Adventure – Charlierobinsonbooks

Where it All Began 4

Jersey

So there I was, seventeen-years-old, sitting on a plane heading to a far away island. My first view of Jersey didn’t disappoint, but I had just left a Bradford council estate where, after my first happy ten years as a countryboy, it had been cold, raining and totally depressing, so the bar was pretty low. I had become a different person during the years in Bradford, and not a particularly nice one. All it seemed to have taught me was how to fight and drink, but I had escaped.

I wondered what kind of reception I would get. I had some ideas. Fantasy Island wasn’t released until a year later but that it was the kind of image I had imagined.

There was a distinct lack of hula hula girls with flowers in their hair. No sophisticated, enigmatic Mr Roarke or a helpfull Tattoo, just a copper looking at me as I trudged past with my battered suitcase and an old guitar on my back. I left the airport, caught a bus into town and did what any sensible person would do. I went to the Tourist Information Office and asked if they had a list of B&Bs. There was one priced at £2.50 per night (remember this was 1976). When I arrived I saw an attractive brunnette leaning on the wall outside, she turned out to be the owner. I was 17, I wasn’t going anywhere else.

Now they say you make your own luck, I guess that could be true. It turned out her husband was a self employed uphosterer and could do with some cheap labour. Even at £1 an hour I jumped at the chance. He was also a sports diver/competition spearfisherman. Now we were talking. I had been watching Jacques Cousteau for many years, so diving was right at the top of my list, even after experiencing Mr Spielberg’s Jaws.

One day a friend of my new employer turned up, Peter. He’d heard I wanted to learn how to spearfish. “Jump in the van.” he said. “Why?” I asked. “You’ll need some gear.” He drove me, one by one, to each of his friend’s houses. He told each friend which piece of equipment they no longer used or had never used, and they were to give it to me, and by lunchtime I was fully kitted out. The next few months I was in the sea at every opportunity. In a spearfishing competition you enter the sea at 10am and have until 4pm to catch as many fish as you can. I was hooked (maybe that’s a pun).

One Saturday after a gruelling six hours in the water we were relaxing in the Yatch Club when my employer told Peter. “You should take young Charlie on your trip.” Apparently he was planning to head to the Canary Islands in September living out of a camper van and fishing to survive. The trip would last seven months, returning the following March. “Wanna come?” he asked. Did I want to come? 😂

So it was arranged, six months after arriving on the island and three months after my 18th Birthday I was going to be travelling 3,000km and spearfishing in the Mediterraen and the Atlantic while living out of a camper van. The plan was to take the car ferry to St Malo, drive through France to Spain and fish our way down the Spanish coast to Cadiz. A ferry would then take us to our final destination. A small village called Mogan on the island of Gran Canaria.

Felices senderos mis amigos 😉x

Where It All Began 3

Bradford

I’d had ten years living on two farms until one day it all changed. We were moving to a place called Bradford. I presume this came from mum as I later found out she hated the countryside. As for dad, he’d spent six years fighting the Germans, mostly in the desert with Montgomery and Rommel. Although I don’t think he had much of a relationship with Rommel. He just wanted a quiet life. So, off we went to a council estate in Bradford, the accommodation wasn’t quite what I had been used to.

It was all very exciting for the first week as I started exploring the council estate, but I soon discovered it was more or less the same wherever you went. During the second week I was beaten up by some other boys. After the third time I was beaten, I took some advice and joined the school boxing club. Drummond Road Boys School was a hell hole and features in the opening of my first book, The Siege of Mr Khan’s Curry Shop.

Mum and dad were working most days and nights in a Working Men’s Club at the other side of town. I became self sufficient by my twelfth birthday and I was feral 😂 I was smoking at fourteen, left school, started work and by my fifteenth birthday I was drinking regularly in Bradford city centre. I had certainly changed.

