Easter 2023

For this Easter weekend, I got pretty enthused about the concept of stage-walking the coast of the uk with the dog. I made vague plans to start locally with the ugly stuff then progress from there. I studied trains & almost booked hotels or an air BnB. I even fully packed for 4 days then chickened out (completely/de-rated it to a Peak bivi). There were too many unknowns: bank holiday trains, how the dog word do, how I would do, whether the dog will camp.

We ate at the Sportsman with TSK then walked into the night. My wisdom to wear lightweight shoes was tested when I got adventurous, crossing White Stones edge and bog hopping with Lena but at least the grass was dry. The dog scanned back and forth across the hillside chasing rabbits in the darkness and I got a little grumpy as she pulled me off balance while I tried to balance on stones and tussocks.  Still, I reminded us both, out loud, that at least we weren't at Immingham Docks.

We ran out of energy in an unfamiliar place as the breeze picked up so l emergency pitched a shelter. I was panicking so much it was a case of third time lucky.

First we found a spot that was completely out of the wind behind a big boulder but very lumpy. I realised how tired I was that, having sat down to assess the situation. I immediately started to think that I could (or would) just sleep sitting up for a few hours. As soon as I started to unpack a few things I realised that was a fucking ridiculous idea. Surely there was a better spot? 

The problem was, every time we moved I risked one of us breaking a leg as the moss between boulders would suddenly slip or give way exposing the chasm beneath. More than once I got a shoe temporarily stuck between 2 rocks. 

My second attempt had a slightly flatter area and my main challenge now was trying to persuade the dog to move from the bed she had very effectively hewn from the bracken and peat. Again, I got out my human bed and very quickly concluded that although the space was possible the really sensible thing was to head to the bottom of the edge where sheep trots created plenty of flat places to sleep. The only challenge then was finding a suitable wind block. Really, I failed in this respect and the dog knew I had failed her and wanted to go back to her first spot. That was a major challenge as my kit was still spread all over the hillside since scrambling over the boulder field with a 14kg rucsac on my back was too dangerous. Thanks to her desire to get back to her own bed, I was able to find all my kit (I hope) and relocate it to our new spot while the dog sulked that I had moved her to a less-convenient location. With the bivi fixed I braved a breezy tarp pitch to keep off the residual wind that was shedding off the tiny rock I was claiming for my home.

The tarp pitch was sound, but unfortunately my bivi bag kept sliding out from underneath it! Eventually we had a home. Thank god it wasn't raining. Once pitched the dog settled down to sleep in the hood of the bivi with her head on my mattress. She shunned her mat and blanket all night + slept soundly. It was me who had issues - with my bladder, the bright moon, the flapping tarp noises, cold legs. At one point I heard a noise which sounded like one of my bags blowing away. There was the scratching of bracken and doggy snoring. 

I'd closed the mesh so Lena couldn't escape in the night but it wasn't enough to keep out the full moonlight and I couldn't close the solid door or we'd both suffocate. Eventually, after my second pee, hitching up the biv bag so it couldn't slip, adding goretex trousers, finding my earplugs, I got comfortable and cosy around 2:30am. The dog mostly stayed where she was put and rolled her eyes at me faffing. I think she got up and shuffled her position once in the night. 

After getting to sleep at 2:30am we had a lie in the morning. Whether anyone saw us (dark green amongst the bracken) I do not know because I was unconscious till 8:30am.  

I packed everything away rather than brew up. I lost the inflation bag for my mattress, assuming that was what I heard blowing away in the middle of the night, so the first thing we did was wander up or down looking for it, to no avail. 

I stopped to brew up some food at 9am before we joined the hoardes of people walking over Stanage Causeway. There was a nice big flat slab of warm rock so it would have been rude not to.  Lena was good apart from attempting to drink my Coffee water - merely reflecting my incompetence as a dog-mum. Fortunately I still had enough water for me to donate my mug of water to her and pour myself a fresh one without dog slobber in it.  

We looped over to Stanage, had a pee at the toilets then walked down past North Lees to Hathersage for lunch and to see if anyone sold exped inflators.  Outside did not so instead I settled for new insoles to stop my feet hurting so much and a peaked cap to keep the pesky sun out of my eyes. I couldn't decide what to do next as this plan was a bit last-minute.  We started heading for Grindleford then changed my mind to go back home over Bamford Edge with the option of getting the train home from there. My mattress was still playing on my mind and the thought of another chilly, even-less-comfortable night filled me with dread. We found somewhere to sit down for a paddle by the river and Lena slept next to my rucsac while I soaked in the atmosphere. I was almost sleeping & the dog was tired so getting the train home looked like a tasty prospect. I could have emptied out all my bags on the beach to look for my rucsac inflator again, but I didn't.

It had been drifting in and out of my conscious for the last few hours that the only remaining place I'd not really looked for my mat inflator - I mean *really* looked - was inside my bivi bag. While I had shaken it out, I'd not looked for a floaty lightweight polyester bag of air.

I got to the end of the path before sitting on the rucsac to get my phone out and see if there were trains - of course it was just about to arrive. As we walked under the railway line, it reassuringly rumbled past overhead. I almost hoped it was the last train so we had an excuse to head out for one last bivi. The evening was just getting more and more pleasant as the bright sun started to show signs of setting. 

The cricket club in Bamford was hosting a motorbike a sidecar rally and we almost begged to camp on the fringes but if we were going to get another bad nights sleep we were going to do it somewhere lovely, not Sandwiched between a railway, an A-road and a children's playground. At the end of the lane my brain just crashed, caught between the route to the station or backtracking to the path to Bamford to head back up to the edges & sleep amongst the bracken.

