A fair turnout for one of our prime venues. The pre-run arguments between Messrs Holmes and Harmer were confined to the car with only me to witness, so all was seemingly well as the route had been discussed at length and the fact that this was THE warts run was commented on and dismissed by Capt H. with a vitriolic but poignant "fuck off, Dave!" Nuff said. Anyway, the run..... up the now denuded forest to the top gate and then to New Cross (remains of!) which was found amazingly easily and the first show of unity ensued with all bar the VERY slow contingent, arriving together. Naturally enough, confusion ensued with the next leg of the run: some heard that the waterfall was the next checkpoint and some Berrister's Tor - a split ensued with the Safety Officer (amongst others) taking an easy route. leaving the rest of us without safety cover in the likely event of a disaster.Tut tut, that stripe, Lance Cpl Harvey may yet be in jeopardy! Anyway, nobody died, as far as we knew and whisky was taken in the wind and rain like real warts do. Low Tor and the concrete cabin and thence to the pub. A standard, if slightly short, warts run but given the rain and the lure of the fire in the pub, there were no dissenters.
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