At seventeen-years-old, I’d had enough. There were several reasons for this. Looking around me I could see my future, and it was grim, but then one day I was chatting to an old bloke at work. I was an apprentice engineer in a factory. He told me I had a job for life, and he had been coming through those gates for fifty years. My first thought was, Ronnie Biggs only got thirty years, and he’d robbed a train. What had I done wrong?! The way it was back then is where I got the original idea for my first novel. The racsim especially from the skinheads was rife, and as ‘rockers’ we were firmly against it. There were often tussles (polite description 😂)

Dad died when I was sixteen-years-old and a year later mum wanted to go and live with one of my elder sisters. I decided to travel the world, and started to save for a Landrover. Sadly I was an impatient seventeen-year-old and so, with the few pounds I’d saved, I bought a cheap Austin 1800. I met a man at the back of some garages, who said I couldn’t test drive it. “It ain’t taxed, mate, and I still own it until the papers go through. You can drive it away though, if you give me the dosh.”

I paid him and drove away only to find it jumped out of third gear, of course, he’d gone when I returned to the lockups 😂. A mechanic friend informed me it was going to cost more than the car was worth to fix it.

Plan ‘B’ it was then! I decided to purchase a one way ticket to an island called Jersey. I was seventeen, had £70 in my pocket and I wasn’t coming back!

I wonder how many of you good people set out to do one thing and then ended up doing something completely different?

Happy Trails, Folks x

From Batman to Hawkboy: A Nostalgic Childhood Tale

The countryside and nature was in my blood, but this was the 60’s and I had been introduced to the world of Superheroes. Batman was on the TV every week and for a while I was hooked. I still have the soundtrack and the annual. 😂

I’ve never been a watcher, I always want to be involved, to be doing something. So, maybe it was time I tried my hand at this superhero business, naturally my first choice was Batman.

Don’t get me wrong being Batman was okay, and I felt inspired, but I was an impostor. I began to search for a yet to be discovered superhero. Difficult without Google🤔. Saturday shopping days meant I was dropped at the library in Wetherby while mum and dad did what ever they did in town. In 1240, King Henry VIII issued a Royal Charter granting the Knights Templar the right to hold a market in Wetherby every Thursday and so Wetherby was a Market Town.

But I was more interested in the wonders of the library. I approached the elderly lady who ran the library and enquired if she knew of the existence of a Hawkboy. She retrieved a copy of A&C Black’s Who’s Who and began to search, to no avail. Eventually I had to infrom her that he was a superhero. She looked puzzled for a moment and then explained it was unlikely a superhero would be listed as they have to submit the biography themselves, which may jepordise their anonymity. I think she took pity on me and added.

“There is a chap in Kirk Deighton who keeps hawks but he doesn’t have a son. So, if someone wanted to take on the role, I think it would be such an adventure.”

That was all I needed, I was over the moon and I began to create my alter-ego. From my base (a tiny cubbyhole under the stairs) I started work. I used my Wolverhampton Wanderers football shirt (yellow), an old pair of mum’s tights, my old trunks (yeah, I know, a therapist would love that!) The batman cloak, utility belt and mask was handy. My utility belt was stuffed with things like my pen knife, laser gun and some baler twine. All I had to do now was hide somewhere and wait for trouble.

When you’re the only kid on the farm there isn’t a lot of crime, but one hot summer’s day mum asked me to go blackberry picking. Would there be blackberry rustlers? I couldn’t take the chance. I wore my costume beneath my ordinary clothes, it was imperative to keep my identity secret. Mum was surprised I was wearing my long farmwork trousers but I won the debate. I was quite an insistent ten-year-old. “You’ll be too hot,” she sighed and we set off.

The sun got higher, burnt off the few meagre clouds, and the heat intensified. I began to pray for a villain, any villain, a naughty sparrow would have sufficed, I was Hawkboy afterall! I began to feel a little sick, my skin felt clammy and I was so thirsty. When I began to feel faint, mum took a good look at me and began to wrench my outer clothes off. I tried to repel her, but eventually I had no option but to reveal my identity. After calling me a, “Silly little bugger,” but promising to keep my alter ego secret, we agreed that Hawkboy could have a day off and I removed the supersuit. There were raised eyebrows when she saw her tights, but I explained how sacrifices have to be made for the safety of the planet. She replied, “Aye, that may be, but not today. Drink some water!”