My responsibilities as a dog owner kicked in though and by the time we got to the station and bought a ticket, 35 minutes had passed and there were only 25 minutes to wait. When the dog duly celebrated me taking off my pack by curling up right next to it to sleep, I took it as a sign I'd done the right thing and duly joined her on the floor.

I've learned that getting her up and mobile can take a couple of minutes so at 1840 I got her up on her feet and she happily watched the train roll in. She usually loves an automated door. We have trouble keeping her out of shops and banks. I got on the train with my rucsac carefully balanced on one arm and dumped it next to the nearest folding seat only to find resistance on the lead and the dog wide-eyed in full-on STOP! mode with the door beepers on the train sounding.There was no patient waiting for the obedience training to work.  I yanked just hard enough that it didn't pull her harness off right over her head. Thankfully she made it into the same space as me and my kit before the train doors closed. She spent the rest of the journey calmly sat between my legs watch­ing the countryside, then city, roll past the window.

We got TSK to drive us home because when you can't walk another step, you can't walk another step and we were starving hungry by 1906 when the train got into Sheffield.  The homeless guy in the station got short shrift for not getting his words out fast enough as we strode past in search of TSK and the van.

Back at home we all ate Chinese food (just scraps for the dog) and fell into bed to sleep away the miles and catch up from getting to sleep at 2:30am on Friday morning. We'd packed in 24 heavily weighted Kms and 4 hours sleep into 26 hours.

Saturday was for sorting out the kit. Getting to the bottom of that nagging feeling that if I just looked hard enough I'd find my mattress inflator and if that failed, I'd go back in daylight, un-laden and hunt amongst the rocks and if *that* failed, I'd buy a new one. I carefully unpacked every dry bag but then yes, there it was, at the very bottom of my bivi bag - squished but perfectly accessible as it had been swinging on the outside of my pack all day. A tiny bit of me kicked myself for not finding it yesterday and spending another wonderful night under stars. My back and ankles were perfectly happy to be back home, sat on the sofa, drinking in the cafe and pottering around the house ticking off improvements for the next trip. I went pet food shopping then took Lena for a spin in Greno woods in the sun and we couldn't have been happier, unloaded and free and able to go back to bed when we needed to.

We have an order in for doggy saddle bags for her to take a little of the load and I've started paring down the size of her kit after I discovered her sleeping bag (home made from off-cuts) is 750g and she didn't use her sleeping pad at all, or need any food supplemental "special sprinkles" because she just wolfed down the dry food I gave her without question. 

There's a way to go.  When I add back in my stove, fuel, mug, my emergency food, we still come in at more than I'd like to carry long distances so I have to rethink my priorities and either get fitter or downscale my ambitions to walk 20km every day - though as with all these things, you might as well start and train into it. 

 Maybe we'll not start off at Immingham docks though.

Looking for help or "1 - THE COME-BACK"

The preamble 

On Friday afternoon I was crying in the carpark of the GP surgery. It wasn't crying. It was sobbing.  

An all-encompassing grief for the loss of youth and vitality. Mourning my demise. If this is what ageing looks like I don't want to get old. I was desperate to get my hands on a prescription to get rid of "Glue Ear." This annoying condition has me deaf on one side, the fluid in my eustacian tube will not drain. I have nothing to listen to but the drone of my own voice, my breathing and my heart rate. The prescription was locked in Nhs beaurocracy and right then, right there, that prescription was my only hope for a return to a normal life. When I speak, I feel like I'm shouting at people. At work it isn't great. I've stopped exercising due to the noise of the asthmatic heavy-breather chasing me everywhere I go. To top it all off the boiler failed and I couldn't fix it.

So I cried. Then I rang nhs 111 and went through the menu system.

Here's the commentary:

• • •

Hi. Please tuck off and use the internet. 

If you're an idiot or luddite and need the internet texting to you press 1.

If you're still sick press 2.

If you have covid fuck off.

If you don't know what covid is yet look at the internet and fuck off.

Do your teeth hurt? Press 1 

For all other illnesses Press 2

Please wait to be diverted to your local nhs. 

If you have covid fuck off.

If you don't know what covid is yet look at the internet and fuck off. 

Do your teeth hurt? Press 1 

For all other illnesses press 2 

If you have covid, fuck off unless you're actually dying.

If you're actually dying, ring 999.

Are you still here? Press 2.

Once I had navigated this menu, I met the most compassionate person in the nhs, the automated queuing voiceover who reassured me I was still seriously ill and someone would be with me shortly.

After calls back at 1am, 6:45am and 10am, I finally had a new GP appointment at the walk in centre to go through the same stuff all over again but finally got my prescription back in my sweaty tear-stained paws. I celebrated with my first haircut in 18 months, lunch in town, a trip to Boots the chemist and a shower at the gym on my way home.

The cycling bit

It was important that I got this sorted because at 4pm I was heading out with Landslide for my first bivi out in months. I know exactly how many months.

My last out was in June on the Jenn ride. In July, August, work took over my life. I feel fortunate to occasionally love my job and sometimes I don't mind long hours but I spent every Saturday recovering and Sunday getting ready to go back. For a short period it isn't a problem but sometimes it does go on and on with people taking more and more and more liberties over my life.

I'd finally found another balance point where I could get a day or two for me. 

