forced to dismount and proceed to walk the remainder. My five speed road bike could not produce a gear anywhere near low enough to push up this hill. Tony however, on his mountain bike survived longer, and with strength and determination managed to conquer two thirds of the climb. Motorists smiled and waved, applauding our efforts, and in the end our labours were rewarded with a fifty mile unrestricted view of the surrounding countryside. All the time we had lost was soon to be recovered, after a lesser descent, and subsequent climb of Wrynose Pass, we were on the major descent down to Little Langdale. Speeds in excess of thirty five miles an hour were reached, with the brakes on! Stopping would have been impossible, but soon Skelwith Bridge came into view, and finally Ambleside, the end of the first day’s ride.
33 miles covered, with 43 miles total mileage if you include to and from the stations.
It was 5:00pm…
Jim made us very welcome at Rothay House which had a slightly country and western flavour to it. The evening was spent reflecting on the day’s events and enjoying Rainbow Trout at one of the local restaurants, all washed down with a pint in the nearest hostelry.
Wednesday 11th August
Today’s ride would take us from Ambleside in the Lakes to Richmond at the other side of the Dales. We left Ambleside at 10:20am and arrived in Bowness-on-Windermere in good time to watch the eclipse. Tony spotted it first at about ten to eleven, with the sun behind the clouds but still visible, it was about one third obscured. We sat on a wall while it grew dark and cold until finally thick cloud engulfed it completely. So at around eleven twenty we decided we had seen enough. With the high peaks of the Lake District Behind us we were able to make good pace all the way to Kendal, where we arrived at 12:00am. A busy little town this so we had no trouble at all finding a café for a cup of tea and piece of cake.
The main road to Sedbergh was also quite decent, and I bagged a good deal in a sports shop.
We were making good time and enjoying the ride, then at Garsdale as I changed gear to descend, the chain danced along the cluster of cogs and dropped off the end. “Bugger!”
I pulled over to the side of the road and manipulated it back on, only to find my hands covered in thick black oil. Tony was quick to act and produced some wipes he had borrowed from work, they were designed for just such emergencies. So as Tony re-packed his bag I did a very satisfactory clean up job, nice one Tony! I set off, staring down at my selector to make sure everything was ok, Tony on the other hand was convinced he had left something behind and stopped. I slammed into his rear which sent me hurtling to the ground with my knee taking most of the force. I struggled to my feet and quickly removed my bike from the path of an oncoming vehicle. After making an inspection of the bike and me I found no serious damage to either so we continued with our journey. We turned off the main road and headed for Hardraw, and were faced with a climb of mammoth proportions. I dismounted after grinding to a halt but Tony struggled on a little further. Sweat ran over my face and my legs turned to jelly, I climbed back in the saddle and pushed for the top, visibility was excellent as I approached the summit it was then that I spotted the Buttertubs, a rocky feature where we had promised ourselves a rest.
With some easy climbs and fine scenery we were soon approaching the outskirts of Richmond. We had made good time from the Buttertubs but it was still 7:10pm as we rolled to a halt outside Dorothy’s B and B, a little later than we had expected. Dorothy made quite a fuss of us so it was 9:00pm before we went in search of food. All the pubs stopped serving at nine, so we were left with three choices, Chinese, Indian or Fish and Chips. We chose the latter and they were the best Fish and Chips I have ever had.
70 miles covered today making a total of 113.
Thursday 12th August
I was concerned about the knee injury that had been bothering me all night, but as we cycled away this morning it felt quite good, The pain had gone and riding the bike did not seem to affect it. We visited a bike shop before we left Richmond, Tony reckoned that it was one of the best in the north of England. So it was 11:00am before we were on the road.
Riding as if we were on a time trial we were soon entering Northallerton at 12:00am where we bumped into a friendly Bus Driver. Been a keen cyclist himself he proceeded to re-schedule our route, so we thanked him but decided to stick to the original one.
We rested in Osmotherly, passed through Kildale, and then had rather a longer stop in Castleton than we had planned. After making a hair raising descent I spotted a decent place to eat, I dismounted and expected to see Tony right behind me but he was not, thinking he would appear at any moment I took out a sandwich and glanced at my watch, it was 4:00pm. He finally came walking down the road pushing his bike with a split tyre.
I chased round Castleton for an hour trying to find a new tyre, with no luck, meanwhile Tony had made some makeshift repairs and at 5:00pm we were back on the road again.
The climbs were becoming very steep now as we passed through Houlsyke, Lealholm, and Glaisdale, the climbs were out of steep sided valleys with fast frightening descents, on one such descent I found my brakes to be totally ineffective, as I gathered speed I realised the only way to stop was to force my shoe into the tarmac until I came to a halt. Out came the spanners.
It felt comforting to know that I could stop now if I tugged on my brake lever, but all was not well, there were hard climbs around every corner, it would soon be dark, and we had been going round in circles for the last half an hour. Grosmont had disappeared off the face of the earth, there was only one thing to do, go the long way round by Whitby.
