Gone are the days when we used to lament the fact that only a hard core half a dozen or so came warting - now we manage to attract 34 highly tuned athletes including the remainder of the old hard core, now sadly well knackered!
However... we set off in a determined manner up to Seal Stones and then towards Hartshorn, still visible in the gathering gloom. From here we dropped down into a black abyss and then amazingly enough, went straight back up, to Grindslow Knoll, to consume the assorted alcoholic beverages on offer. There was a notable degree of straying from the party line, not least by Lance-Corporal Harvey, the self-appointed safety officer who never seems to be there when help is needed! Following this, the usual splitting of the multitude occurred. I was following my dog Tess, before I realised that I was leading a group into the blackness, fortunately in roughly the right direction (amazing instinct these dogs) up Grindsbrook and thence to the northern edge. From here it was a gradual, very wet descent to the pub. A generally good night, we wait to see what happens to the numbers when the weather gets worse!!
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