An Unhappy Cobdenite? Read about our last Victory (in 2003) HERE! |
WRITE YOUR OWN REPORT AND SEE IT HERE! Think you can do a better or fairer match report? Email us your version of events, and we'll publish it in its entirety (Except seriously offensive comments). |
WRITE YOUR OWN REPORT AND SEE IT HERE! Think you can do a better or fairer match report? Email us your version of events, and we'll publish it in its entirety (Except seriously offensive comments). |
An Unhappy Cobdenite? Read about our last Victory (in 2003) HERE! |
.Explorers Well Done. It is written in the Explorer bible, under the chapter "Civilisation and how to leave it" that one the most difficult things to do in scouting is actively go out into the cold and wet knowing full well you could stay in the warm and dry, and then get cold and wet completely regretting your decision to go outside and just wishing it would all end. What seemed like a good idea at the time inevitably turns sour. Welcome to another of those tales. It was Friday night, October, and 4 Explorers had bothered to turn up for a night hike from an undisclosed location back to the scout hut with full fry up in the morning. Blindfolded and strapped into two cars, I had planned a bleak spot for the drop off. Half an hours drive and we were just outside buxton on a minor road covered in mist with no landmarks for a mile in any direction. Perfect, Well done me. We all stepped into the dark cold freezing mist and the cars departed 9pm. Home explorers and don't spare the horses. They guessed which way to walk down the road, south. I told them they were wrong for a moment of weakness I tried to tell them to go back, but stubbornly we walked away from home for half an hour. Upon hitting the junction at the end, the group located themselves and set a course for home walking on main roads and twice as long as the cross country route. I overruled and we would walk back over hill and dale. More minor roads and we made it to the Cat and Fiddle Pub for half ten. We had decided earlier to make for the summit of Shining Tor, but anticipating this could all go on too long I did question the route. But to the summit we did go. Bog jumping on the peat and mud, in the dark and trying not to get wet boots. About now in the miserable drizzle I called for my sleeping bag. It was nowhere near. To be honest everybody would probably have quit here. We should have called siglos mam and swallowed our pride. Gradually we inched our way closer to home, step by step and little by little. The end of the boggy ridge path approached and we were back on tarmac to go past Windgather rocks. The road was surprising, with more cars than anticipated on a small windy lane in the country sidelate at night. Paranoia kicked in as some scallies shouted something back to us from their vehicle then stopped and reversed. I was first to the fence. Yes like a big girls blouse. They reversed into a passing place to let another car by then drove off. I was on edge and ridiculed. On until the next junction, the mist rescinded as we went lower and we had our first proper break. It was past midnight and we were still in Kettleshulme, Two thirds home. The group was bearing up well and still in good spirits which is always necessary. Already it was too long and I dreamed of reaching Lyme park and calling that practically home. A massive navigational Faux pas as we took the wrong road to kettleshulme and walked two sides of the triangle instead. Doh!. We also threw in a messing about period trying to find a path in the dark. This didn't exactly boost spirits but surprisingly no one complained. Through the village and out the other side went well as we located our path easily and walked down to the river. Sigley located the bridge after some searching and we would soon be at Lyme park. Soon. Climbing out of the valley we screwed up completely, lost the path and were officially lost after climbing several fences. As I tried to piece together what had gone wrong, I don't think anyone had the energy to moan on. The compass suddenly dawned on me and we walked back to the road we were aiming for. Feet were hurting as we had the final climb of the day up to Bowstones at Lyme park. Time drifted as we were stretched out on the footpath one by one. Alone in thought? Too tired to talk? We found the stiles and a mysterious car with lights on at 2am ish. Having climbed the wall we relied on the King of lyme park to guide us home. Hibbsy should know it like the back of his hand. A rest and look down on the world and we set off for the main gates, trying to avoid the night wardens. Deers moaned quite scarily, they owned the park now. Main gates were closed and our weary legs were forced to heave us out of the situation. No more paths now. At what other time can you lie down in the middle of the A6. The last climb to the ridge road went on. We stopped again, feet knackered, legs boshed. So close though. We couldn't stop now. Onward, onward, onward, I talked gibberish trying to pass away the roads boredom. At the romper we considered walking down the canal, the weariest decided he would like his moment of glory stomping down church lane and so it was. The finish line at last. A lie down on stockport road before a sprint finish to the hut Did Williams or Hibbs win? Will we ever know. The keys fitted and we were in. 3am. I would have been happy returning 1 ish, but 3 was late, even for me. Sleep was no problem. And up at 9 for breakfast was obeyed. We left a well done hobbling crew of crooked lads. Feet were bruised but we had made it, and in good spirits. Gluttons for punishment attended the Cobden scout night hike the next night. Anyway, well done mighty explorers you have served Marshall well. Until we meet again. Cast all awesome: Andy "just one more step' siglo Oliver Oliver "Lyme King" hibbsy Daniel "too easy" Williams Ricky "done that" ellis Andy "fool and wimp" togs Many thanks Marshall and Mrs T for the lifts. Respect due. |