L arrived on time and patiently chatted to TSK while I searched the house for random selections of bike- packing gear that had become disparately spread out around the house. The only thing lacking was a functional tool bag but I carried Landslide with me instead. Drama ensued when I realised, despite the warm evening, I couldn't survive with a bumbag and frantically transferred everything into my rucsac.

• • •

We hauled up and around Bole Hills, over to Coldwell Lane, through Fox Hagg into the setting sun and over to Stanage Pole, keeping one eye on the clock to make sure we arrived at the pub in time to eat.

Chris shot off down the causeway at warp speed, a testament to the lots of riding he's been doing while I have been a deaf granny. 

Also, I was wearing my sandals and not wanting to break toes on a crash and I was still struggling to get to grips with my bike again. The road held no such risks and we plummeted into the Yorkshire Bridge pub only to find they weren't feeding non residents so Chris rang the Ladybower whilst I loaded my stuff up and started the sprint over there, as soon as he said we had 10 minutes to place our order.

Glutes engaged.

• • •

L ordered. I bagged the table. We sat out in shorts and down coats and drank our usual and pretended everything was normal. We were quite convincing.

The only thing to get us moving was the sense of chill in the air. I went to the loo. The speakers played out Stephen Fry reading "Harry Potter". It was calming, soothing, womb like compared to the chill air outside. I wanted to stay. Clever marketing people.

We started the steady push up the rocky steep track onto the moor, walked out of cold air and into patches of warmth.

I mused about letting my streak of 30 BAMs go. I pondered that one day I would regret it. Would this be that day? My first in a new streak also felt good though.

-1- 

The Come-back.

L was questioning our sanity. Maybe we should've just curled up with Steven Fry in the toilets.. What? Sure? Sleeping in toilets. Yeah - like normal people. Have you heard us?

Then we noticed the moon, almost full, over the trees below Stanage North end and it made everything OK again.

• • •

We intermittently got on our bikes riding over towards the Derwent Edges. I got off more than not, my skills and balance just done for. Something wasn't right with my seating arrangement but I just put it down to the play in my dropper post because I sure as hell wasn't going to mess with it in the dark.

By the time we got near the summit I was done for. My core ached, my arms ached and my legs had no power in to pedal. For the third time I wobbled over on the gritstone slabs and fell onto the peat bog.

• • •

Thankfully it was dry and I did not even sink. I reverted to my current work mode of a determined trudge. At least I'm successful at stomping.

We passed a number of tents on our way but what I was really looking forward to was the rocky nook that Landslude and I reccied on another trip. We passed other features or stopped to water the heather before reaching our destination, manned by 2 other camping groups already.

In a gesture of not-quite-defiance I sat on a rock. I was exhausted. It wasn't the riding though. It was the week. It was life. I was so tired of it all.

• • •

Thoughts of just riding straight home played on my mind as the city twinkled in the distance but L convinced me there was another spot just around the corner and offered me jelly beans by way of motivation but I've eaten so much crap recently it just didn't appeal.

We put on head torches and trousers to keep the breeze off and busied ourselves rigging camp amongst damp earth and lichens, sheep shit and gritstone. Layers went on and bags rolled out. L set about brewing up his second meal of the evening. I sat and stared at my "Apple and Custard" desert and one aged tea bag. I wasn't really hungry but felt a little left out of the camping experience. Foggy cloud rolled in across the moor to complement the greyscale effect with backlighting from the now-obscured moon.

L asked if I felt better now, being out in nature. My flat answer was "not really" as I stared out at the grey. Damn it must be bad.

• • •

For a moment I lay down in my bivi bag, not even in my sleeping bag yet, and stared at the moor. This was ridiculous. Out of sheer need to do something other than wallow in my own depression I fired up my stove. The meticulous rigging, finding a sweet flat spot within reach, the slow unpacking of kit, the glow of the flame, the careful water pour, making tea with the leftover water or packing the lid down for it to brew.

I stirred the water into the custard powder, set the pouch on my lap inside my bivi bag and waited with the lights out for my mood to brew into something better. There was only distant sound from a few motorbikes. All other campers were either sound asleep or buffered from earshot by the gritstone crag.

Not quite enough water to make liquid custard but more like a fist-sized patty of yellow mush containing apple chunks. Still, the semi-solid mush tasted like egg custard from out of a tart and it was warm and actually it was good. Really good.

The tea went down well. I enjoyed cans of (I don't know what) and we talked - and didn't talk in perfect balance.

Each of us picked our own spot but gradually nature shaped us into a perfect L with my feet sliding down hill to gently butt up to his shoulder.

I adjusted my tyvek a little so that I didn't rudely kick him in the head all night.

When we went off to sleep I closed my bug net but I had a restless night, constantly getting up for a pee and in the end left my bivi open to the elements to let it breathe. For the first time in ages I slept outdoors without coat, gloves or hat on.  

An intermittent breeze occasionally flapped things but I just lay still and listened and watched the darkness until finally I relented and dug out my ear plugs. 

The dew had fallen outside the crag and I closed my frame bag to stop it getting any wetter but we were dry under the protective shelf of gritstone.

At 5am we were woken by grouse, seemingly debating these strange objects that had arrived on their territory. I knew L had to be home to take his son to football but I snoozed in for a while and he busied himself with his breakfast. The grey clouds disappeared in a whisper of breeze and by the time I was properly awake, colour had returned to the world

"Now. Now I feel better."

• • •

The porridge I brought had clearly been around for some time but eating it was better than not. It had a slightly acidic tinge to it. The coffee had been ground down to fine powder and topped up multiple times so it was very good.

