Words by Eric
Crew; Butty, Mr I, Slim, Dr S, Stunt, 3 Sheds, Kersh, El Pres, Coley, Eric
In the pub; Dunc, PTD
Lame excuses; 3 Sheds, – not back in time
Route; New Buxton Road, Charity, N/S descent, Lower LHS, climb towards Greenbarn, Hardings, Hanging Gate, Fourways, Croker Hill, Gritstone trail ,Ryles Arms
Conditions; Warmest ever stop atop Croker Hill, muddiest descent!
Stats; Butty, puncture; Kersh, seized rear brake
Offs; No admissions.
The evening’s route objective of Croker Hill and the distribution of liquid weight at the start gave some clue as to the libations planned for later; but a new record start time of 19 o’clock hundred hours left us with a mountain to climb to get round and get to the Ryles in time for tea.
The climb up to the bottom of Charity seemed rather longer than usual but the descent was surprisingly dry and lots of fun. It felt strange turning right at the bottom rather than left for a visit to the NS descent seen of many notable dismounts in the past. The notorious water bars, slipperier than polished ice, didn’t claim any victims this time round with the tracks oddly and remarkably dry.
Normally the LHS descent is the last leg to the pub but tonight it was the precursor to the long road bash past then end of the White Rabbit descent, over the Hanging Gate, Fourways and up to Croker. It was heavy going for most but extra heavy for Kersh who was dragging a seized rear caliper. Subtle adjustment by bashing his 29er on the road in the style of Basil Fawlty gave some relief.
Stealth mode engaged for the climb past the summit farm, only heavy breathing allowed until we reached the Gin and Tonic spot. For the first time ever it wasn’t blowing a howling gale up there, in fact it was positively tropical as very firm gins were produced. Many thanks to the logistics wizards who produced gin, iced lemons, ice, and chilled tonic all served in appropriately sized pint glasses. Then meat based provender and English Mustard was magic’d from nowhere – Marvellous.
Glasses were raised to Dan.
On the other side of the gin gate a new danger awaited, as Coley described them – cow piss puddles; no more description required. Through the CPP’s and onto the whoopin’ and a hollerin’ descent. All except Butty who punctured one of his tubeless tyres and then found that his lucky spare tube wasn’t that lucky.
The advanced party arrived at the Ryles at 9.04 to cries of “yer dinners on the table” – woe betide the latecomers. Black Sheep and giant portions of food were the order of the day. Mr I and El Pres were beaten by the cod – but Stunt was a bit more canny and kept his arm pads on allowing him to be the only person claiming a finish at the table. I can’t believe that TNR were reduced to accepting the offer of doggie bags.
Long drag home but worth it.