'Twas at the end of last term when the CUHWC went to Derbyshire. We piled into a luxury bus driven by a disbelieving bus driver who thought we were all mad. And so, we arrived in a cold and distinctly misty Peak District. This dismayed the climbers (yes, there were some even madder souls) who realised that they would have to go for a walk instead - how awful for them. Mind you, the crevasse rescue might be of some use in the Peak bog trenches.
The main aim of the day was to find the boggiest bit of the Peak District - it's not as if there are any peaks to climb. Keith, Toby and co. headed up that bit of bog called Bleaklow. I don't think they actually got there, so they must have got stuck. Lizzie and Mike also headed off in that direction and arrived back late after Lizzie decided that keenness knew no bounds, so taking them to the summit (?) of Bleaklow.
Me and my motley crew (Ian, Silke and Mark) went up Derwent Edge because I thought that there might be a wee bit of exposure walking along an edge. There would have been had it not been so misty - as it was, I get more exposed walked up the stairs. We then pootled up Margery Hill where I sat on the Trig point (look - it was fun at the time). The old fogies continued their transition phase to the rambling club by spending most of their walk in the pub watching the cricket. They then brandished their zimmer frames and walked back along a molehill to the bus.
We then had to be very nice to the bus driver and tell him that Lizzie, Mike, Sarah and Matthew wouldn't be long. We also had to tell Keith that they wouldn't be long, but our Pres. ran up the road to see if he could see them (fat lot of good that would do). After stopping at the Chesterfield chippy to restock our lard levels, we returned to Cambridge - tired, muddy but greatly refreshed (sounds like it! - ed.)
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