A Womans Place Is On Top

Fallcliffe Cottage, Peak District, 18-20th November 2005.

On a bitterly [warm] November eve, a foolhardy bunch of travellers left London town in search of excitement and oxygen in the Peak District. For once, we left on time, and the first wave went to Tesco to shop, and [stop off for a quick] Italian. Meeting later at Rugby truck stop, for sustenance and a break, we took stock of our hopeless situation, realising that we would be late, no matter what we did now. One vehicle left the truck stop correctly, the other facing almost certain death by pulling out in front of an HGV (it wasn't my day...). However, we eventually got to Fallcliffe (via Wingerworth, a small village which may be lovely, but isn't worth visiting when in a hurry), and realised that bitterly [warm] in London translated to 'pure Baltic' conditions in the middle of nowhere.

Following a restless night of raucous laughter and [boiling] noses (and everything else actually, maybe switching the heating on wasn't such a bad idea), we rose at between 6 and 8 a.m., and breakfasted on whatever wasn't [boiled] down (did I mention the [warm]?). The wimpy beginner climbers (Flora and Tom) left the hut first, with Roger the guide, who was going to show us what a rock was and what to do to it (for Tom, climb up, for Flora, stand at the base and whimper). The day was beautiful - blue skies and no clouds, but it was rather [warm], and the walk into the crag at Burbage North displayed some fine examples of [boiled] puddles and [scorching] rocks. At the crag, Flora and Tom learnt how to get really really [warm] whilst tying knots, and then how to climb across flat ground (Flora was surprisingly good at this). Richard and Claire joined F and T in learning to climb across flat ground (and get really [warm]) at this point, and the four of them had a jolly time, only stopping briefly to change into superman costumes and rescue the world from the pilchards. Sorry, I mean, to change into rock shoes, to enable them to lose all feeling in their feet, and to dance across some fallen boulders.

After this excitement (when we discovered that girls balance and men are strong), we went and sat in some [don't be filthy I wont have it. Ed.] at the top of the cliff, to learn how to tie ourselves to the rocks. C and Rich were better at this than F and T, who found a wobbly rock, tied into it, and then were shamefaced (under the [warm water]) to find that anchoring into that would lead to almost certain death if they fell [Falling does not always lead to certain death… Ed.]. As they said (shaking their heads knowingly, trying to get the circulation going) you learn from your mistakes!

Eventually, by the time we had lost ALL feeling in our bodies, we started to climb. C and R made their climb look absurdly simple, then Tom made the climb he and Flora were doing look absurdly easy. Then Flora made a straightforward walk up the rock face look like she was scaling a glass plate without her hands.

By this time it was getting dark, so we learnt how to suffer extreme pain by jamming, and then went back to the hut, for Julie and Zara's excellent hot chocolate (they will be compulsory attendees of all future winter trips for this very reason!)

Dinner was excellent, with Mike and Simon H's meaty balls with spaghetti, and the veggie freaks option was also said to be edible (just kidding, none of the veggies fell off a cliff the following day, so we have to assume that they had the better meal!). Richard managed to nearly knock himself out several times, merely by standing up in the hut, whilst Simon H, Simon B, and Beth drank their own body weight in port. Flora had an interesting fight with SH and SB, which mainly involved kicking any part of them which came near her whilst they ruthlessly and cruelly attempted to tie her defenceless shoe to the table leg. This left a beautiful print effect on the back of SB's white T-shirt, which sadly we do not have a record of. (Which means a repeat performance will be necessary to complete our records).

By this time, things were getting rowdy, so the sensible people (or Jarin, as he is better known) headed off to bed. Following a bit more drinking, SB was holding forth on every topic that arose, so even the less sensible people decided sleep was a good option! SB, SH and Beth held the inaugural night time walk in sub-zero temperatures, which was held to be an outstanding success despite the poor attendance, and then even these eejits went to bed (although by all accounts, only one of them slept).

Sunday morning dawned bright and crisp, although marginally less crisp than Saturday, and this was when all the real excitement of trip happened. The climbers (and Lisa and flora) went to Froggat to try a few exciting routes. Kate led a nasty VDiff (OH MY GOD, I just used climbing terminology without even thinking about it! What is happening to me?!) which Flora somehow managed to get up. Claire and Richard practiced leading with their shiny new rack, Dave and Julie, Simon H and Zara, and Simon B and Tom played around on other routes at Froggat. Tom even uttered the immortal and never to be forgotten line 'chimneys are fun!' However, this was dull in comparison with WHAT HAPPENED NEXT...

… and drove back to London uneventfully. However, the quote that summed up the weekend for me is from a German sounding bloke by the name of Willi Pfisterer:

'To qualify for mountain rescue work, you have to pass our test. The doctor holds a flashlight to your ear. If he can see light coming out the other one, you qualify.' Willi Pfisterer

[Surely A.A Milne and "The wonderful thing about Tiggers, For Tiggers are wonderful things, Their tops are made out of rubber and their bottoms are made out of springs." Ed.]