Happy Trails, Folks x

Never Give Up

That’s my advice. I guess I could stop there, short post! But I’ve been called many things in my life and “Gobshite” is one of them so I’ll carry on 😂

I did a blog about going away at Christmas recently and while I was ‘away’ (which where I come from means in prison). Anyaways, I planned a fabulous January upon my return. I won’t bore you with all the details. Basically… Running, cycling, strength training. Preparing for the next marathon in April. Writing was in there too, I’m about 15,000 words into my third novel. It was going well, and on the 6th Jan I decided to run the 7 Hills.

This is a group of 7 Hills nearby, which I love. It’s only 11k, but as you can probably guess by the title… a little challenging. With 3k left, and powering downhill, I glanced at my Garmin, and realised it was probably going to be a fast time. That’s when I found myself on the ground. Luckily my head hit first, they say where there’s no sense there’s no feeling😉. I checked the nose was still in position and the tooth as they both hurt a little. After I’d lain there for a few minutes all seemed okay, so up I jumped to find a stabbing pain in the chest. I’ve been told I’ll drop dead running a few times so, I thought I’d better crack on, and see if I could finish the run. After I had run another 1k or so I realised it wasn’t a heart attack, but probably a broken rib. I returned home to find a cut head too and an eye already blackening, oh! and a wife, not happy I was doing it in the first place 😂 Twas a bit slippy.

So, why never give up? Well, after 49 years of running I’ve had more injuries you could count, but I always comeback. I’d give Bob Dylan and Cher a run for their money 😂 So, no matter where you are, or who you are, when times are tough, just remember, Never Give Up. There’s always someone or something out there, in your corner, willing you on.

I’m nearly 3 weeks in to this broke rib thing, got a serious cough and cold, but today I did 3k on the Elliptical, tomorrow it’ll be 5k and then first run next week. Maybe, just maybe, I might achieve my 3:30 target for that Marathon. Although my wife tells me I will die running, I tell her “Not today, though.”😉

Happy Trails, Folks X

Climb Every Mountain

Nope, you’re quite safe, I’m not going to dress as a nun and start singing. This year, or should I say last year, we decided to go away for the Christmas and New Year period. I’m not a Grinch but I’ve never really been much of a fan of either of them. I think I may have been traumatised as a child. Look at the photo and you may see what I mean. 😂

So… we decided to do some winter sun, training in Gran Canaria. Sunshine, runs, hikes and hopefully a bit of horse riding. Oh! did I mention the wine and the food? Although to be fair that was taken in the evening unlike some of my fellow compatriots, beer and cocktails at 10am isn’t really my thing. First up was a run every morning. I found a nice 12k run, to and, along the beach and another one around a great park, called Parque del Sur.

Once we’d settled in and my wife had achieved her 10,000 kilometers since she started running (yeah, I know targets, and all that stuff, but it keeps her happy😂) It was time for the gee gee’s. It’s years since I have ridden a horse, mainly because I don’t like the English way of riding. Whereas the American way is so much more comfortable. Probably why most of the rest of the world use it. We drove up into the hills and booked on for a trek. It was the only cloudy day so a good choice.

The food was amazing, but hey! This is Spain, right? What else would it be, so I was kinda over indulging. I decided to repeat my marketing idea from last year and took one copy of each of my books, and left them on the hotel libary shelves. I thought it was a smart marketing plan as the hotel caters all the year round and can accommodate 1000 people. I was quite excited when the first book disappeared and even more excited when the second did the same. Sadly six days later, they still hadn’t returned. Maybe I won’t write a note inside anymore, and sign them. I figured some fool thought they may be worth something and took them home.😂

It was time to get some hiking done. The hiking in Gran Canaria is excellent. We picked some great days. My favourite was a hike to Roque Nublo I was told by a friend on the hike they have a 126k Ultra race there in March. With a 22,000ft elevation gain. Now that sounded fun but it’s a tad pricy with a 200 euro entry fee and a 270 euro manadatory medical.

It was a chilly start but once the sun broke over the hills and you got out of the valleys it was a beautiful day. Although, someone commented that Roque Nublo appeared to be a long way away.

Apparently a lot of the pines had been chopped down before General Franco came to power. When he was in power he realised how important they were to the island. The needles gather moisture from the clouds and the mist and then they release water into the ground. Hence the nickname ‘Cloud Gatherers’. One tree will provide 150 litres of water per annum. Franco ordered a stop to the felling of the trees and implemented the planting of them which still goes on today. 90% of all the pines in Gran Canaria have been planted by mankind.

