After a photo in front of the Methodist chapel we set off around 8.35. It wasn't raining at this point but we did unusually endure a few spits and spots later in the day.

Chrome Hill after a few miles became our second challenge of the day. Getting up earlier than normal had been the first. Hanging on by our finger tips (not really) we crept along a narrow track which meandered along its side battered at around 45 deg. Pedro gulped several times but kept his nerve. Well done Ped. It would have been much easier for him had he bought a pair of walking sticks from Mothercare similar to those that Keithee was sporting. Fraser, son of Mick Houson, took it in his stride. At the end of Chrome Hill we met up with the brave ones who'd ventured over the top, and together dropped down to the road, short of the next clamber up Parkhouse Hill (Dragons back).

Looking back we could see Mick in his fluorescent yellow waterproof trousers sliding down the escarpment on his back, after spraining his ankle, assisted by none other than Nige (noel); his best mate Sparklet having abandoned him. As we waited a white van was flagged down and a lift was gratefully received. Shame we couldn't all fit in.

The group split as several ventured up the dragons back, the third challenge, and the rest continued around, eager to see how Mick was faring at the Quiet Woman. Mothy had been drooling for weeks in anticipation of the Quiet Woman's pork pies and he was not going to be disappointed. The only dilemma was how many to order! The miserable quiet landlady suggested we slice the pies up ourselves but luckily the grubby hands of the landlord were available to do the honours.

Brains's ‘bread of heaven' ale soon ran out, having been supped on arrival by the most eager at the bar. Marstons bitter and pedigree were the only survivors. ‘Only those who made it over the peaks can have a pint', said Hecky Thump. Yeh right !! Fraser ignored him and ordered another coke.

We headed off, passing a group of waddling ducks and allowing time for Nige to stroke a pony, to High Whieldon before descending into Crowdecote. Taking the wrong route on th e descent, Austin ingeniously constructed a temporary step with a disc arded white bucket, helping some of us to get over a barbed wire fence. It's not surprising he's our No.1 transportation manager.

The Packhorse at Crowdecote was packed, particularly now we'd crowded into it with our muddy boots. Placky bags were available at the entrance to cover the muddiest of boots, namely Pedro's and Keithee's.

Yet again the Packhorse's ale of the day, Pale Rider, ran out but at least there were alternatives on tap as I recall. Off with the bags we set off again to our next destination for lunch, The Cheshire Cheese at Longnor, where elderly waitresses stood stiff like statues in the dining room.

The steak & ale pie went down well with home made chips, but the ale wasn't the best, so, as some slipped off for cake and tea at a nearby visitors centre the rest moved to the Horseshoe where a better selection of ale was found, including Hartington's IPA. The Packhorse's landlady followed and gave Nige (noel) some stick, which he'd left behind, together with his map.

JayCee banged his head on the door frame as he stepped into the pub, followed by the shelf above the bar. Granpop Bill adjusted the wobbly table to ensure no ale was spilt, noticing it possessed a strange fragrance. Perhaps it was blood from previously cracked heads? The ale did go down pretty well as the Stubmeister may or may not recall. Spikelet found a newspaper article stating yuppie sex can stop colds, diabetes and coronaries. Mmm, I'll have to give it a go!!

Many Thanks to Heavy Steve Machine for organising this one. A tremendous day out despite the spits and spots.

Cheers

Yup

(enjoy yer sqwalks)