The bank holiday weekend was obviously designed with caving in mind, allowing 3 days of fucking about in the Dales. With this in mind, I joined Jack, Rachael, Helen, Creg and Nat at the Dump, freshly excited for what caving trips might lie ahead of me. Perhaps a solo trip down Deaths Head, or a trip into Pen y Ghent, or maybe even a fuck about in Ireby Fell. I even brought a Yorkist, Hannah, with me, with the promise of a fine caving weekend.
Hannah and I arrived on Friday keen to join in the party that was sure to have been started by Monsieur Dewison. He wasn’t there, actually, there was a BPC committee meeting discussing the fineries of the forthcoming GDPR. Fascinating. We went to the pub in Horton.
It was later that Jack et al., arrived, having fucked about a bit, and some 0100 before Rachael turned up, having apparently decided the M6 north from Coventry was a nice place to park.
It was Saturday morning that Jack persuaded me to join them on a trip down Ingleton canyon, and that we did, picking up ULSA Nathan on the way, before having an Inglesport breakfast. Kitting up, I looked incredibly suave and not the least bit fat in my shorty wetsuit and pink wellies. This was a fine choice instead of caving because the weather was decidedly fucking gorgeous. The canyon eas enjoyable – I pussied out of some parts having not quite gotten used to being underwater after starting swimming lessons some 4 months ago. Nethertheless, a good day was had, and post-canyon we enjoyed ice cream before fucking off back to the Bradford, where we joined in with the members BBQ.
On Saturday night, I wanted to go caving in PYG, but was defeated by Helens assertion that we should go scrambling in somewhere, and then go swimming in Malham Tarn. The scramble was quite good if short, but enjoyable all the same. Afterward, we proceeded to the tarn to meet Natalya, who had broken her fingers strumming one off, so had to do marking or something instead of scrambling. There was some confusion, and we wandered about Malham tarn before finding her, desolately sunbathing on an abandoned jut of land near the FSC centre. We all slowly took off our clothes and swam for a bit, Nat looked particularly viking when swimming. Whilst I partook, I did not swim as the water made my nipples hard enough to cut glass. The amusing part was Creg crawling out the water like some Monster from the Black Laggoon/The Ring hybrid. Given a lack of car space, I walked back across the tarn on my lonesome, topless, with the sun gently massaging my nipples and associated anatomy. I said hello to some cows.
After this it was time to look at Malham cove which is an extensive, fascinating and glorious piece of karst scenery. It was here we met Jack and Davo. I ran down the steps to meet them, then couldnt find them, so ran up them again, forgetting my eminent amount of fatness and therefore almost vomiting.
We then proceeded to Settle and Jack stole some bread and other culinary accouterments.
Good weekend overall.