After being talked out of going to find the plastic rock by Gardom's Edge, on the grounds it would be too far, young Rob took us on a trek across the worst terrain Big Moor has to offer. And it is bad, well up to Cap'n Harmer's standard. At the whisky stop, when another plod via some spot height or other to the White Edge trig was offered, a breakaway formed, and the four free bus pass holders set off around the corner instead to pick up more track running. This was so successful they arrived back at the pub 15 mins later than the direct route group. Hey-ho.