It was holiday time and Slow Warts were taking a rest from the Wednesday rigorous training regime. This, and the annual moorland restrictions for grouse shooting reduced our choice of venue and, possibly, our numbers to just four. A notable absentee was our leader who was busy singing in Unthank.
To add to the atmosphere of only four athletes, the weather was also playing its part with a dark cloud hanging over and then thunder and lightning followed by a heavy shower. Amazingly it stopped and the sunshine returned as we set off on unfamiliar terrain, a disused cinder rail track relieved then by a jaunt across some gentle pastures. This idyll was only spoilt by a swarm of flies turning their attention from a herd of cattle to ourselves, juicier meat perhaps? Nevertheless, we persevered and continued over a questionably rickety bridge and some stepping stones to an old mill. There were no villagers out to see we magnificent four striding up the high street, it was their loss.
This civilised theme continued with some road running, yes, we wild and Slow Warts had strayed on to tarmac. But, what tarmac! It had been newly laid and but was left unused so was in good condition and overgrown with brambles. It was very, very steep and closed to road traffic, cyclists and horse riders were requested to dismount. In the search for steep roads how does this compare with the steepest road in Sheffield (Blake Street)? In the interests of human performance, or not, I decided to run the full length and height of it. Just to bring some realism to this epic challenge, Tim and Tom walked it much more quickly than I did, running it. Moz checked that I actually did run it. However, to mitigate the steepness, a zig-zag way was taken so I did go further than they did, but they weren’t impressed, and, of course, they did get to the top first!
The climbing continued now up new terrain, a rocky path, to the edge where decisions had to be made, again. Because we had time, we agreed to go to the stone circle. With only four people, we were able to split into four separate ways from the quarry, triumphally arriving just about together. Note that once the bog has been crossed to the slight rise, there is a path including a stone pillar “marker”, all the way to the circle.
Again, discussions and decisions were needed for our next point of interest, marked on the map as ….. Stones. With all of us being unsure where exactly they were, we resorted to the left and right navigation method, so two of us went rightish and two of us leftish. It was a long crossing of the moor so we were able to enjoy the heather, bracken, bilberry and rushes before getting to the …..Stones. I think it’s fair to say that these Stones do not live up to their name, unless, of course we’ve missed any of their glorious history, perhaps a former quarry?
We escaped the vegetation and joined the edge path for a fast (ish) descent down the rocky path in the woods to the dam wall where we were greeted by an upset cyclist who’d experienced some intimidating fast driving on the nearby roads. Poor chap, he’d resorted to using the pavement.
We had an obvious choice for the pub where, despite concerns about contravening some of the guidelines for Slow Warting, e.g. we had some spells of fast running, there was a sense of achievement and satisfaction at completing a two-hour (almost) run on some alien ground. (An easy question, where did we go?), Our pub discussions tend to be wide and random including suitable pub clothing, which we didn’t have (tweeds, flat cap, plus fours) and the mixed weather encouraged talk of Buffalo gear, its advantages and the company’s new owner (Ben Fogle). Just to emphasise the ominous nature of our less than stringent outing, the thunder, lightning and rain returned, just as we left.
The gods were clearly angry.
Graham