I wobbled my saddle around to see how much play was in it. It slid back and forth on the rails taking my bag with it and I remembered it was a new saddle which I had bunged on there in a rush one weekend with a plan to fix it properly next time I rode the bike. Ok. No wonder my core was fucked and my undercarriage chaffed.

• • •

We watched a kestrel browsing for its breakfast then Landslide set off and left me with the spiders and the midges who made a sudden appearance as soon as the temperature hit just the right level and the breeze became less consistent. Despite the warm start to the day I put my gloves on.

Aware that we were reaching more sociable hours I packed up all my stuff but it was already warm enough to just sit out - given that I needed to stay in my waterproof trousers and long sleeve coat, just to keep the midges off.

• • •

For an age I just sat and stared at the moor - drinking it all in. Listening, watching, being. Finally I was happy again and I had some time to myself.

Ever since I started this bike packing journey I've had my eye on events - TNR, the winter ride, BB200, Braunton150, HT550, Trans Atlantic way. I realise I've never actually done it just for the joy of sitting around doing nothing. There's always somewhere to be.

My nothingness was broken up by the steady pitter-patter of mizzle.

Realising I had waterproof everything except socks I decided I should lay those tracks back towards home. I had two very important things to do before heading back to work that evening:

• Pack up my shit
• Eat some more
• Sleep some more

I stripped off the warm layers, left on the waterproofs as the mizzle matured into full-on rain and put on the thick wool socks I'd brought to sleep in in the hope they'd keep the rain off long enough. 

As I left the crag the lads from the other tent were teetering around in jeans and teeshirts and dressing into puffer coats to "keep the rain off". I left them to it and enjoyed the descent all to myself except a group of 4 female runners also enjoying the weather.

• • •

I took all the off-road I could to get home. At the road I could have turned left for the easy road ride to Bradfield and a roll down the valley road to home. Instead I turned right towards the bridleways.

The climb out of the gully on the road was easy -peasy on the mtb compared to the last 8 weeks of riding my confused gravel/road gear ratios on Dignity. The secure saddle position did wonders for my agility despite being tired from a night out.

Even the oncoming roadies were cheery. Clearly they hadn't wetted out yet. Then I left them all behind and climbed up 4x4 tracks to the farm, clanged through gates, said good morning to farmers and paused at the bridge over the river Rivelin to watch for the dipper before clattering through the allotments to home.

My socks only just wetted through. I was relatively warm and happy. Without a hot shower at home I reverted to sleeping-off my ride. 

I addressed the eating part by sharing dinner with TSK then drove over the Snake Pass in a contented fog to score myself a hot shower in the comforting environment of the same chain hotel in which I have spent many an evening, then passed out for the best sleep I would have for the rest of the working week.

January bivi 2021 - When you gotta go you gotta go

Home to Houndkirk on the mtb but ridden on the road to meet Chris. A bit of mucking about at the Norfolk arms trying to find my frend.

Another day when I wanted to ride but also, I didn't want anything to go wrong - and that's what was stopping me getting out. Eventually, I rushed late out the door.

I rode up the roads but by the time I left lodge moor with snow squeaking under my tyres I was in heaven. I rode over Houndkirk surrounded by snow-coated heather that looked like white sparkling broccoli in the beam of my bike light.

When I reached camp my buddy was sitting on a wall waiting for me. Through the trees to a clearing where his tent was pitched and there was a long, thin that spot for me set aside.

Despite my loft pitch-check of the bivi bag, l only managed to locate the sleeve for the pole with some serious hunting and swearing. Otherwise it went up fine. I pegged out the feet end but needn't have bothered as I think I pulled them out in the night and have to return to fetch the pegs I lost another time. I did peg out the guys on the hoop as an experiment.

We got ready for the morning. L brewed water while I got into my warm coat and snacked for as long as I could stand the cold then we admitted defeat and went to our separate beds. A "dune buggy" for want of any better terminology passed by, exhaust blowing and continued to bez about on the moors for half an hour. We chatted over the noise - mostly about the view I had from my bag - snow, trees, the moon, stars some lights twinkling far below in the valley, just visible over the wall. For once, having taken the 4 season bag, I was cosy & warm. After watching the outside for a while I got a little cold so pulled up the gore-tex door to keep the breeze out, leaving myself a small window of ventilation and a view of our camp.

The vehicle left and I drifted off. Another passed at 2am but thankfully, passed through the gate and pressed on. I was disturbed occasionally by the wind clattering the trees above us and that made me somewhat paranoid we were about to be invaded by a herd of deer but a quick peek out through the mesh revealed all to be still outside. Other than an owl hooting in the night and the occasional shiver that was offset by some vigorous wriggling I slept through till 7:30 waking up toasty warm with light busting through. On inspection, the sun was rising over the wall. 

 

I papped it from my bed, arm stretched over the wall then called out to L. At first he didn't stir and as he'd injured his back yesterday, I wondered about letting him sleep. He'd been here before, must have seen it like this already right?

As I watched things just got more impressive so I tried again and a drowsy L exited from his tent-clutching his camera. " Fucking hell!" was the awesome response. I'm glad I persevered.

I'd given myself a stiff back by only sleeping in one position so brewing up from my bivi wasn't an option. Instead, I decided to get up. One of the guy ropes had undone already. I took the other out to ease movement and sat on the porch of my bivi on my thermarest to make breakfast. Due to the fact no moisture was falling, it was a very satisfactory arrangement but I do still want to carry a porch when it's raining.

