Katie Oxtoby, Author at The Stray Ferret

The para athlete setting ice swimming world records and living life to the max

I meet Jonty Warneken almost 29 years to the day of his car crash. It was November 29, 1994, when he veered off a road near Ripley at 50mph, ploughed through a hedge and hit an oak tree. His injuries were so severe that his lower left leg had to be amputated.

In the years since, Jonty has taken on extreme challenges, set world records and represented Great Britain in ice swimming. So how has he done it? How does someone move on from such a traumatic incident to live such an extraordinary life?

“I do it because it’s fun, it’s amazing. I love life. I’ve always had that bit of spark in me. If something happens to you, you either let it affect you for the rest of your life, or you don’t.

“Never once do I feel sorry for myself. I’ve had my disability for so long I don’t even think about it. I wouldn’t say it’s an irrelevance; it’s just a fact of life.

“I never say ‘What if I hadn’t driven my car that way.’ That just eats your soul and serves no positive purpose. Instead, I say ‘what if’ I do this, or ‘why not’ try that. I know how fragile life is. I don’t want to go to my grave thinking what I could have done if I’d said yes a bit more.”

‘I take it this is a fatality’

Jonty was 22 years old on that day in 1994, driving home alone from a job interview in his 1963 MGB Roadster. It didn’t have seatbelts and, like many classic cars, wasn’t the safest of vehicles, even by 1990s standards. It took emergency crews an hour to cut him free. After he arrived at the hospital, a police officer who’d been at the scene of the crash entered A&E saying, ‘I take it this is a fatality.’

Jonty spent six months in hospital. As well as facial injuries which would require his nose to be rebuilt, both his legs were badly damaged. His left leg later became infected. He was given a choice: five operations over three years for a 30 per cent chance of being able to use it again, or amputation below the knee. He chose the latter.

“From a psychological point of view, it was a decision of logic, not emotion. I knew what I was doing: I’m not playing that game. I’d had an awful year – I’d left the Army and split up with my girlfriend – and I just wanted to get on with my life.”

Jonty in hospital after the car crash

He remembers sitting up in bed after the operation and looking down at the space under the duvet.

“I knew then that I had to get on. I had a responsibility to my parents and my friends. I thought, ‘Let’s crack on, I can’t sit here and feel sorry for myself.’”

First up, he wanted to do everything he could to make sure he wasn’t a burden and a worry to his family and friends. Secondly, he wanted to be out of hospital as quickly as possible – something he managed on June 5th, his mother’s 50th birthday and just two weeks after the amputation.

He set himself more goals. He wanted to be walking as best he could by the time of a friend’s wedding in July, around six weeks after the amputation. By the end of that year, he’d got a job.

A commonality of suffering

Now 51, Jonty discovered open water swimming 12 years ago, when his brother Andrew decided to give it a go and asked him along. They had grown up in Nidderdale and spent many happy times as children swimming with their friends in local rivers, but Jonty was surprised how much he enjoyed it again. It was easier on his leg than other activities, and he loved being in nature, which he describes as “the best balm for my mind and soul”. He now lives near Wetherby and promotes accessibility to the outdoors as a trustee of Open Country, a Harrogate charity that helps people with disabilities to access and enjoy the countryside.

Open water swimming led to ice swimming (swimming in water under five degrees) and the start of some extreme challenges. In 2014, Jonty became the first disabled person to complete an Ice Mile swim. In June last year, he crossed the North Channel, from Donaghadee in Northern Ireland to Portpatrick in Scotland, as part of ‘Team Bits Missing’, the only para swimming relay team ever to do so.

Team Bits Missing with Jonty, second from left

And in September this year Jonty crossed the same stretch of water again, this time on his own, in a time of 15 hours, 22 minutes and 41 seconds. With no wetsuit on, in line with official rules, he had to contend with cold water, lion’s mane jellyfish (“They really hurt “), and currents that pushed him so far off course that he ended up swimming 33-and-a-half miles instead of the 21 it should have been. He was the first amputee, and 135th swimmer overall, to complete the challenge solo.

“It’s so hard but there’s just something about getting into cold water and swimming a distance; it’s the endorphins. And the community is amazing, it’s so welcoming and friendly. Everyone is equal in ice swimming. It’s a commonality of suffering.”

Jonty at Knaresborough Lido, in a water temperature of one degree

‘We can do this as equals’

That sense of equality is really important to him. He sees one of his greatest achievements as successfully pushing for a change in the system at the International Ice Swimming Association (IISE)’s World Championships in France. It allowed a para mixed freestyle relay team, including Jonty, to compete as a country in its own right, swimming against able-bodied national teams.

