Peak District Trip November 2015

 

Overcrowded living conditions

A surfeit of PHs

Ironic heat exhastion / heat stroke

Fall from height at night

Car crash with baby in a bush

 

CUWMS Walk to Ely September 2015

 

Snowdonia Trip August 2015

 

Ogwen Valley Mountain Rescue Team

Snowdon via Watkin pass and down by West ridge

Hypothermia

Snake Bites

Massive Airway burns at 3am

 

Lake District Trip March 2015

 

Wild walking

Stabbings and drunkards

Massive multi-casulaty climbing scenario - lowering off a cliff

The end of the reign of Lord A - our benevolent dictator!

 

Snowdonia Trip November 2014

 

"One Day From Retirement" aka "What happens when you let Cormac write the trip report"

 

by Cormac Doyle

 

 

06/11/14

 

“Old Dig Big Smoke”. This is what was engraved on the back of a watch the Chief handed me this week, to say good luck in retirement and thanks for busting your ass at this job for 40 years, Detective. They're not exactly a creative bunch down at the station; I'm old, gruff and smoke 40 a day on the good days. I'm pretty sure the watch came from the evidence locker and belonged to a drug pedaller I busted last month...

 

40 years is a long time at any job, and at this one it'll leave you with 3 ex-wives, no kids, a smoking habit worse than Joe Camel, and a blood alcohol level that leaves you wondering whether you should just get a tattoo saying Bourbon on your forehead to cut down on "chit-chat" at the bar. I have a good dog though, named Scot.

 

You spend that long at a job you can’t help thinking about it and why you got into it. I was young at the start, and I got into it for the same reasons as the rest of the idiots: I want to catch the bad guys and make this city a better place. Noble intentions, eh? Course what none of us think about is why hasn’t someone got round to doing that yet? And then you get into the job and you don’t really notice that no matter how many “bad guys” you catch there always seems to be more the next day. And how come some of these “bad guys” we catch don’t seem that bad? And why can we never seem to catch the really bad ones? 40 years is a long time, and you realise that stuff isn’t all that black and white, and maybe you didn’t make one lick of difference to the shitty shade of grey that keeps this city like it is. I don’t know…. I’m just rambling, but there are days when I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything in my time, and I definitely didn’t do what I got into it for. So when the boys upstairs started hinting I was getting long in the tooth (they couldn’t even come out and say I was old because of all this “PC” bullshit, they just started asking, “ Where do you see yourself in ten years?” IDIOTS) I realised it was time to hand in the badge and the gun. Don’t have any real plans yet beyond walking Scot in daylight instead of at night.

 

So, this is all about the case that landed on my desk, one stinking day before retirement.

 

Suspected Homicide. 3 hikers missing. Fourth time it has happened to groups staying in a cabin called, "Snowdon view" in the Snowdonia area.

 

I had orders to head down with a group of cadets in their final year at the academy, and some lab geeks to figure out what was going on, and see if I could show them what detective work outside of a text book was like. Keeping in line with the recent memo about "smart resource allocation", they decided to send a 62 year old, arthritic detective to stay in a cold, damp shack in the middle of winter, and lead an investigation that would likely involve more hiking than a pilgrimage to Mecca. We are led by some of the best in business…….

 

 

07/11/14

 

So we split into 4 squad cars and headed to Snowdon View. On the way down Detective Burke told me the cadets were trying to spook each other saying that the hut was haunted, and the killer we wanted was a ghost. Idiots. Looking on the “Sunny side of things” – The stammering fool of a station psychiatrist, I was forced to spend 4 agonising hours with, before being discharged as “unresponsive to therapeutic intervention” taught me that phrase - I realised I could have fun tormenting some of my junior “colleagues”.

