Most pointless climbing trip ever.

In retrospect, it looks a bit ambitious. A very busy day on Saturday, followed by an extremely early Sunday morning to pick the rellies up from Heathrow, then home, quick rest and up to the Peak for a day and a half’s climbing, despite an iffy weather forecast. Two friends had already backed out. But I was desperate to get some trad climbing done and start the process of getting my head in gear.

Picking Dad and Punchi up was fine, after getting them home I had a sleep and eventually left about 12.30. Traffic was terrible, I was dead tired, and by the time I got to the Peak I was shot. Despite the good weather I decided to go to Outside for tea and cake, promptly reversed my car into a gate and the locking mechanism went straight into my rear light unit. I couldn’t get hold of my friends so went to the crag on my own but fell asleep in the car, and managed to miss the only decent weather I was to see all weekend.

Broken! If only I could blame someone else.

I eventually met up with my mates at the campsite near Hope, had tea and a nice chat before crashing out. Woke to rain. Snoozed. Woke up to rain, again. Clouds brushed the slopes of Win Hill. The forecast was for more of the same, so it was back to Outside for the shopping I’d resisted the day then the long drive back to London.

What an expensive, tiring and totally pointless way to spend my Bank Holiday.