The one with the second Grouse Butt
Water, water everywhere but…well no buts, except grouse butts but that’s for later. You could say it was a wet evening that greeted us at Lady Bower Inn. A fair smattering of runners made the effort, there was of course no head count as it’s difficult to count heads in wet weather.
Yours truly had an early recce and found the first check, however due to my reputation still being in tatters from incident at the The Crispin everyone went the other way, I left them to it and waited at the bottom of the rocky trail. When the headtorches turned back, me and a couple of the faithful set off with a bit of a head start. My smugness disappeared as I found out the trail did not head towards Bamford but towards Ashopton and I retook my rightful position at the back.
The trail appeared predictable, but our dear Swift Edward had found a lesser walked trail with which to ascend towards the edge. Monty’s Batman thought he had found an even lesser trodden trail and could be seen with his four legged companion skirting the woods, either that or he had found a discrete place for a comfort break.
On on and up up we went, with the wind picking up. We eventually came to a familiar trail and had a regroup crouched behind a wall, it was strangely comfortable sat in the wet grass and few were willing to face the inevitable and to head up to the summit. Eventually we peeled ourselves from the wall and began face destiny. A rather sprightly Uglyman seemed to enjoy the ascent tremendously and included a bit of heather bashing in what proved to be wise short cut, all the while the wind grew stronger and stronger.
Atop the summit was MBM and canine companion sheltering in the flooded Grouse butt nr 1, Fishbait checking left and Soggy Bottom + Apprentice heading on home to the right. Such was the wind it might be worth checking if Soggy and Son did make it back down. With wind chill at a maximum we decided it was straight on down the hill. The descent provided more and more shelter from the wind. A few hashers had congregated in what was later discovered to be grouse butt nr 3, all very cozy but where were the treats? ‘He’s not left any’ it was concluded, ‘the mean so and so’ said the looks on everyone’s faces.
And so we continued, up to our knees in bog, hungry, cold but with at least some respite from the wind, thanks to the Derwent edge. Unfortunately, the edge did not provide total cover and the sleet soon enthusiastically took the place of the wind as chief tormentor. In treacherous conditions like this you need a good guide with local knowledge, unfortunately we only had Monty’s Batman and he led us over small fence to short cut the route. The opposite fence proved not so short and was topped with barb wire, MBM soon leapt it and disappeared out of sight, leaving the rest of us to help each other over. It was back to the rocky trail for the remainder of the route, parts of it were flooded and a gentlemanly Fishbait waited for his Pingu who was last seen trapped on the barb wire fence.
Back at the watering hole the staff eagerly informed that no drinks were available so we decamped to the Yorkshire Bridge, who were only too happy to receive us and a Soggy Monty. One by one hashers turned up congratulating Fast Eddie on a run well set but carefully avoiding the elephant in the room. Drinks in hand and joviality restored, someone took the plunge, ‘Thought you would have made us some of that lovely flapjack eh Eddie’ (I think this was asked in either a Northern Irish or Geordie accent but wouldn’t swear to it).
Eddie greeted the question with first a smile and then a realisation that he would have to go and retrieve said snacks….
‘How could you miss them? They were in the second Grouse Butt!’ retorted Hasty Edward
Epilogue
The diary was passed around, the subject of F-Eddie’s reimbursement for £1.57 in diary expenses was discussed but not resolved, an EGM was suggested.
The diary is now full until June, but no takers as of yet for the 1200thrun, a return to White Edge moor perhaps? BBQ in a carpark? it did bring out the masses.
The following day FE staged a retrieval run to keep up the pretence of having provided snacks.
On on,
Sticky Shaft
On on,
Sticky Shaft
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