 

Coffee, porridge, honey, smiles.

L went home to rest, I changed the dead battery on my spot then turned the other way to ride over to Burbage. I had a chat with Caroline and her dog, another local bike packer I just met. We talked about shoes - or more specifically - winter mountain bike boots.

 

Over to Stanage, Nether Padley, Hathersage, Thornhill, avoiding the worst mud. I stopped at Ladybower for 2nd breakfast + got doggy cuddles from a female spaniel. 

 

Over the burms - direct line Hike a bike. Enjoying the snowy trees and ice formations. There wasn't much but it was enough.

 Riding past Lockerbrook farm was exciting and involved walking over the steepest ice before dropping down the fire road in preference to icy gnar. I ate my lunch on a bench, trying to share Karg with an inquisitive Robin until the female spaniel reappeared and scoffed it all. One they had gone, the Robin wasn't going to settle for that, got bold and picked up all of the crumbs I dropped at my feet.

 

At the bottom I debated heading straight home but I felt good, the weather was beautiful and I probably had enough rear light to get me home.

I turned away from the crowds at the visitor centre and headed on up to slippery stones where I stopped out of the breeze and enjoyed having the water to myself. The ducks were bold enough to ask for food again.

The ride back down to the village was uneventful. I'd considered the climb up by the Ladybower inn as the quick and easy way home but it wasn't tempting & as the ground started to harden up I decided cut gate path and Doctors gate was more doable. Either way the steep bit was a hike. At the hut I enjoyed a cereal bar with a mag­nificent view and the company of John Brierly and son on their evening run. After the worst of the icy puddles across the edges I nailed the final climb out and even managed not to fall in the heather on the descent. At the doctors bridge I nailed the descent with a PB, grace to the dry, amazingly grippy conditions.

It was still light climbing up to Moscar but drivers passed too close. I was definitely going to do the offroad home. I passed the Lodge and farm then rode across Rod Side where large ice puddles crossed the whole road and I had to ride on the grass to get any purchase. On the third one I crashed my gears and had to push then as I crossed the last one my chain clipped and then snapped and lay at my feet. There were 10km to go but at least they were mostly downhill. as the gritting lorry passed, I packed the chain away and set off down the hill, plotting the most efficient way home and all the time wondering if my hands would let me get away with stopping to fix the chain.

I gave up on my offroad route, descending Onkersley Lane all the way to the A57 which would allow me the most freewheeling and long flat stretches as a worst case. On the flat I soon realised that I could use the slightly higher curb to scoot my bike with my left foot and then I remembered I had my dropper post. Sinking that down 3 inches my feet touched the floor and I scooted the bike all the way along the flats and rested on the downhills then staggered, cold and exhausted up the final hill to home.

Terra Nova Jupiter Lite Dry run

The bivi not showing up in time for my birthday camp pissed me off somewhat but in retrospect, a better night was had by all thanks to me heading out with my tent for a chilly damp night with pouring rain.

Trying the new bivi outdoors for the first time in December last-minute with the potential to leave myself no opportunity to return it if I were disappointed was not a good plan so, I was saved from myself.  Now that the bivi has finally arrived, I have put off off pitching it outside until I've got a clear head to check out all the things it's supposed to address about the old bivi.

If you're in the market for a new bivi and, like me, are falling short on detailed reviews of the Jupiter Lite from Terra Nova which seems like such a good product but you'd really like to know more before committing £200 to a plastic bag, then read on.

One of my biggest bugbears was people reviewing it without actually seeming to have slept out in it.  Guilty as charged for now but I'll update this post after it's first tough outing - which I hope won't be too far away.

"The Unbagging"

First out of the bag impressions were good.  It was a little weightier than my Z-packs solplex tent but smaller in dimension - which was the point of a bivi bag.  The components are the bag, it's pole (with a pole bag) and 6 aluminium pegs which, after touring with 8 titanium pins, felt like the heaviest part of the pack.

I initially "pitched" the bivi in my loft with a plush carpet to hold pole ends and (obviously) no pegs.

The pole was easy to thread through, even though my hands were a little chilly from the cold loft.  There's a hole where the storm flap is which had me threading the pole into the wrong space until I realised there's a continuous sleeve for it in a slightly different location.  Now I've learned that though, I don't think I'll make the same mistake again.  However, it is possible to use the storm flap as an easy quick thread if your hands are really fooked and you're struggling and desperate for shelter.  So whether that was their intention or not, I've tested it and it's an option. Subsequent performance not guaranteed!

I threw my Rab Neutrino 400 sleeping bag in it and Thermarest Neo Air standard size mat and shook everything down and laid it out.  My first impression is that without any pegs, the hoop does a pretty good job of standing upon its own. I added a Thermarest inflatable pillow for extra comfort. 

 

It's also handy not to have the hoop pegged up because you can flap it forwards around your waist to scoot further into the bag - more wriggle room to get in and out.  Without the guys out though, the storm flap would be floppy leading drips to fall into the open bivi or onto your lap or back of your neck instead of rolling away, so I imagine on a rainy camp those guys will get pegged.

Talking of wet, another advantage I noticed when I got in it first time - even without thinking about it - I managed to keep my feet and bottom on the goretex skirt that forms the head end of the bag. I only needed to put my hands on the carpet ("muddy ground") so in terms of staying dry, this is a bonus.

The first test was the toe test.  The problem with the old bivi bag (Terra Nova Discovery Lite aka "The Disco") is insufficient loft for my feet in the space available. I tend to sleep either on my front or on my back.  On my front I lie with my feet off the end of the thermarest so I toss my sit mat to the foot of the bag to rest my feet on. I've done the same on the test for the Jupiter. 

