A two hour forty minute epic, rumour has it, from the Sportsman to the traditional subterranean traverse of Hathersage. No idea who was there, since I’d been diverted at the last minute to attend my fair daughter’s A level choices evening. All being well therefore, a fuller account, and perhaps even a track, might follow in due course.
Meanwhile, ten Guerrillas were playing about on Bleaklow, visiting a pond and the odd wreck in the vicinity of James’s Thorn. A good time had by all, it is alleged.