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Present: Anthony, Duncan, Julia, Neil, Craig, Trevor, Bob

Since there were 7 of us (!), we split into two groups, thinking that this would cunningly avoid queues, especially at the big pitch. So Anthony, Dunks and Bob went off to rig, whilst me, Neil, Craig and Trevor drank tea and festered in Bernies for a while longer. Gave them a ¾ hour start then got bored and drove to Crummack. Got changed, except Trevor, who decided that the 1½ mile walk-in would be shit in a wetsuit. So he stuffed all his gear (except a belay belt, so he used a shoe lace!) in a rucksack, and then laughed at us overheating as we walked up the hill in our many layers of clothing.

Took a rather circular route, but at least we found a stile so didn’t have to jump over the wall like last year. Wandered around on the allotment for a while, then Duncan’s head appeared out of the heather. Expected them to be well into the cave, but there’d been a fuck-up and there was another group in the cave, pirating it we presumed, since we had a permit. Anthony had just rigged the entrance pitch when we arrived, so after they’d descended we sat around on the fell for a while.

Great to be able to zoom through the cave without waiting for every pitch and traverse to be rigged. Down the first pitch, down the stream for a short way, then the floor ran out. Oh well. The ‘local widening’ (the traditional 2nd pitch, I think) had been rigged along the left wall, where there are in fact enough hand and foot holds to traverse without dangling from the rope. Pitch, traverse, to the bad step and into new territory for me. The bad step was different to what I’d been expecting; there are ledges, but they’re suddenly 5 foot below the level you’d been traversing at. Plus the gap between them is rather wide.

We met Bob at the bottom of the 3rd pitch, he’d decided not to continue since he was a bit knackered. Easy traverse, then climb down a few rocks to the ledge before the big pitch. All very impressive, especially as our lights couldn’t reach to the top of the aven above the pitch. Someone said it’s as high as the pitch is deep. We met up with Duncan, the other group were all at the bottom of the big pitch, so we alternated between them ascending and us descending. Found out a bit later that they actually had a permit as well, so maybe a fuck-up on the part of the Estates Office. We felt a bit guilty, having not been over-pleasant, since we were pissed off with them for being there without permission, as we thought. However they were probably thinking the same about us.

We had a long wait at the top of the pitch, and got pretty cold. Neil got very tangled up on the rebelay (40 metres up), didn’t help that there were two ropes there, but he quickly figured out what to do. After the other club had de-rigged and Craig and Neil had descended the pitch, I was thinking of jacking (selflessly of course, it was getting quite late), but communicating down a 45m pitch tends to be a little tricky, so Trevor stayed at the top due to being too cold, whilst I abbed down. It was much colder at the bottom. Anthony and Duncan had been waiting a long time, so we sorted out who was going to de-rig and they ran off.

First de-rigging fuck-up was letting Craig take the tacklesack then de-rigging the traverse with nothing to stuff the rope into. Of course a knot got wedged, so I had to ab down into the rift to free it. Neil and Craig drew the short straw, having to take tacklesacks out on their first ever SRT trip! At the bottom of the second pitch, Craig slyly fastened his tacklesack to Neil’s as Neil began to prusik. He didn’t notice the extra weight, so we giggled quietly, the Craig called up “Is that bag a bit heavy?” Unsurprisingly Neil then swore at Craig alot, especially when he got to the pitch head and found out what a bastard it is to get off… Felt a little guilty for laughing, but it was such an amusing sight!

Traversed some more and finally met up with the floor again. I was a bit knackered at the top of the entrance pitch, so Neil dragged me off it, then we de-rigged the pitch, stuffing the mucky rope into the sack in which Anthony had left his map and compass. Ooops. We had another map, for all the good it did us, and I think we again walked rather further than was necessary to get back to the car.

Anthony and Duncan drove up as we were changing, concerned at our non-arrival in the new Inn. Dunks then drove off home to Chesterfield (well it was 10:30pm) so Trevor ended up with 5 people + all the rope in his car. Not a good idea on the track to Crummack Farm, so after he’d scraped it along the ground for a bit he turfed us out and drove off in search of a flat bit. Found Bob sat in his car suffering from a migraine (he was busy being ill when Dunks and Anthony left him, after driving only a short way), so Anthony had to drive Bob’s car back. Trevor is obviously cursed – the last time he came on a meet both vehicles were driven back by uninsured drivers, with their owners being unable to drive. Back to Durham for 1:30am, after having got up 19 hours earlier, grumble. Still, it was a great trip, most satisfying and not just after we’d got out…

Julia Bradshaw