After last week’s excursion to near Odin’s mine, Andy promised no big hills and fewer stiles. There was only one stile which was used at the start and finish of our outing to the Hunter wreck. It had the not unpleasant odour of freshly painted creosote, remember it’s not long to the 12th of August. This stirred a discussion on legal performance enhancing substances particularly the current fashion in the Tour de France for the use of carbon monoxide, yes, it is poisonous! It is used under strict medical supervision (you bet!). John who had been researching the detail, reported that it apparently, increases the haemoglobin levels in the blood,
Having established that we were not going to suck the car’s exhaust pipe, eight of us set off in the blazing sunshine up the gradual climb to the shooting cabins where we split into four groups, to attempt to establish the quickest way to New Cross from there. One group, Andy and co., took the direct line, John and Graham, the track and Tom also, who used the ridge for a final flourish. Jim made his own way but avoided New Cross altogether. In the end, Tom, one of our elite Slow Warts, arrived there first but he probably would had done which ever way he went. Jim had worked on the principle that if he could see the check point and wave at it, then he’d been there, a fine idea. Jim had also been advising on a suitable (?) wardrobe for the conditions, including black leggings to prevent ticks and too much heather scrubbing, i.e. exfoliation and blood inducing scratching. His other personal favourite was the use of three socks on one foot and two on the other. I wrongly jumped to the conclusion that this was useful for contouring around hillsides. I think it was to do with feet and shoe sizes.
Having arrived at New Cross (remains of) there was a discussion on the validity or invalidity of the brackets/parentheses. Whether such a discussion is normal on the north eastern moors, we concluded thankfully that it was not normal but we aren’t either, so sanity of sorts reigned. Again, there was a split, Andy and co took the traditional route around the heads of the streams to Dukes Road and Tom took a direct line to the fence corner and a compass bearing to the wreck which seemed to be quicker.
John and I split from the others at Dukes Road and made our way back to the cars via the grough “staircase”. The remains of the group reached the wreck, the ruined building and the Rocking Stone, now of course without its rowan tree which was sadly cut down earlier this year.
Then they moved on to Emlin for a triumphant return to the car, meanwhile John and I discussed the difficulties of removing heather bits from socks as we carefully removed them, such is fell running life; which can also be dominated by “countyist” remarks about our counties of origin. Of those remaining in the Strines Inn, two of us were from Yorkshire and the rest were from an adjacent county to the west whose name is not to be mentioned by this blogger.
Having spent some time deciding on next Wednesday’s venue, we managed to agonisingly decide on coming back to where we were at the Strine Inn. And, yes, it was a good outing. Thanks to all.
Graham