“It still makes me emotional. I know how happy it made everyone on the team. Show me another sport where men and women are in one team and paras compete against able-bodied people. It’s saying we can do this and we can do this as equals.”

‘I’m playing my hand to the max’

Before ice swimming, it was skiing that replaced rugby after the crash. He had never tried it until he heard about a trial being held by the British Disabled Ski Club. Straight away, he was hooked. And, in typical style, he’s aiming to push his limits there, too. In January last year, he had to abandon plans to ski in the Montane Yukon Arctic Ultra in Canada, said to be the world’s coldest and toughest. He’d caught Covid during preparations on an Arctic survival course in Sweden.

“You get dealt a set of cards and I’m playing my hand to the max. I’ve honestly never had a moment where I’ve regretted anything. Instead of saying, ‘Why would you want to do it?’, I ask, ‘Why not?’”

It’s this ‘why not’ mentality that his beloved wife, Penny, has to keep in check. She seems to be the only reason he’s ever said no to anything.

“I have a responsibility to Penny. The challenges I do aren’t cheap and some of them come with risk, so the deal is that Penny has a say on what I do. What I’m not allowed to do is climb mountain peaks. I’m quite glad about it really, because if someone asked me I would say yes.”

But he is beginning to recognise his limitations and the strain his body is under, particularly his remaining leg which was also badly injured in the crash.

ice swimming in the North Channel

“Swimming and cross country skiing don’t hurt the ankle as much, but walking and running are getting harder. I’ve had four operations on my ankle already and I can’t have any more. I’m lucky because I live with pain so my pain threshold is pretty high. I find it fascinating how far I can go. But as you get older, your body starts giving up.”

Whether he listens to his body is a different matter, though. He’s written down some ‘rules of life’ which include: I say ‘yes’ a lot more than ‘no’ to try new things’ and ‘I accept that pain and suffering are part of what I have to go through to achieve what I want to achieve’.

So what else does he want to achieve? Still on Jonty’s bucket list is a North or South Pole skiing challenge. He’s aiming to get ‘all the big stuff’ done before he turns 65, and then he says he owes Penny the rest of his time.

I have one final question for Jonty, and it’s one he gets asked often. Given that he says his disability hasn’t held him back, and that he’s met his wife and a great community of ice swimmers and friends since his accident, would he turn back time if he could?

“I would have my leg back tomorrow because it would make my life easier. I’d still have done all the crazy stuff, I’d have maxed all my potential, and I’d have still met my wife. I just think I could have done even more – and it wouldn’t have been so tough doing it.”

Do you have an extraordinary story to tell? Get in touch with Katie at contact@thestrayferret.co.uk

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The Nidderdale mole catcher: “People can be funny about what I do”

The picture book image of the shy, simple and typically bespectacled mole provokes a certain fondness among those of us who grew up reading The Wind in the Willows.

So it came as a shock to me to learn that moles are classed as pests in the UK. Homeowners want to get rid of them because of the damage inflicted to their lawns. And for farmers, moles are a serious issue. Mole hills can damage agricultural machinery, while disturbed soil can contaminate hay used to feed livestock, potentially with fatal consequences.

Keeping moles under control is a traditional rural skill going back centuries, with mole catchers so highly valued in the 18th century that they were paid more than surgeons. But times have changed and, although mole catchers are still very much in demand today, the job and the method of doing it divide opinion.

That’s why mole catchers such as Nidderdale-based Dave the Moleman are aware of not attracting too much attention from those who might disagree with what they do.

“I’ve never had any trouble personally, but I’ve heard of other mole catchers who have had a terrible time,” says Dave, whose business has been on hold for the past 12 months while he recovers from a long illness.

“I often get asked, ‘Can you not catch the moles and let them go somewhere else?’, but to take a mole from its territory, put it in another mole’s territory and expect it to survive… it’s not going to work. It’s alright protecting things but you’ve got to have control. And if I don’t kill them, someone else will – and probably not as well as I do.”

Despite his professional moniker, away from work he’s reticent to tell people what he does for a living – and didn’t want to share his surname for this article.

“When I meet people and they ask me what I do, I say agricultural contracting.

“People can be a bit funny sometimes when they find out. They think I’ve got this kill mentality, but I haven’t. I have a lot of respect for moles. If the traps didn’t kill them outright, I wouldn’t use them. And if there was a different way of dealing with them I would happily do it.”

Dave has learnt to be more considerate of how his job might be perceived, particularly by his domestic customers and members of the public. At one time, he was more open about what he did, even posting pictures on Facebook of the moles he caught, but now finds it distasteful.

“It was my way of showing that I was doing my job well. Gamekeepers used to do it – it was known as the ‘gamekeeper’s gibbet’ – to demonstrate to the landowners that they were doing a good job.