I also tested it lying on my back with my toes pointing up.  The issue I have with the old bag is with my head undercover, my feet are pressed to the base where my size 9s squeeze all the loft and warm air out of the sleeping bag.  I have to say, with my toes right at the bottom of the Jupiter bag I have the same issue - but shuffle up the bag 200mm and yay! there's still loads of space for my feet to loft and stay warm.

Toes at the end

Moved back a bit

I guess I can use the feet end to store something - though I'm not sure what I'd want to stash that far out of reach! The point is, with my Thermarest scooshed up to give me very cosy feet, my pillow is still on the goretex floor of my bivi and there's more space to go.  At this point it's worth saying I'm not a normal sized woman.  I'm 5'11".  If you're a much taller person though, do some thorough research on sizing.

There doesn't look like much space here, but at this point I had the bag rucked up underneath me!

The hood test

I needed to stop thinking of this as a tent. I know if I want a tent-like shelter, I'll need to carry a tarp too so this is never going to replace my Cuban fibre tent which is lighter than the bivi by 1 ounce (28 g), not in any way breathable, a bit drafty and needs good pegging ground.  It's good for wild moorland locations where there's peggable ground and no-one to notice me or legal camping rights.

Before I bought the bivi, I knew how small the hoop height was because I measured it on me. I knew I wouldn't be able to sit in it but it was a bit taller than me lying on my side or upon elbows.

Here we are with the glory glow of the Loft window behind. I have so far been overjoyed at the ease with which I can fidget around in the bag without getting tangled. Even without pegs it's like someone holding the covers up so you can turn over. There's enough space either side of the neo-air mattress that I can move it into place by supporting myself on my elbows and toes.This is great for those awkward moments when you're finally inside it and realise you've pitched on an uncomfortable rock.

For a moment, I was wondering what had happened to the cavernous space I had been promised and realised the bag was rucked up underneath me. It was easy to straighten out. So pegging it out might have prevented the issue all together - or made discomfort more difficult to resolve.*

* That's something to be answered in a field test. 

With the 2 hoods up (there's a mesh one and a goretex one), I instantly loved it even more. The hooped bivi touts the benefits of getting rid of the feel of claustrophobia. Claustrophbia has not been an issue for me win the flat bivi, I find it cosy but I'm more concerned about being cold and getting a bit clammy.

With the bug net only the cold air in the room (outdoors) permeates through easily.  Although this is a loft test, it's the coldest room in the house, the heating had been off for some time and the temperature outside was -1degreeC. With the gore-tex hood up, the temperature instantly increased from breath and body heat.

There's the mandatory notice sewn into the doorway about not having fires inside tents and always keeping vents open so you don't die of CO2 / CO poisoning or setting fire to yourself. There's some weight to be saved from cutting that out. (Keeping it for 200 years and wondering what the hell it came off). 

The gore-tex hood has a small mesh panel at the top which means, effectively a mandatory vent. How much ventilation it gives if you snag the storm flap down over the top isn't clear yet. 

Showing the mesh flap that's a part of the Goretex door which allows some ventilation, even with the door fully closed.

 

What it does mean is, if you have the goretex door half open. it's the softer mesh that rests on your face, not cold shiny goretex.  Pull the goretex door zips down far enough and it's stashed out of the way in the floor pan - just hope you wake up when it starts raining to prevent moisture falling inside the bivi.  I usually find the sensation of a wet face is enough to wake me up.

On the subject of claustrophobia, some people prefer a white goretex liner to get rid of that coffin-feeling.  The interior of this bivi is dark green. Fine by me, I prefer my nights dark.

Loads of shoulder space with the saggy storm flap hanging down - should be pegged out.

With the hood up the size really does come into its own.  In the pic above, I have my A5 tablet at the head of the bivi making notes. I could fit my 20 litre rucsac here.

Clear space above my head and shoulders

When I lie on my side there's a full 4.5inch hand width between my shoulder and the "roof". I can run my arm over my hip without straining the goretex fabric or compressing the down.

I also managed to scrunch the sleeping bag to the bottom, negotiate removing and replacing a pair of leggings (OK, PJ bottoms, it's 2020 - don't judge me!) and got back into the bag with much more ease than I expected. I've got long thigh bones so that was a surprise. It allows me to add or remove (yeah right!) an extra layer at night without getting wet if it is raining. I can't guarantee I'd be able to do it without getting cramp after riding or hiking all day though!

When lying on my back, the bag is cavernous allowing full down loft around where my hands usually live - on my belly or by my sides. Even my ever-cold feet warmed up in this cold loft trial.

• • •

Other things the reviews don't say (because they're too busy going on about not suffocating). The hood zips are two-way which is great. The one way zip on the disco had me committing my back to the wind which wasn't always aligned with the slope of the land or the scenery I wanted to wake up to. Also, wind changes direction.

One person recommended getting reflective tags for the zips and different coloured ones might be an idea to differentiate the mesh zipper from the goretex zipper as I constantly got hold of the wrong one. They're quite jingly though so I'd say not too difficult to locate in the dark. 

In the hooped bivi the two way zip gives the sleeper the choice of ventilation where it 's wanted: at the top because hot air rises; or at the side away from the breeze - or into the breeze if you need to ventilate heavily.

