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Following on from Arkos' excellent piece on urban exploration, it got me thinking about another wee favourite pastime of ours. Free climbing.
Once again an example of something now considered an extreme sport for the fashionable 21st century Metrosexual type. Back in the 70's it was just something you did. We thought nothing of climbing Salisbury Crags as a short cut to Hunter's Bog, rather than trailing round the Radical Road.
These days you see posey looking lithe dudes in Lycra with fancy shoes and ropes up there. I remember doing it in Clark's Commandos with an "Adidas" schooolbag on my back. I have to admit though, from the photos it looks scarier and higher that it seemed back in the day.
Once you got to climbing there was only one way you could go, especially if the Parkie was at the bottom warning you of the dangers "yous'll brek yer necks" whilst simultaneously threatening you with physical harm "I'll fit yer erses" if you didn't come down. Nae choice really. Up won every time.
Ah, but the park was a magic place. Hunter's Bog, Dunsapie Loch for the perch fishing, the Crags with it's views of the city and watching the summer sunsets without a care in the world.
A young man could get stuck up there for hours with only his own thoughts.
Ain't that the truth Bobrob?
For more photos like the ones I nicked from the boy, check out his site. There is a cracker of Hunters Bog in the mist.
http://www.henniker.org.uk/html/views_from_crags.htm
1 comment:
Nae tights and poofy shoes for us! Clarke's shoes and auld jeans and 20 Regal in yer pocket that was all that we needed. The park was the place to go to forget the worries and problems that we did not have. Searching for old bullets in Hunters bog, Smoking a plant extract on top of the crags, sliding down the hill in the snow in old feed bags..... you name it we did it.
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