 

My squad car arrived first at the hut. I quickly scouted out the area and the layout of the building, then I got ready to have my fun. I hid in the wardrobe of one of the bunk rooms the cadets would be staying in, and made the ones who arrived with me keep their mouths shut. I waited until the next car arrived, keeping quiet until the cadets came upstairs to the bunk room and scared the shit out of them. It was priceless, and the best bit was I told them to keep their mouths shut and got to do it to every car. Not one of those greenhorns tried to jump me or even protect themselves - so much for the certified combat training at the academy. Even Cadet “Black Belt” Schumann just jumped back in fear. What these kids don’t realise is you can’t learn about the real world by going to a class room.

 

Well, that was my fun for the day. By the time we got to the hut it was pretty dark so I decided to hit the hay and get as good a night's sleep as my prostate would let me.

 

 

08/11/14

 

I woke up at dawn to go to the toilet for the 7th time that night and decided I might as well get started. I had a strange night’s sleep. That house groans like the springs in a prostitute’s bed. Heh maybe there is a ghost after all. I woke the cadets with a rendition of “Bear Necessities” and got them ready to search the area.

 

We set off on the route the missing hikers were believed to have taken. There is something damn satisfying about being on the trail of a murderer, almost makes me feel thirty again. If I’m honest there wasn’t much of a trail to follow, but it was damn nice to be out in the fresh air.

 

The trail we were following had an easy enough start, but soon we started to climb and I could feel it in my hips. But I wasn’t going to let up in front of these green horns. We pushed on, then it started to rain and mist blew in. There wasn’t much chance we were going to find anything out here, but we were past half way and kept going.

 

Against my better judgement, mainly to distract myself from the arthritis screaming from my hip, I talked to some of the officers. I call them officers, but my God these kids are young, can’t believe they’ll have a badge and gun soon. It’s cliché, but talking to them reminded me how I felt when I started this job….. it was nice. They’re eager, they want to make a difference….. I’ll talk to them in forty years.

 

Highlight of the walk had to be watching Cadet Schumann fall face down in the mud and needing to be dragged out by two other cadets. My god these kids would not have got through 'Nam.

 

We got back to the hut and I was feeling uncharacteristically jovial. Detective Burke and I decided to cook up a chilli for the cadets. Over dinner, and one too many scotches, my tongue loosened a bit. These kids, they wanted to hear stories from my glory days. They can’t wait for it to be them following up leads an all the other crap; they were hanging on my every word. And I’ll be honest it felt damn good; a bit of admiration, a bit of respect, and just going over the good bits, the cases I could be proud of, the ones where I made a difference, where I did something good. Maybe I’ve become too cynical. I guess that was the choice in my day — become a god damn dirt-covered hippy, or become a bit more logical and critical of the world. But maybe I went a bit too far and lost sight of some things. I did do some good for this city, and while I didn’t fix it like I had dreamed, it would be worse off without me.

 

Anyway, the fires died down and the cadets went for some shut eye. I stayed up to write in this stupid journal. I headed to bed to try and get some shut eye in this goddamn creaky house…

 

09/11/14

 

In the morning Detective Thornback was briefing the cadets on what we knew so far. I went upstairs to accommodate my ever-growing prostate. The house was starting to give me the creeps, constantly moaning as if someone is sneaking around. I was walking back downstairs and I hear a creak and footfall behind me. Before I can turn I feel a hand push me. I grab for the banister. I miss. I’m falling. This is bad. I try to stop myself. I’m hitting every stair on the way. I hit the wall at the bottom of the stairs head first. I taste blood…… I try to get up…… My arm has no strength…... Look up the stairs, vision blurry…… There is a figure……. I blink, they’re gone...….I’m fading in and out….. This is it…... I come round again and Cadet Beh is holding my head and talking…... The others are doing first aid….. Thornback’s in charge, that’s good…… Us old dogs have to stick together…… They are doing everything right, but it doesn’t matter…..I’m getting cold….. We’re far way from help, and none of them are doctors….. they’re rolling me… I’m on a stretcher…. These kids….they’ll do the city some good……I hope someone will look after Scot……He’s a good dog. *

 

*No Cormacs were harmed during the course of the weekend.