I don’t think there’s any need for it now.”

Mole facts

The common or European mole is native to mainland Britain
There are estimated to be around 35-40 million of them in this country
They live on average for about three years
Mole tunnels are basically giant traps to catch the earthworms, grubs and larvae they feed on, needing to consume half their body weight every day
Moles live a solitary existence and are territorial, only coming together to mate between March and May
A female usually has about three or four pups during the summer, which are sent off to find their own way at about a month old
Moles can paralyse earthworms with their saliva and store them to eat later
A mole was responsible for the death of King William III in 1702, when his horse tripped on a mole hill and threw him to the ground. The king broke his collarbone, developed pneumonia and died two weeks later
Garments made from mole fur became fashionable in the early 20th century after Edward VII’s wife, Queen Alexandra, began the trend. At one point, more than 1 million skins were sold each year in London

There’s a definite art to mole catching. In fact, it was 15 years before Dave was satisfied his mole trapping skills were worth charging people for. He’d been practising now and again for local farmers, experimenting with different traps and ways of setting them, but just couldn’t quite get it right.

“I missed more than I caught. The first time I tried, I set about 15 traps and didn’t catch one mole,” he says.

In the end, the answer to mastering this traditional rural skill was remarkably modern: a tutorial on YouTube, recommended to him by a mole catcher from Doncaster.

“As soon as I saw that video, it just clicked. I set 15 traps and caught 10 moles. That was the beginning.”

So why had he stuck at something so unpromising for such a long time?

“My friend’s dad was a farmer and he once said to me, ‘If you learn to catch moles, you’ll always have a quid in your pocket.’”

It’s a skill, he says, but it’s not particularly difficult – once you know what you’re doing and you’ve got the right equipment. And experience counts for a lot, too.

“I can now go along to a garden, look at the position of the mole hills and get a good idea of where the tunnel will be. I prod the ground to find the run and then work out which direction it goes in. I usually hit the tunnel on the first prod.

“I then have to decide where to put the traps. You have to be quite precise about that. You also have to set them correctly to be successful but also to make sure the mole is killed instantly.”

Dave has seen demand for mole-catching pretty evenly split between domestic and agricultural jobs, with domestic work on the increase – for a surprising reason.

“It’s a lot to do with where houses are being built. I’ve seen demand rise as they’re building more houses on or next to agricultural land with mole tunnels that have been there possibly for hundreds of years.

“Moles can make a heck of a mess in a small space of time. Ten mole hills can be made in one night by one mole. When one of the new estates in Harrogate went up a few years ago, every time the phone rang it was someone who had moved in there.”

Agricultural jobs often come in the spring to ensure the land is mole-free long before the ploughing season begins. Autumn and winter can affect the amount of work, too. Mole tunnels are usually two to six inches below the ground. But when the weather turns wetter, moles tend to follow the worms and grubs they feed on further below ground, making tunnels harder to find and mole hills less visible. And if the ground is too hard during a cold snap, it’s difficult to dig into.

Dry weather can also drive worms and moles further below ground, so summer can see demand for mole-catching trail off, although anyone using a sprinkler for their lawn will keep the worms – and therefore the moles – active.

The next generation

Last year Dave was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and has had to pause his business and pass on work to another mole catcher to keep his clients happy. He now has the all-clear and is hoping to return to work in the spring, but it has made him realise he may not be able to work as a mole catcher forever.

“The thing that’s shocked me the most is how long it’s taken me to recover. Even when I get back to it, I’ll have to start with domestic jobs before I’m fit enough to do agricultural work. There can be 50 to 60 moles on one farm and a wide area to cover, so it can be quite physically tiring.

“I’m 61 now and it would be nice to pass on my knowledge. There’s a skill to pass on and a knack to setting the traps properly. And it’s a great job – you’re out in the fresh air, in the countryside, and you can earn a decent wage.”

Bid to create new ponds in Nidderdale for Britain’s biggest amphibian

Killinghall residents worried about ‘dangerous’ mole traps

Have we seen the last of nightclubs in Harrogate?

It’s the Christmas party season, and many of us will remember when a festive do in Harrogate ended, often rather messily, in one of Harrogate’s nightclubs.

The town’s club scene was once so good that names such as Carringtons, Jimmys and Josephine’s live on in fond memories of sticky dancefloors, cheap drinks and great music.

Recollections may be hazy but the love remains for the likes of Legends, Flares, Ministry of Sound, Rehab, The Old Bourbon and the many other nightclubs that have come and gone in Harrogate over the years.

But no more. Next weekend will mark a year since the last club standing, The Viper Rooms, closed its doors. So is this the end of the nightclub in Harrogate and, with it, the end of a guaranteed great night out in the town?