• • •

Tarp Theory

Tarpiture with this bivi would be useful in the current climate where self-provision of brews and porridge has been more of an essential than an indulgence. I've been trying to come up with an excuse to take this out and play in the snow instead of taking the tent.  That would mean a night  in its current form - sprawled on the floor of a building somewhere, or under a cliff somewhere sheltered - un pegged but also, possibly, bloody cold. 

Speaking of which I'll disturb the cat off the four-season bag and do a proper full winter (indoor) test. 

I have been considering a tarp pitch with this bivi for that all-round tenting comfort. Anything at the head end to keep the rain off would need to be big enough to sit up in to enable access and egress through the opening of the bivi. It would detract somewhat from the ability to star-gaze and wildlife-watch.

Because the head end already has a built-in shelter, a foot-end shelter could be nice for gear storage and extra wind protection for the areas pressed closest to the goretex fabric.

Should one be feeling really soft, a tunnel bivi would give extra rain or snow protection. I'd be considering this for bad weather forecasts where I know I need to brew up too and I want to sit somewhere dry to do it.

For lightweight, stove-free, sleep-when-you-drop style travel, I considered a tarp-only, no pole, flat sheet (Ugly tarp) to peg out taught over my bike, boots, lid rucsac, coat and anything else that's so disgusting I don't want it in my bivi bag but I don't want it to get any wetter overnight either.

I have also considered a Porch tarp, using the hoop off the Bivi as a support on one edge and my tall tent pole on the other edge to give me an open view and a seamless transition from lying down to sitting up.

This isn't really a recommend­ation - more of a reminder to self to try it sometime.*

Extra Features

While I'm in the bag though, I should also say how well put together the zip space is.  So far I haven't snagged the fabric at all except for that annoying floppy fire-warning ticket that's definitely coming off.

I had it in my head that there was supposed to be a pocket in this bag but, having investigated, I think that must be the Rab eVent Ridge-raider bag - a self-confessed "almost a tent" which I discounted because I already have a tent and I like being able to look up at the sky. Weight-wise, I can't really mourn the loss of a pocket for my glasses as they usually live in my helmet. Apart from the head-space for a book (according to the hiking clan) or a Rucsac, (for those of us rehydrating from a camelbak!), there's not a LOT of extra space for kit.  The Rab Ridgeraider is 5cm longer and taller (and heavier) and one reviewer claims to have got dressed and packed away his kit inside whilst a storm raged outside.  I can't say this would happen in the Terra Nova, unless you want to do a lot of lying on cold goretex pressed against wet ground outside.

To prove how visible the world is through the mesh, the cat has obliged and moved so time for the 4 season bag test.  As its built by Terra Nova I have no concerns that this mesh will keep out midges as well as larger beasties.

A (thankfully) disinterested editor in chief

I bought this winter sleeping bag in 1997. Down was fairly new to mainstream outdoors world or maybe just new-to-me as I scrimped together the cash on the basis I was being paid £35 per right expenses for a "hotel" and was spending £10 per night for a campsite in Kircaldy in November. Ah, those were the best and worst of times. In trying to ID the sleeping bag's origins or it's temperature rating, I have noticed that the care label still has the phone number for the shop where I'm supposed to get it dry cleared in Sheffield, even though I bought the bag in the sale at an outdoor shop in Dunfermline. 

Some very specific care instructions.  I did wash this bag once, in the bath at home.  It was like trying to drown a sealion.

What I can tell you is it's the only bag that makes me grin like an idiot when I get in it and it requires an entire handlebar bag all to itself to transport it.

Since I've moved enough to fetch my 4-season bag I've realised it is lunchtime and my sandwich has given me more reason to admire and critique.

I had wondered about the guy lines as they are clearly oriented to cross right in front of the bivi entrance - one of the few negatives cited by one other reviewer.  The guy loops are simply tied but robust and fitted with linelocks for easy tensioning.

There's a toggle to sinch down the storm flap but it's only on one side which seemed a bit weird.

Whilst I appreciate this for weight saving, it only really applies the tension on that side of the storm flap. The cord runs all the way over the hood and is elasticated so for a while it just stretches instead of applying any real tension all the way along.  Some substantial messing about outside the bivi pulled some of the tension through to the other side but by then the tight side was scarily tight, the goretex started to snag in the toggle and 18 inches of floppy elastic was sticking out of the bivi.  

Rucked on the left, still saggy on the right.

If I find the storm flap tension to be an issue I'd contemplate re-working with a toggle at each end or some less stretchy cord so the tension is evenly distributed. Were I to tighten this from inside a) it would take a while b) I'd be warm by the time I'd finished c) I'd need to undo it again to get out as it really does close off the opening. If driving rain is the issue then I guess this is a good thing. 

• • •

Lunch is over, but before I get in the four season bag I have to mention the bivi's colour.

A big regret of mine with my Cuban fibre tent was not buying the brown colour. The bright silver doesn't half stand out in the open landscape of the Peak District. The target market of the bivi has always been stealth green and the technically-not-camping because it's not a tent argument. Do bear with me.  This is an internal argument that could take decades of therapy to get over so accept me for who I am. 

Not only is this bivi a wonderful dark yew tree green, it has a sheen that is the colour of Christmas. Given its arrival on 27th December, it is the messiah of bivi's.

The four season bag clearly fills more if not all of the space available

Getting into the four season Rab I am really pleased. Whether I go out for any more than one winter bivi remains to be seen but just look at the loft. 

 

The Jupiter

The Disco with the same sleeping bag inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting upright with my feet fully flexed my toes are compressing the loft into the fabric of the bag but there's still plenty of sag in the fabric so I'm only losing loft to the compressive weight of the material in the bivi bag.

