What Can I Say?

Thank you to to the whole squad. Whether you were at the sharp end, or organising the logistics, or just being there, it couldn't have happened without you.

As we know, the weather could have been better ~ main purpose of the outing was to top up the tan ~ but we got there.

When I sat in the lounge of April Cottage on Friday evening, having been asked to explain what I was up to, it was clear that Britain isn't one one nation, there's us, and there's the folk that don't run the fells.

Leg 1 was good, and we arrived at TF's brew station well inside the schedule, with Brother John trailing slightly but in there to the finish. Good luck on your BG Karl, the way you were going, it shouldn't be a problem.

Lost some time over to Dunmail, as expected, but still close to the schedule. Steve K replaced John at this point and was just there, feeding, chatting and moving us along. Felt strong up Steel Fell, then the long trail to High Raise, Rosset Pike, Bowfell, Esk Pike and Great End. Met Joss, Brother John and the ever sartorially elegant TF on the descent, to meet lots of folk at Styhead.

Then the pain began. Peter Ferris (God bless his little cotton socks) was lead torturer, and he applied the pressure, following the little known Wasdale Mafia routes to make up for my lack of ability, by picking the way round the stuff that we southerners can't cope with.

Very brief chat with John the Elder at Black Sail, then more pain through to the finish, with only 7 minutes to spare.

Then goodbyes and farewells and the Charters's and Yours Truly dallied a while in the Bridge at Santon before supper and a well earned sleep.

Sunday evening saw a small family gathering in the garden of the TaT where grandson Alfie asked why, if I had three black toenails on my left foot, I couldn't kick the ball with my other foot.

Special mention to Ian, 2 JNs in 5 weeks, is this a record?

Once again, a very sincere thank you to everyone.

EtU.