As we climbed futher the visibility was so good we could see Tenerife and the summit of it’s volcano Mount Teide at 3718m it is the highest peak on Spanish soil. Maybe next year? 😉

At another point we could see Roque Bentayga. It was here, in 1483, the native Guanche people won a victory over the Spanish Conquistadors. Sadly it was short lived and the Island was conquered soon after.

Roque del Fraile or the “Praying Monk” was our final view before we reached the summit and Roque Nublo. I’ll let you work out why it’s called the praying monk.

And there we were. Roque Nublo. It was quite a hike but well worth it. All we had to do was get back down. 😂

Happy Trails, Folks x

A Greek Hike and a Marketing Idea

I like Kalamaki on the island of Zakynthos because they have turtles. This means there are no late night flights. I guess if I was a turtle meandering up a beach, to lay my eggs, I wouldn’t appreciate being buzzed by a Boeing 737. Suits me fine as I like early morning flights in and out. I’m a lazy git on holiday, I lie around reading and soaking up the sun. Although I’ll fit in one run and hike, and so decided to hike up Mount Skopos to the monastery.

There’s something about a long run or a hike that frees your mind, but also helps you ponder. I guess that’s an oxymoron? Which as a child, I thought was a stupid donkey. Anyaways, I’d taken a copy of my first book, The Siege of Mr Khan’s Curry Shop on this holiday with a mind to read it. As I walked I had an idea, more of that later because this is the hiking part. It was a great trail, and so quiet.

I’ve seen some peculiar viewing points over the years but never graffiti and sunlounger halfway up a trail.

Once you reach the top there are spectacular views of the island and of course the monastery. The exact date the monastery was built in is unknown but 1453 was a guess by a local I spoke to. It was destroyed in the earthquake that shook Greece in 1953 and rebuilt in 1962-1963.

After a rest in the café, yup there is an actual café up there run by a lovely lady, who kindly offered us a glass of water when we reached the top. After a bite to eat it was time to head back down.

Getting back to the idea I had earlier, with my book. I wrote a note inside the front cover and left it on the hotel library shelf. It disappeared for a day then reappeared and disappeared again. It’s still there now. I’m not sure if this is a good marketing ploy or been done before, but I thought over a thousand holiday makers visit the hotel every year, so why not? I’ll leave a book in every hotel I visit from now on with a little message. 😉

Happy trails, folks. x

The Heat Is On

I should be able to publish my second book in August and my third book is underway, but I have another challenge in one weeks time. After six months of various injuries I have missed so many runs. This affects my writing because a lot of planning is done on long runs. Now I’m back, I managed to secure a place on the Yorkshire Wolds Ultra. It’s a 55k race with 4,100 feet of elevation. So, a little recce was required. The Millington Loop is only 34k with 3,000 feet elevation, but it gave me chance to assess fitness, the views from the top of the Yorkshire Wolds are lovely, and in 27 degrees of sunshine it was a warm one.

Needless to say five hours out in the middle of nowhere, on your own, certainly gives you time to think. I killed a character off and then resurrected them, changed the plot completely, reintroduced an old character, and decided on an ending for the next book 😂 I guess it’s a little like therapy, but on the move and without a therapist, haha. My wife has told me I could benefit from therapy, but never to do it. She feels I may leave the practitioner with some form of traumatic disorder 🤷

Five hours was a bit slow, but that’s what happens when you stop to take photos and admire the view. I thought the circles at Thixendale were a mystical, archaeological site dating back thousands of years. But they were created by the artist Chris Drury in 2011. Oh well, I didn’t waste too much time praying to the long lost God’s of my ancestors 😉

So, if you do ever feel a little down, I can suggest getting out into the countryside, wherever you live. Run, walk, crawl, if need be. But in comparison to concrete, tarmac and the facilitation of life, it’ll certainly help.

Happy trails, folks x

What a Difference a Day Makes

I probably don’t need to tell you, but nature is such a phenomena in so many ways. I have started my new book a few weeks ago and was really struggling with the theme. I had the first half of Chapter One written, but I wasn’t sure what it was I was trying to write. The answer? Hike, get outside, climb the hills and let mother nature give you the peace and inspiration you need.