Lying on my back, there's still plenty of loft above my torso and hips. If I lie on my side the shoulders of my sleeping bag just touch the roof of the bag. There's no loft around my hips which possibly says more about the baffling in my old sleeping bag than it does about the bivi bag as there's still plenty of slack fabric at my waistline.

Just enough and this sleeping bag is pretty epic.

I guess that now my review is done the last thing to talk about is the price and the nit-picking little things. I'm all up for paying for high quality gear. I'm unlikely to buy a cheaper widget if there's a better, more expensive widget out there. As such, I now have a fleet of Terra Nova kit that's rarely let me down. Even when a 10 year old tent pole failed in Canada in a harsh Quebequois storm, the fabric did not tear and the pole limped-on via duct tape splint until it could be replaced a few days later. So I have no reservations about the durability or waterproofness of this kit. 

I'm not sure you could achieve the bendiness of the aluminium pole with a carbon one but for the price, it would have been nice to see.  However, a quick research of the pole reveals it's some high tech aluminium engineering and the weight is impressively low - just by looking at it, it's hard to tell that it's metal, not fibre.  On balance I like the aluminium theory.  Having stepped on a bendy C-fibre pole and snapped it in a woodland camp, I like the idea that I could pitch this bivi in a raging storm and have it survive.  Whether I'm tough enough is another matter - but I'm certainly stupid enough and it would be nice to see my £200 bag survive - even if I don't.

The cheap, nasty aluminium pegs it came with will be added to the pile of shit we won't use until we're so old we're reverted to car camping again. From my bed I'm actually debating whether the weight of the bivi will match the weight of the Cuban tent if I leave the pegs out. My unpacking experience was one of, "crikey, these pegs are a third of the weight!".  They also look like they were sharpened by a small child using a grinding wheel.

All different shapes and sizes.

 

Finally in the robustness vs weight quality Dept, I'm not sure two chunky eyelets is necessary each side of the pole.

The other peg-out tabs have been reported to have come off by industry reviewers and with a single line of stitching holding them in, I can see why.

 Again; they're bulky and as flat loops, they don't seem shaped for pegging out. I guess if you want to leave the bivi. somewhere for the day and do something without it the peg loops will stop it taking off in a breeze. Perhaps they'll also stop the foot end from flapping onto the sleeping bag causing soggy feet - will investigate and report back.*

Oh yeah, there's the size thing though. 

Compared to Cuban which isn't a breathable membrane: smaller, in this case, is not consistent with lighter. 

The Jupiter weighs 548g with 106g of pegs!  For a hooped bivi there are only two lighter on the Ultralight website (Oudoor Research Helium (448g and no pegs) and the Lightwave Stormchaser (522g and 36g pegs)).  Take out the pesky 106g of pegs and it is the lightest.  It's almost half the weight of the Alpkit Elan hooped bivi (900g).  

While the cuban tent is 28g lighter and roomier, it is not as compact as the bivi which, when packed to something an inch or two shorter, is 2 inches smaller in diameter. 

 

It's curved pole is a little less convenient but not insurmountably so. I think the pole came with a little bag - to prevent it snagging the bivi perhaps? However, when put to use I'm starting to question whether this bag came with the Jupiter at all or is from something else I have lying around the gear room? The pole doesn't fit in it and the toggle is completely different from the one on the bivi bag and the other storage bag.

The first time I packed the Jupiter away, I packed it quite tight then it unfurled a little on the scales. I folded it into thirds which was a bit narrow and I had to wrestle it a bit to get it in the bag with the pole but it went and at least the stuff sack is long enough for the pole, even if the pole bag is not. 

I repacked it folded in half which is good because you can wrap the wet groundsheet against itself with the theoretically dry upper sandwiched inside.  We all know this theory doesn't pan out.  Wrapping a dry bag inside a wet back and putting it in a bag results in two wet bags.  Nothing will get away from that fact.

The bungee cord neck-pull on the bag can do one.  It's too heavy, too fiddly and ineffective at tightening the neck.  It's already been replaced with some dynema cord that was kicking about on the floor.  Again, the elastic just stretches until there's inches exposed when you finally get some tension.  I'm starting to get the feeling bits of this bivi bag were finished off a few weeks into lockdown when materials and parts were becoming scarce. Thery're no longer available at Terra Nova and Ultralight seem to have sold out (they're not on the website any more so I'm really glad mine finally showed up 24 days later).  

The neck closure on the Disco bivi is good old Dynema cord - though this might have more to do with Bearbones Norm than Terra Nova. 

 

So far,  I love this bivi but it's a bit annoying when a £200 plastic bag comes with a to do list:

• rework pole bag to be long enough and shave a few grams by making it skinnier.
• clips to peg up the foot end for added loft - simple and I think might work to keep my feet that little bit warmer.
• Considering replacing the storm flap toggle with something smaller, lighter and non elasticated. Bigger project when I'm committed to keeping the bag - ie. have proved its water-proofness in the real world. 
• Cut out the fire warning toggle - also a committed task
• make myself feel good about the expense and the extra 1oz of weight by testing to see if I can actually fit the bivi plus my big coat in my handlebar bag. This is bike packing Nirvana for me because I either have to wear my big coat or pack it in my rucsac.
• Test pegging out versus free-roam pitching versus a pegged pitch
  
• Test out porch tarp
  

Given that I'm quite excited about it, winter outdoor test coming soon.