WW 31st March 2010

John, Jon, Michael and Mike set out from Combestone Tor
In the wind and the snow - my it was raw
Michael hit a tree and fell to the ground
With great concern all gathered round
"What a nasty gash" they declared with great glee
It's off to A&E for thee
So they kindly pushed him in his car
and with a smile and a wave said "Tara"
To Bench Tor they headed, wind at their backs
Happily sheltering in the lee of their rucsacs
Then down, down, down to the Dart
That crashed and roared giving them quite a start
Then on they stumbled - there must be a way
Without a path how they did stray
Finally they clawed their way up the hill
With snow blowing hard, such a thrill
To the cars and on to the Inn
And they were really surprised when someone was in
There concluded an eventful night
For those that were there, but not those who only might.

WW 24th March 2010

To Brown's House?
Across Broad Down
Through dark and mist and rain
Over tussocks and sticky gloop?
NO THANKS!
Not us!
Irving is happy to save that for a more befitting time.
He has a get-out-of-jail-for-free card up his wet sleeve.
We are the adaptable, pragmatic ones.
So, off to Laughter Tor and BEL 5.
With an apt Ho! Ho! and many a belly chuckle back to the PoW.

WW 17th March 2010

Unerringly out into the gloop
Straight across Ringmoor Down
Until Ditsworthy Warren House looms
Hop across the ford and up the track
Until quite suddenly a tree
Shavercombe for tea
Down to the weir
Returning to Ditsworthy
On to Gutter Tor
And precisely 2km to the cars
To the Royal Oak where
All in green
St Patrick had been celebrating

WW 10th March 2010

Unusual
Lane End, Wheal Jewell to Gibbett Hill
under a bright, diamond clear sky
With ground like iron underboot and
breath thudding out in chunks
The wobble of bright head torches
and Range Firing that really wasn't
Unless, of course, they were all using
silencers.

WW 3rd March 2010

The Raz Express roars into the night

Lights strung out in a chattering chain.

Winding through gorse and swerving round rocks

Sticks tip, tap, tip, tap, tippety tap.


First brief halt at Innominate Tor.

(What’s it called? Who knows!)

Off again – no slacking.


Wheezing and creaking

Leaning into the incline to Cox.

What a view (that was).

Plunging down.

Gathering speed for the long pull up Staple.

Up and up and up and HALT!


Refreshments.


Down again, stretching out along the leat

And catapulted up to Pew.

An involuntary dog leg and squeal to a halt.

Then cars and the Whitty – hooray!