We can’t help but talk about shoes, and it was so at Strines Inn for we nine (including racing returnees Anna and Tom), both before and after the run. We Slow Warts think it is a healthy obsession but any outsider would probably consider it to be verging on mental instability. Mind you, what we were about to do might also be considered somewhat both mentally and physically questionable.
Nevertheless, we set off at our usual sparkling pace, walking, up Strines Edge and near Running Moss which, together with the reducing slope, encouraged us to run. Andy’s plan was to follow the boundary stones which we probably did though we only saw one, the others hidden in the reeds in the bogs of the col between the Derwent and Strines edges. It was almost as rare as the hare we saw in the same area, both of which created a degree of excitement, thereby confirming our questionable mental state.
Physically though, we did struggle when we left the soft pleasant boggy track for a direct (shorter but not quicker) line to Cakes of Bread. I had planned my wardrobe for the outing assuming there would not be too much scratchy, (skin ripping) vegetation. Never assume anything! There was plenty, and deep too, so my plan was scuppered, the abrasion had started.
There was some relief when we finally arrived at the Cakes but it continued when we left the paving stones of the path towards Back Tor. As we dispersed directly towards Howshaw Tor, some of us continued on the paving, some descended the hillside and Andy and I took a direct (!) line to the col between Lost Lad and Back Tor in the hope of finding what used to be (probably decades ago) a fast quad track. Sadly, it was now overgrown so more blood was spilt from my legs.
Which way from Howshaw to the block house, grotto, second world war decoy site, gamekeepers’ shelter…….? Again, we dispersed, left, right and centre, dodging the grown
heather to concentrate on finding the several patches of mown heather for us to speed (?) unhindered to the spring-cum-bog surrounding the block house. It was still there, although some of the breeze blocks had been eroded through by wind and rain (?) leaving a bit of a crumbling mess. Here, John rejoined us having opted for the paving stones and the Foulstone track. Having seen the building (?), he couldn’t resist a trip to admire it.
The final leg back to the pub was, of course, straight forward and I think we enjoyed our mainly free running to just before Strines Dike. The risk of running through vegetation is the loosening of laces as Pete and I found. He tied his and dashed off into the ever-deepening bracken which hid his great height from sight. My second lace was then undone by the grasping bracken so, another delay was needed, then Andy dashed by. The path was there but the unseen edges had a tendency to propel us down the slope into yet more deep bracken. Should we may never have been found let alone rescued, there is a case for us always to carry avalanche radio transponders in our safety equipment? By the way or on the path, another metal post was found for us to trip over, so be warned!
In the pub, we were honoured to sit with some of the combined night swimmers and runners who could quite comfortably fit into our questionable mental state. Our discussions in the pub, like our running. tended to be widespread, forgettable (apart from shoes) and non-conclusive, so very much as normal. We did remember, however, that we’d had a very good time. Thanks to all.
Graham