The death of the nightclub

Harrogate is not alone in its declining nightclub scene. Data from the Night Time Industries Association (NTIA) shows 31 per cent of the UK’s nightclubs closed between June 2020 and June 2023. The report blamed an increase in operational costs, rents, utilities and maintenance, and called for initiatives to help nightclub owners finance their venues.

But even before a pandemic and a cost of living crisis, NTIA research shows that nightclubs were already in decline. Between 2014 and 2019 the number of clubs across the UK fell from 1,924 to 1,446, with Yorkshire seeing a 37 per cent loss.

Jay Smith, the owner of Montey’s bar, says this corresponds to an increase in later bar licences:

“In the halcyon days of nightclubs, bars were open until 11 and then the clubs took over. But as licensing reforms started to take hold and then customer demand followed, we ended up opening later. Now Montey’s is open until 4am on a weekend and we’re not alone. It’s being driven by the consumer and that’s all you can react to.”

Montey’s has just marked its 27th year in Harrogate and Mr Smith says drinking habits have changed during that time.

“People aren’t going out as much as they used to. There’s a whole generation of kids who turned 18 during the pandemic and have never been clubbing. And a large number of our customers don’t drink alcohol. When Montey’s started we had one alcohol-free beer and now we have a whole section on the menu. It’s not a money saving exercise for people either; they are just more health conscious.”

(L) The serviced apartments on the Kings Road site that was previously the original King’s Club, then the Old Bourbon. (R) Best Bar on Parliament Street

Has demand gone?

With opportunities for clubbing in Leeds and York and the ease and affordability of sharing an Uber back to Harrogate, is there even any demand for a nightclub in Harrogate?

Jay Smith says:

“To be honest, a town the size of Harrogate probably had a disproportionate number of nightclubs a decade or two ago. If we do get another one I suspect it will be a lot smaller. Nightclubs are really expensive businesses to operate.”

So is Harrogate still a great night out?

You’d think not, judging by the negative response on The Stray Ferret’s Facebook page to a story last week about Harrogate’s best venues. “Go to Leeds or York” was the general response to an appeal from a Bath-based events company for someone ‘with a love of partying’ to report on the town’s bars and clubs for a ‘full night out experience’. “Nightlife is dead in Harrogate” was a common refrain.

But Yannis Dervishi, owner of Best Bar on Parliament Street, doesn’t agree. He thinks perceptions changed when The Viper Rooms closed, and that people who think the closure left Harrogate devoid of nightlife, need to get back out on the town and see what’s on offer.

“Viper Rooms closing down took away decades and decades of that location’s history, which promoted the perception that nightlife in Harrogate is lacking, he says.

“However, this is just perception over perspective. Harrogate contains a variety of bars scattered through the town centre and each one is different and unique in their own way. The face of the town’s night-time scene may have changed but it’s not like there’s no music and no dancefloors.”

The rise of the all night bar

The success of bars in the face of nightclubs’ decline was underlined this week when the UK’s biggest nightclub operator, Rekom, announced it’s going to start focusing more on its bars. And last week The Viper Rooms owner Paul Kinsey’s Harewood Group said it had taken over the Pitcher and Piano bar in Harrogate and is aiming to create a ‘great night out’, introducing live music and DJ Christmas party nights.

Mr Dervishi, who has been in the industry for over 20 years and also runs Mykonos and Santorini restaurants, says the demographic has widened at Best Bar since The Viper Rooms closed. The bar, which is open until 6am at weekends and includes a ‘nightclub’ style room with a dancefloor and DJs, attracts between 300 and 500 people on Fridays and 450 to 750 on Saturday.

“We’ve got customers of all ages, from 20 year olds to the over 70s. We didn’t plan for that kind of mix when we first launched, but when Viper Rooms closed we adapted our offering and it just fell into place.”

Mr Smith also thinks it’s unfair to say the town has no nightlife: “We’ve got some really great places to go on a night. Independent bars are on the rise nationally, and in Harrogate we’ve got some really great players.”

He says the loss of nightclubs is a shame, but times have changed:

“My first job in hospitality was as a DJ at Night Out in Knaresborough. It was amazing. I would get there at 10.30pm and by 11 the place would fill up. For those of us who lived through that generation, you’d finish your night in a club. But what nightclubs have become in the last decade is very different to what they were when I was younger.”

Although he thinks the general trend in the decline of nightclubs will continue, Mr Smith is not sure we’ve seen the last of them in Harrogate.

“I still think there is a demand for a nightclub,” he adds.

Do you think Harrogate should have a nightclub? Do you have fond memories or pictures of nights out in a Harrogate nightclub?
We’d love you to share them with us. Get in touch and send us your thoughts at contact@thestrayferret.co.uk