As the summer holidays approached, it was obvious the monsoons were about to kick in. The steady drizzle of scotch mist on the windscreen as we headed down St. John’s in the Vale confirmed that the day’s options were indeed the wet wander or the even wetter scramble up a ghyll. What I couldn’t believe was that for a couple of the day’s gang the concept of the “Ghyll Scramble” was a completely untested idea. We set off in pretty crappy conditions with much chuntering going on and Martin upping the ante with tales of upgrading and “… it’s a 5 now!” “Never fear!”, replied I. I’d been there before, I well recalled its November, pre annual dinner, pushover nature!! Thing was though,...
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