Pyro's Yard v2.0

I like winter. I don't mind the cold, as long as I can wrap up against it. I don't mind the wet, as long as I'm warm enough. I especially love those cold, crisp days when your breath steams in the air and the frosty grass crackles under your feet. For a large number of years, I've loved it even more when my breath steamed and the frost crackled as I carried my kayak to the edge of another river, ensconced in thermals, fleece and drysuit, to launch myself into the whirling flow to see what the river and I can cook up between us in the way of fun. But, the last two years I've been preciously short of those days. My confidence went to pot two years ago, after an error of judgement, lazy paddling and poor technique led to a nasty swim. Since then, I've shied off rivers, huddling inside my comfort zone like a sleeping bag. I emerged from it, briefly, for last New Year's Scotland trip, but definitely didn't paddle as much as I could have, or indeed should have

I used to float six inches off the ground, I was too weightless to ever be hurt. And I never knew the truth about untrue until I saw you in his shirt. It's always small things that break you open, they're the only things sharp enough The soft goodbye brush of your hand upon my face, your world exploding touch" (Fat Lady Sings - World Exploding Touch) Why chase the past? It hurts too much when you do. Looking up the people you cared about so long ago, finding they've all moved on. But you've moved on too, so why does it still give you that weird, melancholy, "jesus, if things had been different..." feeling. And the stupid part is that you know it's going to hurt, so why do it?! Why does that loose thread of past, that "I wonder what happened to so-and-so...", that "maybe she's still around..." pick at the back of your mind from time-to-time, to the point where you just have to go looking. It's all to easy to look these days,

...New tricks? A couple of interesting bits going on this week. One, I turned 29. Not astounding in itself, birthdays happen every year, but anyway. This year marks my 20th year of kayaking, believe it or not. Definitely an Old Dog, then, in paddling terms. So for some new tricks! Monday night at the LUUCC session, Jon Fuller (King of the Wave) was teaching me - or trying to, anyway - to cartwheel. A lifetime of big boats with no pronounced edges has made me quite lazy with my edge control and 'body english' when I'm boating, so the idea is that some playboating, as much as I profess to hate it, will work on that propriaception and skill set, and hopefully improve my paddling. I realise some time ago that I've got some bad habits that get me into trouble every now and again, so I'm looking at this year as a chance to work on them. And hey, if all else fails, at least I'll provide some amusement for everyone else as I gurn around and fall over a lot. Cheers! Pyro

Opportunity waved my way again, briefly, and I'm out in Portugal right now for the Adventure Race World Championships, with Team Cruachan . I'll be providing various reportage for them, including (possibly) a new blog site. I'll let you know though! Cheers Pyro

Jeez, why do I only blog when things are a bit weird? Ach well... WHy the title? Well, It's true. It's a song lyric as well, which sticks to something I'm comfortable with. Things haven't been good recently. Most people won't have noticed this, because it's not something I've let on too much. But there's been a couple of pretty stressful moments, and they've had more of an impact than even I thought they would. The first issue was my car, the wonderful Fifty Quid Toyota, being delivered a sad verdict when it went in for servicing and MOT. Too much work to do, and too little time and money to do it meant it was officially and End Of Life Vehicle, and time to get rid. A shame, because it was a great car. So, Pyro went looking for something within his budget, which frankly wasn't very much, and came out with a decent little motor. Or so he thought... A seemingly endless sequence of electrical issue later indicated that it wasn't quite the barg

A few new pics over at the Photoblog (the link's on the right of the screen there!) Go have a look. Pyro

Hey up. A little snowed under with work at the moment - although thankfully it isn't all 9-to-5 grind! Went out to Spain for the Bimbache again - thanks to Antonio and Rob for that one - and it was great to see a bunch of people again, Anne-Marie and Fred in particular. Also grand to meet a whole bunch of new people - Geoff, Jacques and Elo - to form the so-called 'International bunch'. A few beers, a lot of bad humour and a great time, thanks guys. Anyway, I put a few feelers out when I got back, and a couple of them have paid off, so watch out for articles and photography by Carrick 'Pyro' Armer appearing in sports magazines in the not-too-distant future! I won't jinx myself by saying which just yet, in case they don't go out, but I'll put a blog up when they do! Cheers, take it easy Pyro

So - a hysterical attempt at trying to get fit again. At trying to run more. At trying to meet people to race with. Anyway... Ran the Deerstalker earlier in the year - no blog about it because I'm lame - and ran a whole load better than I thought I was going to: 2:31 including a bit of standing about waiting for Elise and Jon (ha ha ha...). That's 8 minutes faster than previously, and it could have been 12. Had I done more training over the winter that would have been even more. But I didn't, so that's a moot point. So, a conversation first on SleepMonsters and then by email about doing some racing over summer and therefore a bit of motivation to do some training and some informal races over the early season. So I thought I'd start with the Jack Bloor, a 5 mile fell race starting from Ilkley Hmmm. Not the best of ideas! The picture above shows the route. Little bit steep. And I'm not in a good state. But, that said, I got round. It wasn't fast or pretty, bu

"Well I will be your roof, your shelter from the storm, your footing against the wind. And I'll mend for you my dear them holes that have been torn, and I hope our paths will cross again" Okay, that isn't supposed to be as depressing as it sounds. I'm sat in the kitchen, in my PJs, with a large mug of strong black coffee and some blues/country music on the stereo - If you don't know him already, look up a guy called William Elliott Whitmore. A young man with the voice, lyrics and style of a 60-year old bluesman. Evidently had a hard paper round, but he's pretty amazing. - Anyway, it's Valentine's day. St Valentine, who has absolutely nothing to do with love and romance at all. Maybe I should say it's Lupercalia, the ancient Roman festival of fertility, rather than celebrating the feast of a very confusing and possibly fictional saint who, thanks to Chaucer, now is the patron saint of Hallmark tat (as well as beekeepers and epileptics. Go figure