I always seem to leave packing until the very last minute.I started this evening’s panic around half past nine. As I start to write this it’s a quarter past eleven and I should be going to bed but the physical effort of finding all the gear for a wintery jaunt and stuffing it all into the pack now means I am wide-eyed awake.
Writing a blog post should calm things down: After all, it sends the congregation to sleep.
The barometer is plunging like a stone and the weather forecast for the Yorkshire Dales (for that is where I am heading) is, as they say, “interesting.” The plan was for four bloggers to meet up and camp on top of Ingleborough and Pen-y-Ghent. There was to be a hound involved as well, but he’s not so keen on winds gusting to 80mph on the tops so may do the sensible thing and stay at home, guarding the front of the fire.
So, we may well bottle-out of the very tops and camp on the sides of the things.
Like all good adventures, there will be a pub or two involved, but sadly, only at lunchtimes. It’s a long way from the top of the hills down to the pubs at the bottom and then have to stagger back up again to bed only to find that your Wendy-house has been blown away to Newcastle, or heaven forbid, Crook, would be disheartening to say the least.
As usual, my food bag weighs as much as the rest of the stuff put together. There is a lesson to be learned here; never go to Tesco's when you are hungry. But it is what it is.
The picture is of Crummack Dale. We’ll be heading up there on Friday afternoon. There will be more about this adventure when I return next week. So, for the moment, you’ll just have to be patient, and wait.