After two hours of hiking up, what we call, the 7 Hills I had the storyline mapped out, This will be the third book featuring Billy Lynch, his friends and family. The trouble that boy and his father get into is… believable, well kinda 😂

After the tranquillity of the forest and the hills and the turn in the weather I decided this week a trip to the coast would be in order. There is something awesome about rough seas. As a young man I once had the privilege of spearfishing during a storm in Gran Canaria. These days when I look out to sea I wonder if I was actually quite mad. But the today’s trek served it’s purpose as I walked I was inspired to write the darker side of the next book. Needless to say not everyone will survive. Ah, days can be so very different 😉 Happy Trails, folks x

Santorini

I was told Santorini was the most beautiful of all Greek Islands. I often wonder who comes up with this information. I mean yeah… it’s beautiful, but more beautiful than Kefalonia? I suppose it could be. It has whitewashed villages chiselled into the hillside with their blue… sorry AZURE rooftops. Apparently if you use the word AZURE instead of blue it gives you a heightened state of relaxation🤔. There are, of course the sunsets, these are the best sunsets in the world. So I am told.

If you’re seeking culinary delights on holiday then Kamari in Santorini won’t disappoint. The Voodoo Bar has a fabulous menu so, we had to go back twice. As an avid fish and seafood fan, a Greek island is always a food adventure for me and this place didn’t disappoint. Crispy calamari and whole sea bream was lush.

“What about the running?” I hear you ask, or not but you should know me by now. There are some great places to run or, if you’re not a heat lover like me, you can walk. I found a hill and I love hills, it was at the far end of the village. It led to Ancient Thera, built in the 8th Century BC at the top of the hill (although they call it a mountain) so, my wife suggested we walk it the day before and hide a bottle of water at the top. What a great idea! Ancient Thera is a surprise for you at the top, though. Quite a vast ruin and steeped in history.

The day before I planned to run, as I say, we walked to the summit, the mistake we made was walking up the road and down the trail. It would have been much better the other way around. The road was fairly easy.

The trail coming down… not so much 🤣

The following day I found running up and down that hill looked tough but was a lot easier than it looked and in the heat of a Grecian sun was so enjoyable.

On the final day we visited the volcano at Nea Kameni, this is nothing like Etna as the crater is underwater but sparked the legend of Atlantis. It’s main eruption around 1645BC wiped out the Minoan Civilisation with columns of ash and gas reaching kilometres into the air and and a massive tsunami.

So that’s about it my friends, we got to see the famous sunset from the boat as we headed home and I guess as sunsets go it was OK (bearing in mind I am a Yorkshireman 😉)

Happy Trails x

The Godfather

I read this book way back in 1973. I had seen the film in late 1972 and was eager to see how the book by (Mario Puzo) compared, or vise versa. I remember my girlfriend’s mother refused to let her go with me because it was too violent. I was 15 and we lived on a Bradford council estate. I could only surmise that my girlfriend hadn’t told her mother of our exploits and the fights between my group of mates and the local skinheads. 😂 The movie is a superb adaptation of the book, which is a rare thing even in those days. The dialogue in many places is like for like and so fans of the book were not disappointed. Maybe that’s why it has been so popular and timeless?

Move on 50 years and I find myself scampering round the back streets of Savoca, Sicily. If you are not familiar with the place, it is set on a mountainside and is one of the most beautiful villages in Sicily. It is also the location of a scene from the Godfather movie. The Bar Vitelli in Savoca is the bar where Michael informs the owner that he intends to marry his daughter, Apollonia.

The bar is now a popular tourist haunt (isn’t everywhere?) It’s full of memorabilia from the film and you can treat yourself to a ‘peasant’ dish of eggplant and cheese on bruschetta for a mere 18 euros.

It is also where the wedding of Michael and Apollonia was filmed and the famous walk down the hillside to the town. What surprised me most was when I went into Google maps the “Wedding Walk” is actually shown as a route 😂. If you are a Godfather fan and do get the chance to visit Savoca in Sicily I can recommend it. Apart from the Bar Vitelli it’s a beautiful place to explore.

Happy trails, folks x