There must have been too many distractions. Chris was in Portugal, Roger was running on the beaches of Jersey, Simon and Pete were on birthday celebrations, Tom was, perhaps, with the faster Willy Warts, and others with excuses or reasons for absence, so that only four loyal, athletic Slow Warts turned up at the Hagg Farm layby.
Our brutal climb from Haggwater Bridge through the wood did wake us from our afternoon somnambulism and, to show off our athleticism, we even broke into a run though only for a short time. Andy had promised a bracken-free outing and so far, he had succeeded, with only heather being any sort of hindrance (apart from the hill) up the final slope of Crookstone Knoll, where of course we rested.
It is rare we see any other wanderers on our wanderings but near Coffin Rock on the level and sandy beach-like path, we met a cyclist wearing flip flops. Whilst that was shocking to the cyclists in our group, the absence of a helmet was even more disturbing to them. The chuntering continued as we searched for and failed to find the Westgate short cut to take us to the mown patch of heather, now growing significantly. This was a precursor for our dive into some mild bracken before our traverse of the heathery and tussocky crossing to the spot height of 444m where we rested,…….again.
Despite Andy’s efforts we were now approaching bracken-land for our descent to the quarry, and, there, for the massed choir of the Slow Warts, to render Happy Birthday for our absent Pete and Simon.
More head-high bracken was avoided in reaching the hard-on-the-feet track into Jagger’s Clough. To maintain my reputation for running up the track, I did try, but capitulated into walking when running was slower than Tim’s walking pace. It was noticed by John and Andy, so, sadly, there goes my reputation!
At Hope Cross, there were stories about, not only the turning of its top direction block thereby potentially misdirecting walkers through 90, 180 and 270 deg., but also the complete removal and later return, of the top block itself, which takes some ingenuity. Here was the start of our return to the bridge avoiding the rocky track by going through the wood on an initially pleasant track only to find ourselves in a mud bath at the valley bottom track.
We retreated to the YBI where our small foursome easily found an accommodating table for yet another widely ranging and easily forgotten discussion about everything, or nothing. We did agree though that we’d enjoyed the run and arranged, despite any concerns we may have had, to do it all over again next Wednesday from Strines. Thanks to all.
Graham