After a long stretch of hard riding and no talking we descended the steep hill down into Whitby, we were both very tired now and with no lights on our bikes had to keep up a good pace to beat the advancing night. I thought we would never reach the turn off to Robin Hoods Bay but at 8:25pm in failing light I rinsed my hands in the North Sea.
Whitby and just a few miles to the finish at Robin hoods Bay.
Once again we enjoyed Fish and Chips under a starry sky followed by a celebratory Jack Daniels…. just the one!
Miles covered today 76. Total miles covered 189.
Friday 13th August
We decided to play it by ear today, we would cycle the seventeen miles into Scarborough, replace the split tyre on Tony’s bike, leave our pannier bags and anything else that would come off the bikes in the station lockers, and then make a run for York. 50 miles. At 9:00am we left the Wayfarer and after a back breaking climb out of Robin Hoods Bay arrived in Scarborough at 10:20am. Tony got to work replacing the split tyre, while I removed my pannier bags and rack, I carried some essentials in a small rucksack on my back. After refreshments in the station café we rolled out for the last time. It was 12:00am.
We left Scarborough under an overcast sky, and by the time we reached Rillington the rain was coming down. It was 2:00pm when we arrived at Malton, so we scoured the rain soaked streets for food, we were soon sitting down to Tuna and Baked Potato with all the trimmings. After re-joining the A64 our spirits had lifted, the rain had stopped and we were making good time once more. The difference it made not having to carry the pannier bags was quite surprising.
York Minster was in view as we rode past on the busy York by-pass and in no time at all the turn off for Selby via the A19 appeared on our left. About three miles from Selby fate dealt us some cruel cards, my back tyre was punctured! With all my tools and spare tube in the locker at the railway station it left us with no choice, while I kept inflating it and then making a run for it, Tony rode off to Selby to try and get a new tube before the shops closed. Each time I sprinted for it the tyre would go down a little faster each time until the air would not stay in at all, and it was time to walk. It was while I was walking that a racing cyclist stopped to see if he could help, I said that I needed a tube, and like magic he produced one from behind his back, unfortunately it was the wrong size, nice bloke though.
After borrowing some spanners and repairing the burst tube we were on our way again. As we enjoyed a short break in Selby the rain started again, it became very heavy as we passed through Brayton and Burn until finally we took shelter in a bus stop at Whitley Bridge. We were surprised to find another refugee of the storm as we shuffled inside. We chatted and had a drink while distant thunder rumbled around, but Tony was becoming worried as the sky grew darker and we did not want to get caught without lights. So into the rain we rode, it did ease off for a while, but as we approached Askern we were caught in a torrential downpour with hailstones thrown in for good measure. With our heads down we battled through the storm, the road became a river, and the sudden cold chill of my socks getting wet made me realise that my feet had not actually been wet until now.
The worst was over as we left Askern, in fact I swear that it had not rained at all on this side of town. For some unexplained reason we were doing over twenty miles an hour now, without any effort at all, Tony commented on how good he felt, yes, I felt the same.
We were riding like the wind as we rode into Barnby Dun, and the end of our adventure.
Until next time…….
Miles today 93. Total miles 282.
You and your friend certainly took on a challenge there Bob. Well done to both of you, you both had to go through a few hiccups but you didn’t once think of giving up.
Now I can understand why you have kept your outdoor hobby going all these years
Never a dull moment for you whether it be on your wheels or your legs!
I remember that eclipse. We had special glasses and all went out to watch with work colleagues.
Pure enjoyment to read this account. Second to running and hiking, there just isn’t a more intimate way of really seeing a place. That was no small feat! I am sure you still relish memories of this adventure
I have long considered a cycling trip there and am wondering whether or not this is still worthwhile endeavor at the advanced age of 61. Thoughts on that? If I spent a month in GB, how much time would you recommend my daughter and me spending on bike compared to the other conventional means of transportation to see the country?
my recommendation is don;t go near spitfire he’ll recommend and sell ya the wrong bike ;one of them sur on nippon electric ones!! [and you’ll need a van to hike them around the countryside!!
Take no notice Surfermom, I wouldn’t suggest anything that ludicrous, a 2 kilowatt Ladies Mountain Bike would be just the ticket!
So I have found myself in Llandudno once again and am writing on my old netbook running windows 7, so I apologise if I’m a bit slow in writing replies.
I also apologise to Surfermom for not responding to her post in February…Over the last year or so I have arrived at major fork in my journey of life…
It’s been a few years since we were here last and I thought Mrs Fox would enjoy a return to the Merrion hotel for her birthday, so I surprised her with this holiday.
Our hotel room looks out over the marine drive, and each morning I am taunted by the sight of several joggers passing my window. I can remember when I was one of those joggers…
The food is delicious so I look forward to more exercise and less food upon our return home in a weeks time, in an attempt to reduce my slowly expanding waistline…
But enough of that for now…There are hills to explore and shops to visit so I’ll catch you all later…
